Play dice with life - and feel the ultimate pleasure

In the past, I have written at my post career revulsion at soldiers being hired guns. How did that idea ever come to me, a professional soldier. After so many decades, it became clear to me that PERHAPS it came to me as a result of my reading of the following pages for THE MAGUS by John Fowles -


He stood up.
"I have a test for you."
"A test?"
He went into his bedroom, returned almost at once with the oil lamp that had been on the table when we had dinner. In the white pool of light he put what he had brought. I saw a die, a shaker, a saucer, and a pillbox. I looked up at him on the other side of the table, at his severe eyes on mine.
"I am going to explain to you why we went to war. Why mankind always goes to war. It is not social or political. It is not countries that go to war, but men. It is like salt. Once one has been to war, one has salt for the rest of one's life. Do you understand?"
"Of course."
"So in my perfect republic it would be simple. There would be a test for all young people at the age of twenty-one. They would go to a hospital where they would throw a die. One of the six numbers would mean death. If they threw that they would be painlessly killed. No mess. No bestial cruelty. No destruction of innocent onlookers. But one clinical throw of the die."
"Certainly an improvement on war."
"You think so?"
"Obviously."
"You are sure?"
"Of course."
"You said you never saw action in the last war?"
"No."
He took the pillbox, and shook out, of all things, six large molars; yellowish, two or three with old fillings.
"These were issued to certain German troops during the last war, for use if they were interrogated." He placed one of the teeth on the saucer, then with a small downward jab of the shaker crushed it; it was brittle, like a liqueur chocolate. But the odor of the colorless liquid was of bitter almonds, acrid and terrifying. He hastily removed the saucer at arm's length to the far corner of the terrace; then returned.
"Suicide pills?"
"Precisely. Hydrocyanic acid." He picked up the die, and showed me six sides.
I smiled. "You want me to throw?"
"I offer you an entire war in one second."
"Supposing I don't want it?"
"Think. In a minute from now you could be saying, I risked death. I threw for life, and I won life. It is a very wonderful feeling. To have survived."
"Wouldn't a corpse be rather embarrassing for you?" I was still smiling, but it was wearing thin.
"Not at all. I could easily prove it was suicide." He stared at me, and his eyes went through me like a trident through a fish. With ninety-nine persons out of a hundred, I would have known it was a bluff; but he was different, and a nervousness had hold of me before I could resist it.
"Russian roulette."
"But less fallible. These pills work within a few seconds."
"I don't want to play."
"Then you are a coward, my friend." He leant back and watched me.
"I thought you believed brave men were fools."
"Because they persist in rolling the die again and again. But a young man who will not risk his life even once is both a fool and a coward."
And he had me. It was absurd, but I could not let my bluff be called.
I reached for the shaker.
"Wait." He leant forward, and put his hand on my wrist; then placed a tooth by my side. "I am not playing at make-believe. You must swear to me that if the number is six you will take the pill." His face was totally serious. I felt myself wanting to swallow.
"I swear."
"By all that is most sacred to you."
I hesitated, shrugged, and said, "By all that is most sacred to me."
He held out the die and I put it in the shaker. I shook it loosely and quickly and threw the die. It ran over the cloth, hit the brass base of the lamp, rebounded, wavered, fell.
It was a six.
Conchis was absolutely motionless, watching me. I knew at once that I was never, never going to pick up the pill. I could not look at him. Perhaps fifteen seconds passed. Then I smiled, looked at him and shook my head.
He reached out again, his eyes still on me, took the tooth beside me, put it in his mouth and bit it and swallowed the liquid. I went red. Still watching me, he reached out, and put the die in the shaker, and threw it. It was a six. Then again. And again it was a six. He spat out the empty shell of the tooth.
"What you have just decided is precisely what I decided that morning forty years ago at Neuve Chapelle. You have behaved exactly as any intelligent human being should behave. I congratulate you."
"But what you said? The perfect republic?"
"All perfect republics are perfect nonsense. The craving to risk death is our last great perversion. We come from night, we go into night. Why live in night?"
"But the die was loaded."
"Patriotism, propaganda, professional honor, esprit de corps — what are all those things? Cogged dice."

I don't know why it took so many years for the effect to take place. Somehow, the stupidity of any sense of nobility in dying for your country got to me - after almost three decades though.