That's not that bad, become worried when you start describing the helicopter rides. "I tried to calm his nerves by showing him several landmarks, he was still jittering with nervousness, knowing the inevitable fate that would befall him. The helicopter rotors chopping at the air muffling the soft whimpers, but the aura of fear could not be disguised. Briskly, I struck him in the face with a club, the communist's face squirted out blood like a hot sauce packet stomped on the pavement. The pain drew his attention before I shoved him out of the helicopter. The body sometimes dies of a heart attack before landing, but a sharp blow to the face will make someone focus on that, and then they can meet their eternal slumber as their body thuds against the concrete. The internal organs partly liquefied and shards of bone that pierce the flesh of the now splattered commie was tragic. Tragic in the sense that many more needed to meet the same fate, for work was long and hard, but necessary."