08-09-2006, 06:48 PM
PUAR
A dark shadow cast itself over our squad. Not a real shadow, but a psychological shadow?the wilderness around me, everywhere around me, was barren. There was nothing but the squadron to keep me company. Experience didn?t matter around these parts?as soon as you were sent out of boot camp; you were tossed straight into death row ? my nickname for the front lines. The mood in my squad is solemn, as we sit in the back of the jeep transporting us. We?re in the front of a long line of similar vehicles
A bead of sweat drops down my face, and I pull off my helmet to give my moist forehead a good wipe with my sleeve. Out in the hot desert of Iraq, stuck in multiple layers of heavy military clothing, one could expect to be feeling the results of heat within minutes of their arrival. Even though it would be torture to have long hair in such a climate, I still hate those bastards for shaving my beautiful brown hair.
Frank hollers out to me. He?s shouting something over the loud roar of the engines, of the many jeeps in the area. Somethin? about his wife, but I don?t care enough to listen in. I see a tear in his eye, and I know he regrets being here?Frank?s an older man, and was called back to military service involuntarily. I can tell he fears leaving behind a family. I, on the other hand, didn?t have the same kind of fears.
I fear for my life like any other man does?I am human, and cannot escape emotions. But my family is cold, and I was raised unwanted. One of the reasons I signed up for the military ? to put my life on the line, to save that of someone who mattered more. Someone with a family.
?LOOK OUT!?
I heard that shout. And the gunshots following, as the sound of metal being dented by the bullets being fired at us rings out. I snatch up my AK-47 ? standard machine gun, and I leap off the right side of the vehicle, to run beside it. The left side was the one being fired at, so I feel safe. My first battle?I?m more than ready.
I hear a cry as another of the older members of my squad tries to jump off the same side I had, and is shot. His blood spurts out of his chest, as his limp and cold form topples off the jeep?s side. My comrade ? killed in cold blood. Whipping around the back of the vehicle, I spot one of the bastards crouching on the ground, reloading his gun. The roar of my gun sounds, as I run behind the vehicle, but keep my aim on the one firing at us. I see his eyes widen, and then the enemy drops to his back, blood splattering from his forehead. I got ?im.
But as I jog to keep up with the jeep, I see the body once more on the ground. Of the man. The face was familiar?it was Frank. Unhooking the dog tag from his neck, I hastily sprinted after my squad?s jeep, where the rest of my squad was running beside. It may be against the law to steal Frank?s tags, but his family had a right to know. If I ever made it out of this Hell, I would be sure to mail the tag to them.
One of the squad members notices me as I jog up beside the armored vehicle we were riding in just moments earlier. As he walks, his hand on the vehicle for balance, he shoots me a questioning glance. A look that said, ?Where have you been??. But I ignore him, and continue with my walking. The trucks behind us would pick up stragglers, and take out the remainder of the enemy. We had a base to storm, and needed to keep pace the best we could.
But was I any better than those causing chaos here, for the innocents of the country? I had killed a man ? just like that man had killed my friend, I may have killed the friend of another soldier. A man with a family?and I wasn?t even fighting for what I believed in. Doubts swept my mind, but I pushed them away. My first battle ? more of an ambush, and I had already killed a man. I hadn?t known Frank well, but his family would thank me for his tag. At least I had done one thing right.