The Soldier Next Door

When I step out of the ops tent, I knew that there was going to be trouble. What kind, I was not exactly sure of yet. The air is thick and tense. I need not have even step any further, and I hear the crashing of gunfire coming down onto the far side at the main entrance of the camp.

We are under fire.

So as I pass every bewildered Marine, I show for every single one of them to take a stance, and I make my way up to where Lopez and Emma are gearing up.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Came in five minutes ago; they came straight past our defenses and got into camp.”

“How many?”

“From what we were told, a group of about fifty-four men, can be more.”

I only but shake my head at the odd amount of a small number, “I am leaning to that there is more.” But just as I am about to even ask what more, the very moment they come flying over.

“Definitely not one of ours. Lopez, get a Viper in the air to take that fucker out. Emma, you are with me; we need to get to these assholes before they get to what they came here for, which I am guessing is not our lives.”

With orders clear, we head off to the main entrance of the camp where the group of militants is busy pushing their way into. They have caught us off guard, and at night, the boys are all spilling from their tents only but armed with their guns and no further protection. We are easy sitting targets but are not yet near willing to be taken out. Yes, we are by far a greater number than them but, they have one advantage over us; they knew that they were coming. I think it is reckless to say that we are always prepared when we, in fact, might have just let the comfort of victory of numerous battles sit too easy under our belts. So regardless if we were supposed to have seen this coming or not, the fact remains is that we are under attack.

So with nothing, and need I even say not even the weather on our side, Emma and me and several Marines are weaving our way through the tents to the entrance of the camp. There is mud as far as our feet thread, making moving somewhat slower than really desired, but we are pushing and pushing hard and pushing with the clear intention of not slipping on your ass. The last thing you want to become is an own slip-up mess in your camp with your knees fallen deep down into the mud. That one second that it takes you to get your ass off from the ground might be that split second that costs you your life.

So we find ourselves between the cover of two tents, preparing to plan how we shall proceed from here on to the front. The main concern shall be getting to the front without getting seen, and right now, the main objective is still clear, for none of the tents that leads us to the entrance have been set on fire yet. The thing that does concern me is that they are keeping the fight at the entrance and letting the airstrike ravage the camp. Are they, in fact, cowards, or do they have a bigger plan at hand?

It has now been three minutes since we have come under attack. We are standing our ground firmly between the cover of the tents as we are making our way forward to the entrance of the camp. Up above, there is an assault helicopter taking out what it sees fit in its path. Only but a few seconds ago, Lopez lifted up in a Viper and has now taken after the one that is wreaking havoc over our camp. I stare only for but a brief moment up into the skies as I see him gaining his gap and closing fast in taking him down.

But then…WHAM.

In comes a handful of grenades scattering all over the camp. The militants are now pushing through our defenses that held them from entering, and they are now spilling in full force from what seems to appear to be all sides. It is in horror that I watch them enter and overpower the tents of so many Marines that have not yet come outside. God knows why they were taking so fucking long, but now there is a whole new battle on our hands.

They are here for Matilda.

“Not over my fucking dead body. Emma, we need to get back to the ops tent.”

It has been six minutes since the militants have taken over our camp, not fully yet, but are well on their way. Their numbers are, in fact, higher than what I thought as the rest of them were coming in on foot and not per their convoy. We are stuck between two tents trying to make our way back to the ops tent. Easy? Don’t ever think that anything is easy until you have actually done it. So we make our back to the ops tent; with each tent we approach, we enter in one…two…we are clear.

Then the next tent, one…two…we are clear.

We check every single tent on our way to the ops tent with absolutely no fail. All are intact. But then we get up to the mess hall. We scan the entranceway from the cover of the closest tent, and back to back, we start clearing the pathway that leads up to the door. Once we have stepped inside, we, one…two…clear the entire room. For a brief moment, we stare at each other in relief and sigh. The mess hall might be clear, but next is the ops tent. So we push forward still.

It has now been nine minutes since the militants have taken over our camp; I can see as Lopez has just struck the engine of the other helicopter in the far distance as it comes up in a spectacular ball of flames. A small victory jumps over in my heart, and I know at least we have won one battle so far. But the biggest battle is to come. Matilda.

So with absolute haste in our crawl, Emma and I find ourselves in only but seconds later outside the entrance to the ops tent. From underneath all the rumbling of gunfire and the yells of both Marines and other men, we can clearly hear someone going about scratching around in the tent furiously looking for something. That which I do know, the thing, will they find it, well I am not about to stand around and find out.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

Then, with another one…two…we enter with our guns held firmly to our chests and aimed at the very persons that we find scratching around. My first instinct,

اسلحه های خود را رها کنید

But the one firmly keeps his point, while the other two go scratching around. But one thing is missing. And then I see it appear from around the corner of my eye.

“Hey, Lieutenant.”

“Do not even dare call me that, Johnson; my name does not deserve to come from your mouth. So is this how you repay your country.”

“See, Sir, that is the thing, my country did not pay me well enough, so I sought the payment elsewhere and the mere fact that my wife is an Iraqi.”

“Well, fuck, how did we not see that one?”

“That is something you will never figure out; now where is Matilda? We would like to get going, for we seem to have taken up some fire from dear old Lopez there.”

“You have two things coming if you think you and your friends will get out of here and then even if you think that you and Matilda are going anywhere.”

Then I hear one of his men shouting from far from the back of the tent.

ما باید او را پیدا کنیم

My entire body goes numb as I see him with Matilda in his hands. No fuck, there goes my theory in hiding something in plain sight. So what seems like the world is rushing towards an end; I have Emma next to me softly whisper to me.

“Now, take them down, now.”

With no need to encourage me, I lay loose fire on the very man that has his weapon still draw on me.

It has been twelve minutes since the militants have taken over our camp. Everything is seeming to draw to a quiet around here as the militants are being taken down one by one. Do I even dare to say no prisoners are left? But yet the battle is drawing to an end on the outside; the one in the ops tent is set to start.

I have just taken the man down that had his weapon drawn on me, and with Emma still firm by my side, we are set to make good waste of the rest. The only one that I do seem to have to have trouble with taking out is the one that I used to call a friend. I have never come to such a choice in my life, and never did I wish I had to where I need to decide what is more important. Yes, my country is important, but should I take out a fellow countryman that has betrayed me? That is a choice I am not clear about.

It has been fifteen minutes and ticking; Emma has taken the remainder of the men in the tent out. There is only one man left. Johnson… the very man that has a gun pointed at my head now… In one… two… three…