Damian

Five years ago

 

“It's hotter than fresh pig shit,” Crank said.

 

I grinned. “Smells about the same out here too.”

 

Our squad was heading for a small village where ANA was doing a search of the local village and we were tasked with providing overwatch. I figured it was nothing more than a wild goose chase—these things usually were. But we'd been ordered to check it out. The village itself was on one of the countless unmarked caravan paths that criss-crossed these mountains. We had to dismount from the Humvees and hump our way up the final couple hundred feet of mountain path by foot with a section of ANA guys high out of their minds on opium and weed. Just another day in Afghanistan.

 

“Man, this sucks,” Crank complained. “Why are we even out here?”

 

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Crank. I just work here.”

 

“Doesn't make it suck any less, Lance Corporal.”

 

“Roger that.” I laughed.

 

Both the air and the land around us had its own exotic yet familiar sort of beauty. These mountains could’ve been Colorado Springs as far as I was concerned were it not for the endless field of scarlet red poppies in the distance. If it weren’t for the Taliban trying to shoot us any time we went on patrol, you could totally carve out a sick path on a snowboard.

 

“Look alive, devil dogs,” Sergeant Fox ordered. “Our AO is up ahead. Complacency kills.”

 

Our squad marched into the village behind the ANA with our terp in tow. Nobody was really expecting much of anything. We certainly didn't expect to see any action. Just a few quick questions and we’ll be on our way.

 

The villagers looked at us with suspicious eyes as we marched in. The regular people had suffered greatly during this war at the hands of both the Taliban and the U.S. military. I'd seen more death and destruction than I had ever wanted to see—and things only seemed to be getting worse.

 

We broke into groups of two and headed out behind the ANA guys as they went door to door, asking for the elders of the village. . We'd done it a thousand times,. It was about as exciting as watching flies fuck.

 

Usually, children would watch us from the windows and doorways of their homes, their faces unreadable. My favorite part about this whole country were the kids. They were the only ones who ever really smiled at us. I felt bad for them more than I did for the adults, but there was nothing more I could do about it.

 

“Something seem off to you?” Crank asked idly.

 

I looked around and didn't see anything out of place. “No, not really. Why? What's up?”

 

He shrugged. “No kids.”

 

“Maybe they’re out with the goats?” I laughed and nudged his shoulder.

 

Crank shook his head. “I don’t like it, there’s always—”

 

Crank never finished the sentence when an explosion rocked the ground beneath our feet. I spun around in time to see a massive fireball billowing into the sky followed by a cloud of thick, black smoke.

 

Chaos erupted immediately after the echo of the blast faded away. The air was suddenly filled with screams, shouts—and gunfire. Clouds of smoke rolled through the center of the village, and my Marines were trying to determine the direction of fire. Up ahead, I caught a glimpse of something moving in the ridges. Then the unmistakable flash of muzzle fire from a Dushka.

 

“Contact front!” I shouted. “MG on that ridge! Get some cover!”

 

I yelled at our terp—who was looking like he was on the verge of running away himself—to tell the ANA to get to higher elevation and provide covering fire. He complied, but it took a few moment of hesitation.. My fellow Marines fired back towards the source of the fire, pouring lead into the distant mountains. But we were still too exposed.

 

“Jenkins, Hawke, take up position in that forward firing position on the second floor!” Sarge yelled at us. “Barton! McKenzie! Cover them!”

 

“Aye aye, sir!”

 

Jenkins went ahead of me, bounding for the stairs as Barton and McKenzie’s machine guns opened up. Bullets snapped over our heads as Jenkins rounded the top of the staircase. That was when another explosion rocked out from within and hurled his body across the air in a burst of dust, blood, and smoke.

 

“Jenkins is down!” I shouted as I searched for another firing position. That was when I heard a familiar whistling sound.

 

Mortars. The fucking Taliban were shelling us. This was a goddamn ambush!

 

Explosions filled the air, knocking the wind out of us with each boom. I looked back at Sergeant Fox for my orders but he wasn’t there anymore. Just a pair of boots and the twisted broken barrel of his M4.

 

“Lance Coporal!” McKenzie shouted at me. “What the fuck do we do, sir!”

 

We had no entrenched positions, and we sure as shit didn’t have any fire support. This was an ambush and we walked right into it. To stay here was to die. There was only one thing to do.

 

“Fall back, Marines!” I shouted. “Rally on the Humvees!”

 

By the time we got back to the Humvees, it was clear that we’d taken a mauling. The ANA guys were dead, and so were Sarge and Jenkins. “Get the CO on the horn.” I said. We had to report the losses and call for fire support to raze the village, even if the bad guys already left.

 

I turned to the terp and asked him if he knew about the ambush. He didn’t answer. I asked him again—more forcefully this time and telling him we’ll be turning him over to an MP if he doesn’t comply.

 

But once again, he said nothing.

 

“Big fuckin' surprise,” Crank muttered.

 

”This fucker knew, sir!” McKenzie raised his gun at the terp. “This piece of shit Hajji knew we were walking into an ambush and he didn’t fucking tell us.”

 

“Stand down, McKenzie,” I said. “That’s not on us to decide.”

 

“The hell it ain’t,” McKenzie stepped forward, a malevolent look on his face.

 

“I said stand down, Private!” I ordered.

 

“With all due respect, sir. Fuck you!” he snapped.

 

“Watch your mouth, devil!” Crank said, stepping up beside me. “Consider this your one and only warning. Now square your fucking shit and shut your mouth.”

 

McKenzie got right up in my face, our noses inches apart. “Are you seriously going to let this fucking Hajji fuck get away with killing two of ours.” There was a brief second before he spat out. “Lance Corporal, sir.”

 

I didn’t get a chance to answer the question when the sound of gunfire erupted behind me. I turned around to find Barton—that fucking boot—tears streaming down his face, pumping round after round into the terp all while shouting “Get some! You fucking Hajji motherfucking fuck! Get some!”

 

Blood sprayed into the air with each thud of the bullet. A scarlet pool was spreading out beneath the body, soaking the earth.

 

When Barton ran out of ammo, he kept pulling the trigger anyway, screaming in frustration until Crank finally pulled him away. The rest of us—even McKenzie—stood staring in silent horror at the sight of the crumpled bloody body. Dead. Gone. All in the blink of an eye.