Last night around 2300hrs my squad and I went on a last minute mission issued to us right before we called it a day. I didn’t know why, but for some reason a little voice inside my head said to accept the mission. As Staff Sergeant, I am the only one with authority to refuse a mission. The boys, of course, were not happy about leaving the camp so close to dark… nighttime is when shit happens around here.
“Saddle up, boys, we got one more before hitting the ‘racks!” I yelled out as I approached the two Humvees waiting for me outside the command post. Their groans were nothing new… these boys are lazier than a bear in hibernation.
As we left the camp, the mood in the leading humvee I was in changed immediately when put a Metallica cd and turned the volume so loud both humvees could hear it.
About 23 kilometers from camp we hit a roadblock. There was something that seemed like cattle in the middle of the road. I ordered my squad to wait for me as I approached the block on foot to investigate.
Kneeling near the downed cattle was a beautiful young Iraqi girl yelling, “Please don’t shoot, please don’t shoot… I need help!” I hung my rifle from my shoulder and extended my arm to help her up when out of nowhere she pulled me down and delivered a strike to my jaw so strong and firm it knocked me out immediately. The next few minutes after that are just a blur to me. The next clear memory I have is of my corporal and medic kneeling over me with cover fire coming from the humvees.
Still in a daze I looked to my left and saw my team shot down the woman who had knocked me out. I realized then we had been ambushed and we were still engaged in combat. I took another look at the woman and realized she looked familiar.
About a week before we had some time off and some of the boys and I went out to a local nightclub. Nightclubs are still illegal or something around here… they sure are frowned upon. I met the most beautiful girl in the world. She said her name was Amira… it means Princess. We kissed and fell in love. I promised her I’d find her when the war was over and I would take her to America.
Now she lay there next to me covered in blood and bullet holes with a blank look in her beautiful brown eyes. I laid here in shock as bullets flew around my men and me, but I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even move. I felt a warming sensation down my neck then realized the blow wasn’t delivered by the beautiful woman, but by a bullet… most likely silenced and probably shot from across the field somewhere. Whoever shot it was a great shot… AND he wanted me to live.
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