We had been patrolling our little piece of desert for a while and had set up a camp at a bombed out palace that looked out at Bahr al-Mihl. The place must have been disgustingly opulent before our pilots dropped some presents around it. Now half of the main building was gone, a pile of rubble. What was still standing was somewhat sturdy and we set up camp in it's shadow, fished in the salt lake and kept an eye on the vast, flat horizon. In the basement, we found bottles of wine but Lt Moon, who was still pretty green, wouldn't let us open them, We also found cans of food with which we upgraded our standard MRE so much that we ate off chipped fine china. I stashed three bottles of wine in a dead plant on the east side of the patio.
One hot day, we were standing down from patrol and Garcia, Pez and Medic took a walk to the lake. Lt. Moon was holed up under a date tree with some trashy paperback and the others were sleeping or watching a DVD or writing letters. I was antsy, jittery, and wandered around the remains of the palace, partially fascinated and partially disgusted by the excess. I wondered about the people that had lived here, surrounded by all their oil wealth and wondered if they even knew about the poverty we had seen on our patrols. I wanted to empty a magazine into all the shit I saw but Lt. would have busted my ass so I just threw stuff around until I got bored. Downstairs was dark and cool and I set up a chair in the shadows that gave me a view of the marble patio, the trees that ran down to the salt lake. I lit a cigarette and smoked it slowly in the shadowy quiet.
The quiet was broken by shouts and I could see Pez coming up from the lake with an Iraqi boy of 10 or 12 before him, the boy's arms were raised over his head. Lt Moon came running from his place among the trees with his sidearm drawn and as they turned I could see that Pez had his M16 leveled at the kid's neck. The kid looked scared and barely moved as Lt tried to talk Pez into lowering his weapon. /eventually, Pez took a step back and brought his weapon up, holding it in the crook of his arm. I tried to make out what they were saying but all I could get was snippets of words, fragments of understanding. The kid finally brought his arms down and shoved them deep into his pants pocket and tried to adopt a stance of defiance. I kicked a pebble out that bounced across the stones and the kid jumped, looking in my direction. I took a deep pull on the cigarette, the tip glowing bloodshot in the dark. For a moment I caught a look of terror in the kid's eyes and wondered if he'd been in this situation before. Maybe caught stealing dates and figs and having to stand there in the glare while the Sheik stood in the shade and considered his fate.
Then Medic appeared, holding a bloody rag against Garcia's shoulder. I shouldered my weapon, stepping into the sunlight as Lt and Pez turned and the kid made his break. The light was blinding and I could barely see him run into the thin stand of trees. There was shouting and as my eyes adjusted I saw Pez in pursuit as Lt checked on Garcia. I jumped off the edge of the patio to chase Pez who was shouting for the kid to stop. The kid ignored him, of course, weaved through the grove with a well-practiced precision. For my part, I just tried to keep up, feeling exhilarated with the chase and having something to do. Ahead of me, I saw Pez hold up and squeeze off a shot that peppered splinters in the air. The kid ducked a little but didn't slow down. Pez waved me off to the right, planning to drive him towards me. A quick burst from him, splintered another tree and, sure enough, the kid angled towards my direction. Pez shouted a whoop and fired again.
I shouted something about trying to capture him but Pez was having too much fun to hear me. I could see the water of the salt lake through the trees and wondered what would happen when the kid broke through with nowhere to hide. I wondered about Garcia and his wound and wondered what had happened down at the lake. There's a craziness that sets in when you've been still for too long. On a base, it takes a while for it to kick in but in the field you get so used to being on the edge. Pez was desperate to stay on the edge.
The kid looked at me, big dark eyes full of fear and prayer, and I hesitated. The kid stepped towards me, ready to surrender but he never got the chance. Pez's shot hit him in the side of the head and sent a pink mist into the air that hung for a moment, even after the kid had dropped to the ground.
-Soldier Z
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