Together At Dawn

Michael did not have one specific reason to be sad; he could not understand why he felt this way. He felt like he was imprisoned, caught as an innocent white dove captured and trapped into a cage which forced him to become a wild beast he did not want to become. His heart remained a dove but his actions turned into one of a wild untamed predator he could no longer control. The conflict between his heart and his actions caused him to bang his head on the metal bars just to stop the sound emanating from the inside of his head. Michael was beginning to feel like his soul had been trapped in his own body in some remote desert where what killed him most was his loneliness. He hated being there he hated what he was ordered to do but most of all he hated what he had to see.
As Michael began to feel a bit less dizzy his eye caught the cheap digital watch he had bought for himself from the Souq one night. He looked at the time and suddenly sprang out of his seat in search of the keys as he realized he had missed the morning inspection. He pushed the key into the ignition switch and as the car started, he pushed the pedal and the car jumped to a start as he rushed to the base. The old dodge truck sailed across the dusty golden desert of Baghdad.
One day at the institution the middle aged man was enjoying reading the daily issue of the Washington Post. He was pleased with this issue’s crossword, it was difficult, but Michael loved a challenge. As he pondered the next word he heard a voice. This was a voice very different from the rest it carried screechy high pitched tone. Very unfamiliar to him the man looked up and searched for its source discovering that it was a little girl of about four or five visiting her father. The image of the young girl staring at him with a strange evil gaze upon her eyes, she looked at him as though he was the source of evil that took her father away. The forty year old man was oblivious to the fact that the girl was not staring at him but the nurse coming to announce the end of the visiting hour behind him. As tears of true sadness poured down the girl’s face the man felt a sudden nausea rising up his stomach.
On his way back to camp he passed by the demolished houses of Iraqi citizens. As he sped off he saw two innocent children playing in the streets but as soon as they saw him they ran frantically to find rocks to throw at the car. Their tiny little hands gripped those rocks so tightly they swung there arms back and threw it at Michael, even though their attempts to hurt him or to anger him failed, they did it anyway to release their anger and express their deep hatred. In Iraq it wasn’t just the adults who suffered in the war - many of the children also experienced a lot of the hardship. War for these children taught their hearts how to hate. War took away their innocence. War showed them violence, and war murdered their families.
Michael arrived at the base and parked his car far behind the tents. He ran and sneaked through a trap door he had cut for himself to make his little excursions less noticeable. He couldn’t tell anyone about how he felt or what he thought fearing they would make him an outcast, and that was a consequence he was not prepared to risk suffering from. He could not even open up to George, his best friend who happened to be in the army and was transferred to Iraq along with him.
Michael peeked through the hole in his tent and waited until there was no one around; this did not take very long as all the soldiers went to register their attendance, which was a routine procedure. He entered his tent as discretely as he could, trying not to make a sound. He crept in rushed into uniform swallowed as many breath mints as he could find and ran to join the rest of the soldiers.
As Michael caught up with Vince and George who both asked where he was this morning, Michael told them he was held up in the bathroom as he had been craving a longer shower as he hadn’t had one in weeks. “We didn’t see you there!” Said Vince
“Well, I woke up a bit later than everybody else that’s probably why you didn’t see me.” Replied Michael as he cleared his throat. George grabbed Michael’s hand and pulled him aggressively to the side, “Michael, listen to me I know this is the last place you wanted to be but stop drinking your problems away. True men learn to conceal their hard experiences and disturbing scenes, you must learn to conceal and forget Michael,” Said Michael’s best friend while shaking his shoulders. “Michael, stop escaping reality! learn to live with it that’s what true fighters do, they fight for what they believe in” George whispered. Michael felt as if each word George was saying added to the commotion he had been suffering from; for he wanted to fight and he wanted to make his family proud of him, but no matter how much he tried he could not want to hurt others, he could not escape this brutal reality.
Just as Michael felt his head about to explode, he noticed havoc originating at the entrance of the camp as four guards came in with two Locals. Their faces were plain; there lips were dry, their skins flaky their slow struggling walks made their dehydration obvious. These two prisoners were unlike anything Michael had ever seen. They did not fight the guards. They were gaunt and yet so soulful. They were quite young. Their eyes protruded an eerie darkness. They were mysteriously quiet. Michael had never seen terrorists that behaved this way; prisoners were usually fighting the guards holding them. They were usually rowdy, this pair of young men were far from that. Their odd behavior and firm serious demeanor sent shivers down Michael’s neck.
The soldiers of the regiment gathered round the young men who were brought in cuffed. The men stood still and stiff. They looked as though they were corpses who had had the life sucked of them. Some of the soldiers who felt threatened by the intruders presence started verbally abusing them. “You’re nothin’ but Iraqi scum, what you here for?” shouted one. “Yeah, what you here for” repeated another. Soon all the soldiers fell silent as the commander of the base made his way through the wide break in the crowd. Michael’s father had come to monitor the search which was going to be performed by George and the other soldiers. Michael stood quite far away and watched his father scrutinizing the guards who were commencing the routine searches. The crowd around the search formed a circle.
Soldiers stood in a big clump, Michael stood aloof, he was standing by the tent in an attempt to escape the sun’s blistering rays. A drop of sweat started to make its way down his cheek as he lifted his hand to shade his eyes. The desert’s sand was golden as the sun shone its early rays through it. Michael felt a bit better after taking some aspirin from his khaki back pack. He was wondering what was taking so long. Routine searches were much shorter. He gripped his good luck army dog tag. He rubbed it firmly with his fingers as he always did when he felt intimidated or nervous. He felt a big scratch down the middle he knew it had been damaged. The young man of twenty four was not a very superstitious person, but somehow he new something was about to turn terribly wrong.
Suddenly a blast of black soot rose with smoke as a fire ignited and there was on ear splitting bang. It had sprang from the outside of the fence. There was an attack from the outside, where a big military hummer had sent out a mortar towards the soldiers. The rebels found turned out to be the perfect distraction to occupy the soldiers of the base. Everybody ran as far as they could as a huge explosion struck the base by surprise. Tents nearby began to burn and screams were released from the wounded and the dying. Michael ran for his life unaware of what had happened. After the explosion people who could move came back to the site to find their friends and colleagues on the floor; severely burnt, some dead others with amputated limbs.
The scene was horrendous to witness. It was real but Michael could not believe what he saw in front of him. The stale sweet pungent smell of burnt skin was the worst of all. He would remember it for days, it was very distinct. There was blood splattering everywhere, it was splattering its violence over everything. Screams went unheard. Michael had to literally walk over two corpses. Just seeing soulless bodies horrified him. The young man stared fearfully into the absent eyes of one of the soldiers he was acquainted with. His name was Jack. Jack’s face was blackened with all the soot and dust. His mouth was open covered in dust. He lay still, cold, dead. Michael could no longer bear looking at Jack so he turned away.
Michael tried to help out with the many wounded soldiers who lay on the outskirts of the search circle. There was no doubt in Michael’s mind, he knew that a dark cloud had formed around him as soon he felt the deep scratch on the tag of his military necklace and looked down to see the dark shadow of the tent behind him.
After all the havoc of the shocking incident Michael learnt that his father, the Commander and best friend George O’Malley, had been killed. Michael was heart broken. He felt great anger towards those terrorists and could not understand why they did this. To cope with the shock of it all his subconscious did not allow him to realize what was happening. Even though he knew he had lost the two most important people in his life, he did not realize it really meant they would never come back that concept just hadn’t sunk in his mind yet. He just could not believe what was happening. He stood and watched the blood bath and watched the soldiers staring at themselves having lost limbs, Michael shared their disheartenment.
That night Michael sat far away from the base next to his truck not ready yet to enter. He looked around, his eyes slowly wandering as he remembered all the good times he spent with his father and his best friend. He looked at the destruction around him and a small fire began to light in his heart. This fire was the beginning of the idea of his loss finally sinking in, slowly but surely. Tears came down his face as his lungs reached for air, as he began absorbing the incident. He reached for one of the bottles he had lined up as his night’s only company in his car. He raised the bottle to sorrow and drank to all the pain. Grasping the bottle so tight it broke into pieces.
Michael did not know how to live in a world where he would have to respond to his father’s every demand. He did not know how to go on without his friend standing next to him leading him. The depressed young man sat with his face resting between his knees, his hands hugging his legs remembering all the days he spent with his best friend. He remembered how as children they played around the large cherry tree, longed for those ripe sour cherries they would pick. Just remembering their taste made Michael’s mouth water. A cold wave of breeze reminded Michael of the days him and George would lie underneath the massive tree spreading their arms and combing the grass strands comfortably. What Michael missed most of all were the days when he would feel the warm shelter of the compassionate sun surrounding him. The compassion he longed for at a time like this. He remembered how the warm rays would reach his blood, how they would sink underneath his skin. The eerie darkness around him and light gust of wind reminded Michael that he was alone. His loneliness and depression made him feel like he was falling rapidly down a bottomless pit.