Two Sides

His boots stomped the desert floor, kicking up light amounts of dust and sand. He was covered head to toe in camouflage a dull beige color with white mixed in. His eyes covered by goggles protecting him from the windy sand that felt like microscopic shards of glass in the bare eyes. Calvin McCormick, an American soldier fighting in the sandy dunes of Afghanistan. He believed in protecting and honoring his country down to his core, his fundamental morals and beliefs bound to the idea of service. It was all he wanted as a child, he carried the same dream throughout his formative years never breaking the belief. Calvin followed every order he was given, had the utmost respect for his superiors and even the guys at the same level as him. They were patrolling a road way checking for roadside bombs. Calvin was well versed in disarming them and safely removing them before the ATV's rolled through. The roads were deserted besides his team, not a single person in sight. They hadn't found a device in 2 miles, still marching on the sand far from their base. He thought about how the walk back would be, it would be dark by then. Not nearly as hot... maybe it would be cold. Then he would be grateful for his heavy clothing. The team had started to tell stories and jokes to pass the time, they had to check 10 miles and were still 6 miles until they could turn around. One man, Barney Fulton began recounting the time he drank so much he climbed on stage at a Guns n' Roses concert and the lead singer Axl Rose had to stop in the middle of Sweet Child O' Mine to kick him off the stage personally. Calvin laughed with the rest of the crew. Similar stories flowed out of other members, and with each punch line the laughter grew louder and louder. Calvin still remained at a light chuckle, he liked their stories but couldn't relate to them personally. His life was stationary, planned around a single subject. He had fun times with good friends but would never do anything to jeopardize his chances of doing what he always wanted. As time went on and miles passed they began getting less and less careful about their surroundings. Calvin saw the first shot by the muzzle flare, Barney was the first to drop, and as fast as everything went Calvin had time to regret never saying anything to him. He readied his weapon, shooting at the incoming insurgents. His crew were dropping like flies, it seemed as if the bullets curved around Calvin just to hit every other soldier. It was dark at this point, the deafening sound of the bullets leaving their chambers and the blinding muzzle flare combined in a nasty mixture with Calvins' tears in his eyes. He let them stream down his face as he continued to shoot, along with the few left in his team. A figure grew closer it was smaller than the rest he could see, still this figure shot but with each shot of his large weapon it threw him back far enough that he had to take steps forward to regain his beginning position. Calvin hesitated to continue his revenge and pain fueled rampage.




It was bright mid-day, and much to be done before dark. Azzat Shaah was a soldier for his people, groomed since he was smaller than he already was. He believed in his people and the message they had to carry. He lived his life by this and knew he'd do anything to preserve what they had, their livelihood was at stake. He marched on with his much older comrades, they each were decorated in mix match colored cloths, tattered and dirty. Some had rather large holes, but this wasn't their armor. Their hearts filled with hope and determination protected them. As miles passed and their feet grew sore from little to no shoes they pushed on. Never wavering or faltering. His gun weighed him down and he went from the front of the group to the middle and soon the back, but still his face never showed pain. He moved on whether being slow or not didn't matter, he was there and would never back down. Azzat missed his family, he missed his mom reading him old fables from memory and his dad coming in after and hugging him good night, he missed how they slept in one room since that was all they had. He never once felt as if it wasn't enough. He missed them but he knew he was making them proud, he was excited to return home and tell them stories of his own. His crew sang songs from their childhoods, Azzat didn't know the words but still enjoyed watching them get along, he'd move his head along with them. It began to get dark when they started hearing the buzz of laughter ahead of them, they went silent. They crouched down waiting to see if they were allies. They readied their weapons, Azzat held his up even though after a few short seconds his arms ached from the weight. He never showed that, his arms didn't even shake. The laughter got louder meaning they were growing closer. They remained crouched and prepared. Figures were seen and members of his group opened fire, Azzat thought of how they could know who it was, but he didn't take the time to decide who they were. His crew opened fire and then so did he. Azzat joined in standing and firing. Each shot threw him back far enough that he had to take multiple steps to regain his beginning position.



Calvin saw a definitive figure shooting his way, men near him were on the ground. He watched as the bullet that left his chamber made one of the figures drop to the cold sand. He wondered who they were. He saw the small figure stop for a beat and without thinking of anything but his training, his comrades, friends, his family, he pulled the trigger. The bullet left pointed to the figure, light bursting from the muzzle. The small figure drops.