You can hardly believe the last few months have been real. The town where you grew up looks like a war zone. Because it is one. Your own government requested assistance from foreign militaries, and now soldiers speaking a foreign language are patrolling your neighborhood. Some of them seem friendly enough, even if communication is difficult. But some of them seem like they’re looking for a fight, or on a power trip.
The television says that the situation is an emergency, which is why the notion of “innocent until proven guilty” is gone. So is the concept of due process, or any right to privacy. Desperate times call for desperate measures, they say. It’s all for your safety, they say.
Seeing a tank or armored car rolling down your street, bearing the flag of some foreign nation, has become commonplace. How could this have happened? They say they are there to protect you, but they make you just as uneasy as the terrorists they claim to be protecting you from. You try to mind your business and lay low, but their random stops, their roadblocks, the interrogations and searches, they happen without warning. So you just try to get by, day after day, hoping it will end soon.
Then one day you see with your own eyes what you’ve only heard rumors about before. After hearing yelling and screaming you look out your window to see your neighbors standing in the road—the street you grew up on, where you played as a child—and they are surrounded by half a dozen armed soldiers. The soldiers are yelling and pointing rifles in your neighbor’s faces. The father seems to be pleading with them, but you can’t quite make out the words. His wife and their two children are also on their knees, tears in their eyes. You don’t know what is going on, but you’ve known your neighbors for years, and know them to be good people.
You watch in horror as one of the soldiers lifts a boot and slams it into the father’s chest, sending him falling backwards. Two of the soldiers are glancing around, as if to see if anyone is watching. You lower yourself in the window as much as you can while still being able to see. A soldier grabs the arm of the teenage daughter and starts dragging her towards their armored car as she screams. The other soldiers aim rifles at the father, mother and son, yelling for them to go back into their house. From their mannerisms and expressions, you know what the soldiers’ intentions are. Two of the soldiers are laughing as the girl grabs the vehicle door, desperately trying not to be forced inside.
This can’t be happening. You were trying to lay low, to avoid trouble. Isn’t that what everyone said? “Mind your business, do as you’re told, and everything will be okay.” But it’s not okay. This is very not okay. You are more scared than you have ever been in your life. But you suddenly realize that, although staying alive is important, so is being able to live with yourself. You rush to the closet and throw aside the coats and boxes to reveal the rifle you’ve been hiding there, just in case.
Just in case what? Just in case … THIS.
Running back to the window you chamber a round. You know there are 29 more in the magazine. If you aim carefully, that will be enough. You hesitate for just a moment. You see the girl’s grip on the door finally fail, and a soldier throws her inside, yelling obscenities at her and slamming the door shut.
No. You can’t allow this to happen. Not in your country. Not in your home town. Not on your street. Not in front of your house. Not to the people you know, not to your neighbors. You know there is no going back. Once you commit, your whole life changes, forever. On the off chance that you live to see tomorrow, nothing will ever be the same. But for this, it’s worth it.
The soldier who had pushed the girl inside turns towards you, a sickening grin on his face. Two more are laughing, while several others look uneasy and unsure. But they already made their choice. They chose sides. They did nothing to stop this. Their inaction has made them accomplices to evil. They can claim innocence no longer.
A soldier opens the driver’s side door. It’s now or never. Whatever will be will be, but you will not allow this without a fight. Righteous zeal and instinct take over. The crack of your rifle is deafening. Your first shot goes right through the helmet of the driver, killing him instantly. You are very aware that the girl is in the back of the car, so you take each shot with great care, and just hope any ricochets spare her. After the first shot, the other soldiers are startled, and it takes them a moment to regain their composure, giving you enough time to land two good body shots on two others.
The next several minutes are a blur. You are aware of bullets going through the walls around you, but you stand firm. You fire only when you have a clear target. Today, luck is on your side. When all is quiet, your magazine is empty, but you’re too in shock to reload. You wait, and listen. There is no sound coming from outside. Wait … one sound. A soft sound. The sound of crying.
The girl. She’s alive.
Forgetting tactics and caution, you run outside, knowing that other soldiers may show up at any moment. You run to the vehicle and open the door. There is terror in the girl’s eyes, but she appears unharmed. She recognizes you and you coax her out of the vehicle. As you help her out, you turn to see her family, watching from their yard. The girl runs to her mother. You yell for them to leave, immediately, and to never come back. You know you must do the same.
Somehow you survived. Whatever happens now, it was worth it. You did what was right. And this time, the good guys won.
The bad news is, you are now labelled by the United States government as an insurgent, an enemy combatant, and a terrorist. Because your home town is in Iraq, and the foreign soldiers were Americans. From this point on, the U.S. war machine will do whatever it can to hunt you down and kill you. If somehow you are captured alive, you will be tortured and interrogated. You can tell the truth, but it will do you no good. At best, you will be imprisoned indefinitely without charges or trial. At worst, you will be murdered outright. Because you had the gall to try to defend against the most powerful gang of thugs on the planet: the United States military.
If you think things like this aren’t happening—if you think that “the troops” are always the good guys—then you are being willfully dense. A thug and a murderer wearing an American flag is still a thug and a murderer. A decent human being—American or otherwise—doesn’t cheer for thugs and murderers; he doesn’t cheer for the aggressor; he cheers for those defending against the aggressors, even if the defenders have been labelled as “terrorists” and “insurgents” by politicians and flag-waving idiots.
And if you don’t even dare to consider the possibility that sometimes U.S. soldiers do things for which they should be shot, then you are a coward and a fool.
