Droves of locals filled the streets, yelling as we secured the spot where the boy lay. We kept our weapons trained on them, fearing that a retaliatory action was coming, or that they were coming to finish off the job. Within a minute, the back-up crew was there, clearing out the angry crowd and looking over all of us. EOD disassembled the bomb strapped to the young boy and disposed of it before the ambulance came and removed him, leaving a pool of blood to fill the area where his young body once lay.
A piece of me died with that boy. It was kill or be killed, but that didn’t mean my human emotions were lost in the process. This young boy was someone’s son, and now he was gone.
Our investigative team stayed behind to comb the scene, take any loose weapons lying around, and make damn sure that the locals couldn’t take them and use them against any of us. We were escorted back to base and met by First Sergeant Keating who asked a million and one questions, but applauded our acts of bravery, and our ability to bring all of our men back in one piece.
I thanked the guys out there with me, wanting to move on from what had just taken place. It felt like a piece of my soul had been sucked into a black hole and left to rot, a piece of me that I would never get back. I went to the shower tent and removed my uniform, jumping in and scrubbing my body until I could feel the burn from skin irritation.
Looking down at my hands played tricks on my mind. While there was no blood on them, I couldn’t escape the feeling of having “blood on my hands” and proceeded to scrub them, examine them, scrub them and examine them again. I went through this ritual at least four or five times before I lost all feeling in my hands and sat down on the floor and allowed the water to pummel me. I was a fucking child killer, and regardless of the circumstances, the reality of what I had just done began to rip away at me, to cloud my existence and drive me into a place that I knew I would never recover from.
Food was the furthest thing from my mind. I felt physically sick with the visual of two bullet holes piercing that boy’s head, smoke emanating from them as blood oozed onto the ground below. As badly as I hurt, I was pissed off just the same. That fucking kid put himself in our way, and while I would have preferred that he blew himself to hell, he would have taken one of our own with him if we hadn’t put an end to his devious plans. My mind played a game of tug-o-war, grappling with guilt and satisfaction.
I laid down that night with my mind completely fucked, wanting to speak to Cassie but feeling too guilty to do so. I hated myself and Vega for what we had done, and applauded us at the same time. It was a twisted motherfucking place to be in, and I couldn’t find a way out of it.
When I finally reconciled my mind with attempting sleep, I could hear nothing but garish sobs coming from the tent next to me. I stood, irritated, pissed off, and ready to break someone’s face. Avery was lying on his cot, tears streaming down his face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He looked up at me, then to Vega who had come in just as I asked the question. Avery hid his face behind two large hands, hands that looked as if they had taken a serious beating.
“He asked you a fucking question, Avery,” Vega growled, looking just as pissed off as I was.
“Us. What are we doing out here?”
“We’re doing what our country has asked of us. That’s what we’re fucking doing out here,” Vega replied.
“Our country sucks. They sent us here to kill a kid. You two shot a kid. You killed a kid in cold blood.”
My mind exploded with his words, his explanation…his tears. I charged him and tackled him to the ground, punching him in the face before holding him down with my forearm to his throat.
“Who the fucks side are you on, Avery?” I yelled. Vega pulled me off of him, holding me back as Avery worked his way off of the ground. “You can kiss my fucking ass with the sympathy for some fucking child soldier who was ready and willing to blow up one of our own. You siding with the fucking terrorists now? Say the word and I’ll put a motherfucking bullet in your head too. I’m not watching another brother of mine get killed out here, and your stupid ass better wake up and see it. They will fucking kill you in a heartbeat, and they won’t think twice about it.”
Vega continued to hold me as I felt the urge to charge Avery again. He couldn’t…wouldn’t stop the tears, instead intensifying them and allowing them to fall faster from his eyes.
“You better wake the fuck up and see that this place is kill or be killed. You think I fucking liked shooting a kid? You think I take pleasure in that shit?”
“You didn’t seem too shaken—”
“I don’t need to be a crybaby bitch to show that shit affected me. I’m not a heartless asshole, Avery, but I love my boys and I want to see every single one of us go home safe and sound. I’ve had too many of my brothers go home in a fucking body bag, and if you don’t toughen up and lose the sympathy for kids who are willing to take you out, you’ll end up being one of them.”
Tears continued to pour from his eyes. I had seen this before. The kid was wrought with emotion and guilt, and while I shared in the guilt, it wasn’t enough to consume me and leave me worthless. Yes, a child had died, at our hands, but I wouldn’t apologize for saving the life of a dedicated Corpsman with a wife and kids at home. That boy could have bypassed us, but he chose differently, and with that he’d met his maker, the very one he was yelling to just before he was to detonate his bomb and take our brother with him. Thinking about it that way eased my guilt a little, allowing me to relish in the fact that Vega and I had saved a life that, in our eyes, was more valuable than the one we had taken away.
Avery sat down on his cot, still crying his eyes out, but finally doing it in silence. I motioned for Vega to meet me at the edge of the tent lining, never once taking my eyes off of Avery.
“I’m sending White over here. You are both watching over him tonight. Consider it duty, and take shifts if you have to, but remove his weapon and keep eyes on him at all times. I’ll be letting First Sergeant know that I think he needs to be placed on watch.”
“Roger that, Sergeant.”
I grabbed Avery’s weapon, then strolled off towards First Sergeant’s tent. Avery was a cause for concern, and even if I thought his initial reaction to our environment was just a severe case of nerves, I thought there was much more to it now. His emotional state was highly questionable and worrisome. Worrying about the guy covering my ass should have been the last of my concern, but alas, it was on the forefront of my mind. I didn’t want another mission with him, and I wasn’t going to hold back from making that happen.
“First Sergeant, may I have a word with you?” I asked, stone faced and serious.
“What do you need, Sergeant?”
I strolled into his tent, staring into the eyes of a man who looked worn down. “Well, it’s about Lance Corporal. Avery.”
“What about him?”
I swallowed, knowing good and well that this was not what he wanted to hear at this moment, but not giving a shit. My livelihood was on the line where that little shit was concerned.
“First Sergeant, Lance Corporal. Avery is a loose cannon. He is much too emotional and not built for combat. He’s going to get himself killed. Or worse, someone else killed.”
He took a sip of his drink from his coffee mug, then sat it down on the table he was sitting on and eyed me. “I know what happened out there today. The kid was shaken up. It’s his first deployment, cut him some slack.”
“No, it’s more than that, First Sergeant. I have Vega and White watching over him tonight, making sure he doesn’t harm himself.”