The soldier stood stolidly at his post, his weapon armed and at the ready, pointed toward the sandy brown streets that lay in front of him. They had been involved in a long, drawn out conflict with determined insurgents who were engaging in guerrilla warfare. The enemy was brutal. The local population did not welcome foreign soldiers on their soil, even if it was to free them of these armed rebels. The government was tentative, with many in the country not even recognizing it's authority. And so it had become a necessity for the soldier to be here, at least until the situation could be stabilized. But the enemy they were fighting was ruthless. The soldier had already seen his close friends being blown up by land mines, shot, or decapitated. The enemy would stop at nothing to rid their land of what they considered to be a terrible scourge.
The soldier sighed and glanced quickly at his watch. Four more hours. He would be relieved when his replacement arrived. It was a nerve-wracking assignment to be so exposed, but it was required, and these were his orders. He looked to his left. Across the distance he saw the other lone soldier similarly stationed. There were six of them in total, and they would take turns for this shift. Behind them was their military base. Lately, the rebels had become increasingly brazen, even attacking their base directly. They were not as well equipped, nor did they have the best weapons, but they were vicious in their attacks. The soldier remembered the young soldiers who had come with him in his unit, most of them had been killed, their bodies desecrated by the rebels, torn from limb to limb and hung naked at the city gates. It had been a horrific scene. They had recovered some of the corpses, while under heavy fire, to afford them a proper burial. But it had been a harrowing ordeal.
He squinted out into the desert sands, the memory fresh in his mind. Morale had been steadily declining and had taken a plunge after the most recent atrocities committed by the rebels. It seemed that they were closing in, and they wanted to eliminate all presence of any foreign military from their soil. But they still terrorized the local civilian population. And that’s why the soldier was here. To liberate the people from these monsters. But it seemed that they had not been effective. At least, not so far.
He sensed movement. He raised his weapon, his finger on the trigger. He got very quiet, very still. His eyes scanned the horizon. A gentle wind blew gusts of sand up into the air. There was nothing. Very slowly, he lowered his weapon. But he kept his eyes open and staring intently ahead. It was several minutes later when he heard voices. He crouched and raised his weapon, ready to fire.
As the sounds grew closer, he heard giggling and laughing. And then, from around the corner of one of the dilapidated buildings, several children came running out. They must have been nine or ten years of age. They were barefoot, wearing torn, dirty clothing, and their faces were muddy from playing in the dirt. The soldier frowned. Children were not supposed to be anywhere near here. His weapon remained pointed at them.
The children stopped abruptly when they saw him. They stood in the middle of the road, completely exposed. A sombre, serious expression came over their faces. For a few moments in silence, the soldier and the children stared at each other. Then, suddenly, all the children simultaneously broke out into laughter and play, tugging on each other, pushing each other, and squealing with delight as they played. The soldier breathed a sigh of relief. Despite himself, he smiled. They reminded him of his own children back home.
But he still kept his weapon armed and trained on them. He was in hostile enemy territory, and he had to follow his training and orders. And the children were too close for comfort right now. He banished the thought of having to fire upon them from his mind. He refused to think about it.
Playing with each other, the children seemed to forget about him. They had some makeshift toys; a stick, a deflated small football, and some kind of broken yo-yo. But mostly they seemed to be interested in horseplay. They tumbled into each other, tugged on each other, tickled and shoved and pushed each other. And howled in laughter.
The soldier felt a little homesick, realizing the moments of his own childrens’ lives that he was missing. He wanted to lower his weapon, but he had his orders. He took his finger off the trigger.
Eventually, the tallest girl, who also seemed to be the oldest, poked her head up from their play and looked directly at the soldier. She extricated herself from the other kids and started walking towards him. The soldier shook his head. She could not come any closer without him being required to take action. He shook his head urgently, indicating to her not to proceed. She kept walking, oblivious to his gestures. He took a sharp breath, his weapon was ready and aimed at her point blank. He raised his other hand and waved her away. But she didn’t stop. He shouted out a warning, loudly ordering her to move away. But she ignored it.
He took aim. His finger trembled as he found the trigger. But he could not pull it. He grimaced painfully, torn between his orders and the child who stood in front him so innocuously. When she reached him, he was still in position, holding his breath, frozen, expressionless.
Then she pulled out a small flower, a dandelion, and gently slid the stem into the barrel of his weapon. He breathed, relieved, and lowered his shaking hand.
She turned to leave, and the soldier wiped the sweat off his brow.
But then she turned back around, and this time the look on her face was different. She had a hard, set look. Her face showed maturity beyond her years, and her eyes showed determination and conviction. In that moment she seemed more like a young woman than a child. The soldier looked down in horror as she tossed the explosives almost carelessly towards him. He raised his hand to his weapon in a panicked rush, but it was already too late. The flash came first, and then the sound of the blast, as the soldier breathed his last.