July 15, 2017
Image extracted from DASHCAM.
Who are you?
While I was operational on that hot day, I was advancing with my team, we were meters away from each other to proceed with the reclamation of the compounds: the compounds are an aggregation of several buildings.
I was holding my ARX 160, I was ready to fire, ready to save my life and that of my teammates. My camouflage was impeccable, in order, I was wearing my helmet, ballistic goggles, tactical vest, and belt, everything was in order, the patches well aligned with the seams of the straps, the amphibians were a little less clean, we can also say it: filled with sand.
Arrived five to ten meters from the building to which I had been assigned for the reclamation, you came out of the door, immediately, with a sudden click, I positioned my rifle towards you; what happened though?
You too are ready to fire, we looked at each other, eye to eye, those seconds seemed interminable.
The breathing was deep and heavy because of the heat and because of the skyrocketing adrenaline, one of the two should have died in that second, but not.
Entering the small building, I saw you curled up in a corner, you looked like a frightened kitten.
"004, FREE!", I said into the radio, pressing the PTT, which is the button for talking to others via the personal radio.
If they had known the reality of the facts they would have surely ruined my career those big men sitting in Rome!
You didn't speak English, I didn't speak your language well, communication became difficult, but only one thing kept us calm: looking into each other's eyes. I left you a supply of water: my bottle filled with the straw of the camelback: at least one and a half liters in my possession were given to that scared creature, energy food, and chocolate as a plus.
We caressed each other's hair and face, I let you live, just like you let me live.
A quick hug and go, towards the next building.
I owe you, unknown friend.
I hope you are well now, my young friend, I promise, I will look for you when hell is out and I can come to you.
YOU ARE READING
My memories between sand and dust
RomanceWhen the smell of gunpowder enters the nostrils, there is nothing but the deafening noise and that particular taste that is a mixture of sand, scorching heat and indeed, gunpowder.
