The plane was like thunder. The same colour of the clouds, the same noise of the rumble. Gun shots! But not real. Only the ones that will not leave my head. Now they feel sort of comforting. I am used to them now. All day and night that splintering sound is all around me. Every now and then there is a rumble of thunder and a NATO jet roars overhead. All this time I feel somewhat calm about the days ahead. Tomorrow was the day. The day we fight for Misrata. A town 30 kilometres from the capital. I flick off my light.
The next day began normally. Every morning we burn a picture of the man, the enemy... Gaddafi. We were put into groups of about six or seven people. I looked across to the group on my left. My friend Mohamed looked across to me. He turned away again. And so it began. We were given the orders.
“March on Misrata”
We were to stay close to the tanks that were rolling across the bone dry desert land. Suddenly there was a gigantic boom. I looked up as the five storey building began to crumple. More explosions followed as our tanks bombarded the outskirts of the town. They began to move forward towards the wreckage of old buildings. We stuck close behind so as not to be seen. My heart began to pound like someone beating a drum, only the drum was my chest!
Soon enough we were clambering through piles of rubble. Everywhere around bodies lay resting. Dead or dying. I was horrified every time a women or child lay at my feet. We had been told to keep a sharp look out for snipers. I felt as if a thousand eyes were watching me as my group and I tip toed silently over body after body. Then all of a sudden! Movement. For a minute my head is playing tricks with me. But then I realised that it was real. I went from my cautious tip toeing to a slow jog. I made it off the uneven rubble onto a small dusty road. Staying close to the building next to me, I edged along the smooth walls. I turned a corner and caught a quick glimpse of the figure that now raced down another side of the building. He was limping so I knew that I could catch up with him quickly. I turned a corner and there he was just a few metres ahead of me. In an instant I found myself clutching my gun. A second later he was dead. He collapsed in a heap like a piece of ice breaking away from a glacier and into the sea. The guilt flooded through my body. Although i had done this many times before I was still horrified every time a bullet left my gun. I had killed a man! As every minute went by and every rocket was fired, that phrase rang in my head. I had killed a man!
The next day I awoke to news that gunshots had been heard inside the centre of Tripoli. This gave everyone a sense that the rebels were finally breaking down on the Gaddafi supporters. But I wasn’t so sure. What if this was all part of the colonels plan. What if there was still one more petrol station where he could refuel his supporters. This hung in my mind as every second went by. Now Misrata was in rebel hands, our morale was high. We pushed forward. Town after town fell, in the east and the west. Soon enough we were just miles from the capital. Gaddafi however, remained worryingly confident that he could remain in power.
It was an early start the next morning. The sky was a light shade of orange because the sun had not come up over the horizon yet. Then in the background, there was a bang. Only light though. One of the head officers informed us that a group of tanks had gone on ahead earlier on in the day and that the bangs were them firing on the outskirts of the city. We were put into our groups and we began the walk to Tripoli. As we got closer and closer the bangs got louder and louder. Soon the city was in sight. Once we arrived next to the tanks the noise was deafening. Then there came the call. Shoot to kill. Immediately the air was filled with cracks and bangs. Every time there was any movement, it did not last long at all. All around bodies fell to the ground. Shouts and screams could hardly be heard above the noise of heavy gunfire and explosions. The drum kit inside my chest was being hit harder than ever. Every time a figure appeared they spent a maximum two seconds in the open before they collapsed dead in a heap on the floor. I shot a few people myself but despite our best efforts, Gaddafi refused to accept that he was on the back foot. Then suddenly the shot came. I fell to the ground. Blood began dripping from the left of my chest. A group of people crowded around me. Mohamed was with them. The ground around me was red as well. I told Mohamed to make sure my family was kept safe back in Benghazi. I closed my eyes for the last time. The gunshots began to fade away until they were completely gone.
