The Fear That Haunts Me

CHAPTER 6

Rules Of Engagement

The importance of understanding the Law of War in the current operational environment cannot be overstressed. All we need to do is look at one of the several cases where questionable actions have been publicly showcased to understand its importance. It is imperative that we as leaders not only know what the Law of War is, but also have the ability to conceptualize these principles and train our Marines to the same standards.

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All Wanted Blood

I watched Theo like a hawk. This had become very real. My heart was pounding in my chest.

"Kelly," whispered Viking. "Are we there yet? What's going on?"

I remained calm, taking on my role as Assistant Team Leader.

"Theo sees something," I said. "And no. Who cares anyway? War is God's way of teaching Americans geography." Viking shook his head, baring his teeth with a grin.

Theo looked back at us. Then, with his left hand, he began communicating with signals. We were static and silent, anxiously awaiting his report. I had a tight squeeze on my pistol grip.

He pointed to his eyes with split fingers- He had visual contact.

He formed a zero- Ten unknowns in the distance.

He showed three spread-out fingers- Six more unknowns.

He twirled his pointer finger over his head. Rally to his location.

We quietly surrounded him, careful not to obscure his position. Theo's eyes darted. He could not stop staring at whatever he saw.

"What'd you got, Staff Sergeant?" I asked.

"Between the broken tree and the village," he said. "Taliban, they're stoning a girl. About seventy-five meters out."

I looked through my rifle combat optic and saw her in a rifle pit just above shoulder height. Splintered rocks, small boulders, and ash covered the surrounding ground. Piles of unearthed dirt formed a wide barrier around the pit, leaving her no escape. I feared it would be her grave.

The Taliban wore black or gray Shemaghs tightly wrapped around their heads and faces, only allowing a glimpse of their eyes. All of them were wearing white perahan tunban, flowing gowns to just below the knee, and pants falling to their ankles. One even wore a woodland camouflage jacket. I couldn't tell if they were armed, but I felt it didn't matter. Theo was going to make this right.

"It's T-Man," I said. My voice cracked. "What do you want to do, Theo?" This was my first up close and personal encounter with the Taliban. The killing was now imminent.

The girl's execution escalated into madness. It had become a sadistic and murderous frenzy. Rock after rock, stone after stone, thrown in hatred. It was the purest and oldest form of savagery.

I suppose it was a defense mechanism that kicked in as I thought of Peter Pan and Neverland.

All wanted blood. A more villainous-looking lot never hung in a row on Execution dock.

"Jesus," I whispered. The wind carried her voice. "I can hear her crying."

Theo spat on the ground.

"She's praying Shahada to Allah," he said.

Though it was a different tongue, mumbled and bloodied, hers was an unrestrained cry for help. It was tearing me up inside. So much so that I put my fingers in my ears. I couldn't bear it.