by Michael Ratcliffe
I turned the corner to walk into the ANA operated checkpoint. A smaller compound about 15 meters squared made of dirt. Remember everything is made of dirt around here.
I walked down the short covered hallway, left foot, right foot, left foot. Something doesn’t smell right. I approach the opening of the courtyard where we have held countless Shura style meetings before. The smell of excrement pierces through musty air. The hallway opened up to the courtyard and there they were, seven lifeless bodies on the ground. These brave soldiers were lined up and executed. Each one a hole in their head, blood and brain fragments spewed across the wall where these Afghan Soldiers took their last breath. The leader of the group in a different room of the compound. Perhaps he was tortured before he was executed.
The Battalion Commander and the ANA Commander were over in the far corner discussing something as I turned around and closed my eyes. Why am I here? Of all days, why this one? Please take me anywhere but here! The smell is making my eyes build up with water. But this is not the time to look like you’re crying. I turn around to escape this murderous dungeon and behind me is statue after statue of the Commander’s security team all with the same glazed over face of shock. I need some air. I push past the Soldiers and back down the corridor to the road we came in on. I can only run so far down the road and stay within the secured perimeter of our convoy tactically parked along the road. As I lean up against the tire of my MATV my mind starts to race- how? Why? When? WTF?!
In that moment, on that day, a human life was worth a single bullet.
A single bullet of hate.
A single bullet of evil.
7 times over.
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