Crackers |
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At some point in time after the Gulf War cease fire, I found myself out on patrol in the Iraqi desert. We had heard that there were a large number of Iraqi soldiers wondering towards our checkpoints and we were sent to round them up. We came across a small band of Iraqi soldiers. They were more than glad to see us. They looked as if they had been walking for days and probably had been. As we approached in our vehicles, they put their hands above their heads and smiles on their faces. Each prisoner was quickly searched and loaded on to one of our waiting trucks. As we were about to leave the area, a white van appeared in the distance. We quickly moved back to the road and prepared to intercept the van. Upon seeing us, the van slowed and eventually stopped. It was an older model, very dirty and the engine sounded like it could quit at any moment. The occupants were ordered to turn off the engine, get out of the van and to put their hands up. With a horrified expression on their face, they did as they were told. I honestly don't remember who I was with that day. I can remember who was in charge. He was a captain who didn't appear to be much older than myself. He seemed like the type of person that liked to be in charge and who also liked people to know he was in charge. The three Iraqis stood side by side in front of their van. It was then that I really noticed them for the first time. Two of them were very old, possibly grandfathers. The other was a boy no older than fifteen. The captain strolled up to one of the elderly Iraqis, placed his hand on his shoulder and forced him to his knees. The other two quickly followed suite. I asked each of them if they spoke English and none of them did. Then the captain with his ridiculous sunglasses and arrogant stride walked over to the van itself. I and several others were left to guard the three men. He asked them what they were carrying and of course he received no reply. I watched as the captain opened the large sliding door on the van. This revealed three large cardboard boxes. He began to throw everything that wasn't attached to the van out onto the desert sand. Finally he turned his attention to one of the cardboard boxes. He picked it up and without a second glance, dumped the contents into the sand. Out of the box spilled dozens of packs of crackers, much like you'd find in any vending machine. Satisfied with his search, the captain exited the van and motioned for the Iraqis to leave. The three men got to their feet, went to the van and began to pick up the items that had been thrown to the ground. The young Iraqi knelt down to pick up the crackers and was stopped by one of his elderly companions. The old one spoke briefly to the young. Then they climbed into the van and drove away leaving a trail of dust and a pile of crackers in the desert sand. I stood there for a while. I stared at the pile of crackers on the ground as I unloaded and cleared my rifle. It is now over ten years later and sometimes I think about that day. I think about the looks of dread on the faces of those three men. What I think about the most was how I helped take something away from someone that had next to nothing; even if it was only a big box of crackers. Many people would disagree with my feelings, especially given the situation we were in and the circumstances of the past few months. These are simply my thoughts and nothing more. |
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