I was only 23 years old when my unit, The Fighting Fifth, got called to invade Iraq. I was a little mixed up, not going to lie. My contract was up in 8 months, but now that we are going to war, that means glory. I have chance to be immortalized with heroics, come home and have patriotic rough sex with as many women as possible, because after all, it’s what the moving picture box said, am I right! Until we actually got there; the horrors of what being human hits you in the gut. Things like meaning and value in existing go off into the ether when you smell burning teeth and the crackle of flesh. Food takes on a “different flavor” when you eat just enough to not die and your own piss is clearer and cleaner than what comes out of the pipes.
I have no room to complain, I did after all, volunteer for this, what right to do have? We were half-way expecting nukes and chemicals, we were expecting Babylon to bleed again under our boot heels and our guns would sing salvation because Jesus makes a bigger bang that what they believed. “WE” were the good guys; killing an evil man and his evil family. Freeing a beaten and pillaged people does not come easy, and seeing the worst in this life and the next sticks with me. I can still hear bodies getting blown up and the hot, burning flames of IED’s going off. I can smell gunpowder and taste blood from time to time.
But the screams, they are a constant reminder that death is not the release we want or what we get. I remember this night very well as there was a stillness, and a numbness all around me. I was getting off of radio watch and about to have smoke and write a letter to a girl back home, but this tension in the air was distracting me. I took out my night vision to scan the area for anything. Nothing. No movement, no animals, no lights. Nothing. I put my pen and paper away and just started staring at nothing, smoking a cigarette and warming up some chow. Until I see a small ball of light coming out from from a crumbled 3-story building. Which was odd to me, because I was still sweating my balls off. In the night, its still really hot and we were in the summer months, so it’s normal to be 90+ degrees at 0200.
But then again, I have only been here a few months, the locals, they might be freezing. So I kept watching the fire and the silhouette the best I could. The shadow from where I was to where I sitting looked female, it was a small frame, petite, with feminine features, dressed in traditional Islamic garments, not a strange thing right? I could not tell of it was young woman or an older child, but I was certain it was female. I was watching in case I see a weapon or something that could be used at us, but I did not realize that I could hear everything.
Firewood popping the distinct noise we are used to hearing, a pot getting filled with water, and knife cutting up something. Mind you I am a good distance away (at least 100 yards of dead space between us), and with engines getting turned on, radio traffic, and small conversations, there should be under no way possible that, I am the only one hearing this. But I was alone in this moment, aware of everything, especially how I was uniquely tuned in I was to this fire, this crumbled building and this shadow of a girl cooking something.
Then a pain and tightness hit me in my chest. Something we have all felt when bad things are about to happen, I remember grunting a very loud grunt, that I would sure be yelled at. I turned on my flashlight to check my hands for blood and they were clean, the tightness turned to a burning, so I checked my surroundings for a bug or snake, or something could have bitten me somewhere, and nothing. I started looking at the fire to see if could catch a glimpse of glass or anything that could reflect light or something that could be a weapon. All I could see the girl’s shadow still cooking. As I was scanning the area, I could smell something unwashed, like a dirty dog, but this was more rotten.
I could hear faintly; growls, of something big, like a hungry dog, but vicious. The smell and the growls got louder and from different locations, giving me a clue that it was more than one. The growls started to get louder and louder until they turned into barks, I counted at least six different barks, all from hunger and fury. Starving dogs don’t have friends, they have a purpose. I tried to get up and let someone know but it was hard to breathe and move, my legs were weak and I could see was that these animals had entered the rubble where this girl was. I saw her stand up and grab a stick but it was like watching a shark eat something in the television. She stood no chance.
It was like the push of a button, these dogs charged at her and the fear in her voice when she yelled, told me she knew she was alone and if she failed, it will be gruesome. I have been mauled by animals before, I used to work at my grandfathers hog farm in Mexico and feeding hungry pigs incorrectly is a lesson not soon forgotten. Any animal, hungry enough, will prove to you why it’s animal and these dogs were no different. She swung at the first dog and cracked it over the head with a very loud thump and yelp of pain from the dog. She started looking around and I swear to you, I could hear her breathing, the trembling of her legs, and the excited twitching of a fresh adrenaline rush. She was swinging out of despair.
I could tell that the fear had won and she tried to run but stopped, clenching her arms close to her chest and shaking, making her only weapon in this fight useless. One of the dogs took a big bite of her leg from behind her and as she swung her stick, she dropped it. Then another dog clamped down on her empty hand. The sound of pure harm pierced my ears as this shriek of terror overcame her. The dogs, firmly holding on to her started pulling her off balance and she was hitting in all directions trying to pry loose her hand and leg, but with the dogs now started to shake their meal back and forth.
Another dog locked its mouth on the girl’s other arm and the pain grew more. Now these were the desperate cries for a savior, but once the animals got her to the ground, everything grew silent. The fire was still burning, but no screaming, no dogs barking, not even the crackle of the fire. But the glow was still there. My burning chest got better and could breathe again. I went to the fire watch and reported what I saw. We made a report and got ready to head out to the area with a 12-man patrol but we were told to wait for more people to show up. If these dogs were still there, we might run into rabid animals and we were not prepared for that.
When we did go and check out the area, we saw dried blood everywhere, this was dry for a long time. Fresh blood leaves a certain smell in the air and this was not it. The pot was rusted and we saw old, sun baked bones. The knife, the wood, her clothes, tattered and worn. There was just no way, that I just saw this. As we reported this over the radio, we were told to stay put and wait for an “asset” to meet us. There were 2 soldiers (green berets) and red-headed man in tactical gear but was clearly a spook (CIA). He wanted to know what I saw.