War Torn

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THE SUN HUNG DIRECTLY OVERHEAD, BAKING THE DESERT LANDSCAPE around them. Inside the hot, dark Vector, 1 Section, 1 Platoon had sand up their noses, sand inside their mouths. And when they drank from their Camelbaks, they could feel the grit against their teeth.The journey across Helmand Province had been long and, despite taking turns on top, the lads had moaned into the sergeant’s ear every inch of the way. Rifleman Jordan Nelson had been up there on the GPMG throughout. Now Sergeant Dave Henley joined him for the last leg of the journey.Dave could see the town just ahead of them. Beyond it, another stretch of flat desert separated them from their destination. The incongruous straight lines and right angles of Forward Operating Base Senzhiri sliced across the distant foothills. The rest of the platoon was behind them, looking less like a convoy than a huge, rolling dust cloud.1 Platoon was to spend the next six months in FOB Senzhiri. They were the advance party; the rest of R Company would be arriving by air later today. The men sat sweating in the gloom of the Vectors, pinned down by the heat. They fell silent as they approached the town. The men on top watched the ancient mud walls grow higher as they got closer, swelling like bread in an oven.The trees cowered limply in the sunlight. Nothing moved.Where was everyone?Dave could smell danger and feel it in the air.This town wasn’t like the others they’d passed through. It was too empty. Where were the curious kids in dark doorways, tugging against their mothers’ burqas? Where were those mothers, trying to keep their heads covered as they dragged their reluctant offspring indoors?

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