Sand, dust, and a whole lot of nothing, that’s all there is out here. We were sweeping the area for weapon caches, but had found nothing so far – not even people. A sandstorm hit the night before, and I could only see perhaps twenty meters ahead. Suddenly, the vehicle began rocking up and down, as if traversing over speed bumps. I open my door and find what looks to be old, dried up farmland, seemingly abandoned in the harsh climate of the Iraqi desert. We spotted a building – probably just another empty shack in the desert. But as we drew near I spot some sparse crops, then a nearby well, and then… a donkey? We passed through into the desert without a thought, until an order came in to turn back toward the farm.
Upon our return, there were people outside, mostly children. After establishing a perimeter, we greeted the head of the family, a man who looked to be in his early 50’s. The women and children offered us chai, which we eagerly accepted. So much sugar was put into each small glass that it could brighten up even the worst of days. The man invited us into his house, and over the next hour our platoon commander engaged in a dialogue with him via our translator, Chris.
When the meeting was over, our platoon commander ordered us to unload the majority of our food and water rations inside the household. Our corpsman tended to an elderly woman who was bed ridden and ill. He gave her what medicine he had to relieve her pain. We assisted in any other small ways we could, and then, with a bit of reluctance, we faded back into the sandstorm, never to be seen by them again.
As for the weapon caches, we never found them.
Why do I do what I do? Because truly caring about others can make the world a great place.
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