No One Wins

Photo by Matt Palmer on Unsplash

Standing there, along a road somewhere in Iraq, encased in eighty pounds of gear we’re required to wear when outside the wire, I watch the fires rage in the distance. The roiling black clouds of smoke consume the sun, blocking the light. At the base of the angry clouds of acrid smoke, red flames lick upwards, like fingers grasping for an invisible rope. The air shimmers, and in that movement, the illusion of life, even as the fire rages on, consuming anything in its path.

The heat from across the desert bears down upon me. Sweat pours down my face in rivulets, cleaning the soot and dirt from my skin, but leaving the sticky residue of salt behind. If there is a hell, this is it. It exists not in the afterlife, but in real life, right now in front of me.

The oil fields, those underground sources of fossil fuels that energize our planet, the real reason my country has deemed this conflict worthy, are on fire. And I can’t help but smile. The bastards sitting in their comfortable offices thousands of miles away will not get what they want. The fire will make sure of that.

No one wins. But that is true for all conflicts and wars. The anger and frustration well up inside of me, threatening to spill over. Why am I here? Why are any of us here? To prove a point? Throw around the might of the US Army? Those people who got us into this should be here, not me, and not anyone else. I have no point to prove here. No need to throw my might around. Tears cloud the edge of my vision, and though I can blame the wetness on the smoke, I push them back.

At those thoughts, my breath becomes shallow, my chest constricts, as I look around trying to find something that will anchor me to this world, not the hellish landscape I see before me. But there is nothing there to hold me. Taking the acrid air deeper into my lungs only makes me cough. Inhaling through my nose instead, the foul smoke clings to everything it touches.

But I do not succumb to the cripping anxiety and fear. Instead, I stand, back straight, weapon at the ready, eyeing the distant horizon.

This is the end of the world. There are no winners.