Embers
Created | Updated Oct 1, 2003
If I should perish tonight, then God may yet determine that these notes are found.
But I do not expect them to be found by a speaker of my tongue.
Ahmal is in charge here.
He believes that we are surrounded.
I think that he is wrong, but he is filled with a zeal that denies the obvious.
They did not bother to fight us.
In our position, a few hundred yards from the Nasiriyah road, they simply watched us for an hour or two as their convoy thundered north.
There were very, very many of them, in a snake of swirling dust stretching from horizon to horizon.
Now they are all gone.
I do not know if they will return.
Something must happen eventually; of that I am sure.
We cannot wait in this desert indefinitely.
I know that there will come a time when Ahmal must set out to find his enemy.
A proud young soldier, one who has already readied himself for death, cannot tolerate the slight of their indifference forever.
Headstrong as he is, Ahmal speaks some truth.
More truth, at least, than these leaflets that fall from the sky, and that serve as my notepaper.
He says that the invaders will hammer us, and that our dead will be a hundred times the number of theirs.
But he also says that this sacrifice will assure our victory.
If we can return even a fraction of our pain, then these cowards will give up.
They do not share our resolve.
It is not their birthright that is at stake.
God who is Great tells them to desist, and yet He beseeches us to fight.
I do not relish Ahmal's apparent death-wish.
I am fearful of his anger, but I admire him in spite of my fear.
I acknowledge that he has courage beyond his years.
The sky is beginning to darken again.
With nightfall comes the glow along the northern skyline, and the distant thunder.
I can tell that Ahmal is weeping now.
Nevertheless we will spend the night here.
I could plead with him to give up this very evening, but I know that he is too proud to listen to his sister.
Tomorrow will be a better day to call a halt to this adventure.
It will be an auspicious day, too, his eleventh birthday.
In the morning, Ahmal will be ready.
We will have kept our vigil.
I think I shall try and persuade him to leave the toy rifle behind.
Then I will take my little brother by the hand.
For a little while at least, we can go home.
