essay

Theme: War

“This I Believe,” by Joshua

Link: http://thisibelieve.org/essay/94931/

I believe that sometimes one must take a life in order to save others. In every great religion “thou shall not kill” or some estranged variation is found. What does that mean for me? I am a former corporal in the United States Marine Corps and I proudly served in Iraq. I have taken many lives and I wonder now must I pay for my sins?

I was in Baghdad in late 2004 sitting at a guard post outside of F.O.B. (forward operating base) Falcon. We had a frequent visitor there that we called Tango Tot. Tango stood for terrorist and it was our own version of Vietnams “Charlie”. We called him tot because he was only 8 or 9 years old. He would come and visit us every day and smoke cigarettes with us. You would think 8 is too young to smoke but I recall a conversation I had with him one day when he held up his cigarette and said, “This little thing won’t be what kills me here.” I thought of how profound that was for such a small boy. He used to carry around this deflated soccer ball and he would kick its limp body across the ground and yell out in joy, “Look at me, George Bush, very good American, I play soccer.” We would all laugh and have a good old time. Then one day he approached our gate and his ball was missing. I remember it was an extra sandy day and I could see the clean trails left behind from where tears fell from his eyes.

“Where’s your ball Tot?” I yelled out to him. He just shook his head and began weeping again. Immediately I noticed how bulky he appeared and turned to my Gunnery Sergeant for direction. “Gunny!?” I requested.

“Take him out Class!”

I turned without hesitation to this small boy and raised my M-16A4 service rifle and did what we Marines called a failure drill, two in the chest and one in the head. I walked up in a daze to his now lifeless body disregarding the yells coming from behind me. I picked up his Arab garb and saw the suicide vest strapped to his tiny frame. I replaced his blouse and looked upon his little face and wondered, whom do I answer to for this? How ironic is it that this same boy told me that a cigarette wouldn’t be the thing to kill him, I wonder if somewhere in his mind he knew that in a few days I would be the one to end his short life. People tell me that killing is wrong, but what about the ten plus fathers that were at the gate that day? Do I get credit for saving their lives, or do I get credit for taking the life of a small child that was a victim of circumstance? I suppose I’ll find out when life gives me my own failure drill.