Two weeks after Desert Storm:

Fasad Ben Hasam looked at the rubble that was once his home town. None of the homes, humble as they were, Allah be praised, remained. In fact, it was difficult to determine exactly where the town once stood. On the north edge of what was once the town he saw row after row of mounds, the mass graves where most of his relatives and friends were buried. He could account for only seven survivors. All of them were far from the town on the day the deadly B-52’s came.

Fasad was not there for the funeral. He was still in the desert. His regiment was attacked by the dreaded M1-A’s, the whispering death and most of his comrades died. Out of ammunition, without food, his canteen dry, he surrendered to the American infidels the following day. He was held for several weeks, then released. He heard the story about the destruction of his home later from a survivor, a cousin who raised sheep near the town. The B-52’s came, two very small silver specks in the sky with long white trails. When they were nearly overhead an Iraqi Army van parked near the center of town started it’s engine and drove quickly out of the town. The bombs whistled as they came down, then the whole town erupted in explosions. The American carpet bomb attack missed the tank staging area by 3 miles. Somehow the whole loads of two of the hated planes fell on the town. One moment the town was bustling with activity the next second it was nothing more than a cloud of dust. Allah must have willed it Fasad thought as he surveyed the area. The residents of the town were the sacrifice to protect the tanks. These had died fighting the Americans as surely as if they had been on the lines manning guns. Maybe his surrender and lack of resolve to make the American’s pay for the violation of their land caused the deaths of his family. They were gone, loneliness was his sentence for cowardice.

He looked at his childhood friend, Amman. He too had lost his family. He saw the empty expression that stared at him. A mirror would have shown the same blank look on his face. As they looked at each other both were thinking the same thing. The American demons must pay. Slowly they returned to the lorry and drove to their base.