Seven Second Soldier

Exploring a significant moment during my deployment to Iraq.

Seven Second Soldier

As I turned nineteen, I found the opposite side of the world beneath my boots. They put me in a turret, told me how to think, what to wear, where to go, when to be there, who to be as I arrived; and to never ask why, but I was not yet a soldier. A soldier is not something you always are or can always be. Soldiers exist in moments decisions are made. Soldiers manifest to fill margins of gray, fall prey to fog of war, or clear the way. My platoon leader once told me, “No pressure, kid. If you fuck up, none of us will have to live with your mistake.”

This is a story of seven seconds I was a soldier.

One. Going outside the wire on a convoy security mission. We are moving through a concrete chute of twelve-foot-tall T-wall barriers to exit an entry control point onto Route Irish. I flip my radio headset on and call out, “Vehicle approaching! Twelve o’clock!”

Two. A quarter mile ahead. A vehicle going the wrong way is driving directly toward us. As the lead vehicle gunner, my vantage point is the first line of defense. What did they teach me? He is a solitary adult male. Light colored clothing. A white vehicle, white symbolizes purity. Not slowing down. Not diverting.

Three. I start my escalation of force, a series of measures they taught us to use before deadly; hand signals, shouting, throwing water bottles, whatever necessary. Yelling as if it were the last thing I ever needed to say; until my voice gives way. This could only be one of two things, and I need to determine which before the distance closes.

Four. I snap behind my weapon, place finger to trigger, and take aim. Why isn’t he slowing down? He keeps swerving back and forth! Are these evasive maneuvers to get closer? Or is he scared? His wheel suspension doesn’t look good, but isn’t dragging, they said it could be. Dammit! Make the call! Is it a BOMB or not?

Five. Come on! They trained me for this! Is he trying to kill us all? Or just get home safely? Over a hundred meters nearer now, he won’t risk losing this chance! Time is running out! DECIDE! “Click!” – Safety, to fire! The sound of my selector switch snaps like a shot through our truck. The crew later said they heard it over the engine. All I hear is the order in my ear, “It’s yours.”

Six. Time stands still. Take the shot or not? Either is a CHOICE! And it must be made right NOW! The life of my crew! The vehicles behind ours and the entry control point too! My own! Or this stranger? Who either hopes to end his own life by ending ours; or made a mistake by turning the wrong way! Just CHOOSE! You absolutely cannot be WRONG! And you absolutely must DECIDE! No one else can! No one else can help you pull the trigger! DECIDE! For my crew! For him! For our families! For myself! Come on! CHANGE LIVES!

Seven. “Click!” – Fire, to safety. His vehicle reels to a stop off to the side. Close enough now to see clearly and nearly feel the fear flooding his body, with arms raised high, hands shaking, his voice breaking; a desperate plea for life requires no translating. We spoke different words. We left different ways. We never knew each other’s name. But that day we all went home the same.

I am always asked if I ever had to take a life. No, but I had to make a choice. Did I read the situation right to spare an innocent life? Or was a coward so scared to take one he froze? To those who ask; what would you have chosen with more bullets than moments? I replay those seven seconds over again in my mind and wonder how a soldier is ever able to decide who will live, who will die, or if that choice was a lie.