Blood and Gold

Former Navy SEAL sergeant David Harris sat in a luxury leather recliner at Dr. Wright's office, a well-known psychologist respected for his compassionate approach and extensive research on PTSD. The room was spacious and tastefully decorated in calming shades like muted blues and soft greens, accented with minimalist artwork featuring abstract designs and soothing nature scenes, creating a peaceful and inviting atmosphere. Soft, indirect lighting came from hidden fixtures along the edges of the walls, casting a gentle, diffuse glow that enhanced the tranquil setting without harsh shadows. Quiet, calming music played softly through the sound system, blending gentle instrumental melodies with nature sounds such as flowing water and birdsongs, providing a subtle background ambiance. While maintaining steady eye contact with Dr. Wright, David's gaze seemed distant and unfocused, his facial expression neutral and contemplative, as if lost in a deep reverie, mentally detached and overwhelmed by thoughts or memories.

"How have you been since our last session, David?" Dr. Wright asked, leaning forward with genuine concern.

"The same," David replied resignedly.

What's your main concern, David?

After a long pause, he replied, "I can't sleep."

"Is there anything preventing you from falling asleep?"

"The ghosts of the past are haunting me," David replied wearily.

"The ghosts of the past! What are they?" Dr. Wright asked while taking notes.

"The nightmares. I have recurring nightmares."

"What do you see in your nightmares?" Dr. Wright inquired, leaning in attentively.

"In my nightmares, I am back in the navy, reliving those moments," David replied despairingly.

"You told me you served in the war zone, am I right?"

"Yes, I served three tours in Iraq, each lasting several months, experiencing things I wish I could forget."

"I've never been in the military or a war zone, but I can imagine the level of stress you experienced there."

David nodded in agreement.

"Tell me more about your experiences there."

"Though it was tough, my first two tours went alright. My platoon was part of the security team tasked with maintaining the Green Zone's safety to prevent threats and keep order."

"Green Zone? Is it a military code?" Dr. Wright asked naively.

"Green Zone was a ten-square-kilometer area in the center of Baghdad, hosting government offices, ministries, diplomatic missions, and Saddam's palaces. It also housed the coalition forces' command center," David explained.

"I see. Since I am a pacifist and opposed to wars, I wasn't keeping up with the news," Dr. Wright said.

"I don't blame you, Doc. War is an ugly game that destroys the lives of millions yet enriches a few," David said with disgust.

After taking notes, Dr. Wright asked, "Have you been forced to do dirty jobs there?"

"Yes, I was. We were tricked into committing atrocities in the name of freeing the poor people of Iraq."

"Can you explain more, David?"

"Yes, but where should I start?"

"It's your choice, David. You decide what you'd like to discuss."

"Okay, Doc," David said, lost in thought. His eyes were glued to the landscape painting on the wall in front of him. "Where is the place in this painting from?" he asked.

"It's painted by an African artist, depicting the Savannah," Dr. Wright explained.

"It's beautiful. I've never been to Africa," David said.

"I've been there once. Africa is a beautiful place."

"I can imagine," David replied.

"It is okay if you are not ready to talk about your experiences in Iraq," Dr. Wright said.

"No, it's okay, Doc. I don't know where to start," David replied.

"Sure."

"It was during my third tour in Iraq that we received a new order. We were tasked with securing the transport of some goods."

"Goods? What kind of goods are you referring to?"

"We weren't high enough in the chain of command to know what was inside those trucks. In the military, you don't question orders; you obey them. We were ordered to secure the transport of those trucks, whatever they were carrying."

"I see!"

"We were instructed to use whatever force was needed to keep the truck convoy safe."

"The convoy of trucks! How many trucks were in that convoy?"

"Twelve trucks," David replied.

"It was quite a long convoy. What do you think they were carrying that required such a large security detail?" Dr. Wright asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

"At the time, we didn't know," David responded. "But later, we found out what those trucks were transporting."

"What were they carrying?" the psychologist pressed, intrigued.

"Gold."

"Gold?"

"Yes, gold bars," David confirmed.

"Where did the gold bars come from in a war zone?" Dr. Wright asked.

"They were Iraq's gold," David explained. "Specifically, gold bars were stolen from Iraq. The gold was stored at Iraq's National Bank, which was part of Saddam Hussein's government treasury."

"I see!" Dr. Wright said, clearly intrigued. "So, those trucks were transporting the stolen wealth of a nation."

"Yes, they were, Doc."

After taking note, he said, "Continue, David."

"We were on the highway when a bus, closely followed by a small sedan, approached us. From our position, we couldn't see the sedan because it was hidden behind the larger bus. We signaled the bus to slow down and stop for inspection. The bus driver obeyed our signal, slowed down, and moved to the side of the road to stop. At that moment, the sedan—a blue, battered Toyota—probably didn't see us and our signal to stop, took advantage of the opportunity, accelerated, and overtook the bus, approaching us at high speed. The first thing that came to my mind was that some militants were trying to attack the convoy, so I ordered my men to open fire on the threat," David said and went silent. His gaze returned to the painting of Savana, lost in thought.

"But the people in the Toyota weren't militants, were they?"

"No, they weren't. They were a family—father, mother, and their three children, one of whom was just a baby," David replied sadly. His eyes filled with tears.

"I'm really sorry to hear that."

David just nodded.

"It was an unfortunate incident," Dr. Wright stated.

David nodded in agreement but said nothing.

"Collateral damage," Dr. Wright mentioned

"Collateral damage, my ass," David snapped sharply. "If I had waited a little longer to see the car's passengers, I could have avoided this unnecessary bloodshed."

"What if they were militants, or the car was packed with explosives, so at that time it was you who ended up dead," Dr. Wright reasoned.

"But it wasn't, and I can't forgive myself. That family, those kids perished because of my rash action," David said, his eyes filled with tears again.

"When two armies are at war, enemy soldiers wear uniforms and are easy to recognize. But in urban conflicts, where civilians face occupying forces, the difference between civilians and militants becomes blurry. Anyone can be a harmless civilian or a deadly militant. In such uncertain situations, soldiers face a dilemma: to kill or get killed. And naturally, no one wants to be dead. Although the consequence of your decision was terrible, your action was rational; you just wanted to keep yourself and your men safe," Dr. Wright reasoned.

"I understand what you're saying, Doc, but I still can't forgive myself," David said.

After a long pause and some thought, Dr. Wright said, "You cannot turn the clock back and bring the dead back to life, but you can channel your negative energy into doing something positive. For example, you can work to stop wars by becoming an antiwar activist, David."

David's eyes sparkled with a faint glimmer of hope for the first time since visiting the shrink, and he nervously asked, "How can I start, Doc?"

"There are many effective ways to start your antiwar campaign. One approach is to participate in seminars, gatherings, and demonstrations that actively focus on antiwar and humanitarian issues to raise awareness and build community support. You might also consider starting a blog or vlog to share personal experiences from your time in the army and active duty in war zones, offering firsthand insights to those unfamiliar with the harsh realities of war. Another strong option is to pursue further education in journalism, giving yourself the skills to communicate issues more convincingly and powerfully. Each of these approaches can help spread your message and motivate others to join the movement. And most importantly, reduce your guilt," Dr. Wright suggested.

After weighing his psychologist's advice, David stood up with a renewed sense of determination and gratitude. He looked into his psychologist's eyes and said, "Thank you, Doc. I am committed to following your guidance completely. I will do everything possible to prevent future conflicts and promote peace. Thanks again for saving my soul and guiding me onto a better path."

David never returned to Dr. Wright's practice, but he regularly sent updates about his accomplishments as an antiwar activist. Over time, he built a strong reputation within his activist community, which led to many invitations to appear on TV shows and be featured in newspapers. These appearances helped him share his views and experiences more broadly, further spreading his antiwar message.

Dr. Wright also closely followed him, reading all of his posts and watching his interviews and speeches. He felt happy for David and proud to have helped him.

Several years went by before David publicly questioned government officials about the mysterious disappearance of Iraqi gold. This case gradually attracted widespread attention in newspapers and news broadcasts across the country. This media coverage fueled conspiracy theories and skepticism among the public. Dr. Wright, already familiar with the story from their previous conversations, closely followed these developments, sensing that they might uncover more details about the elusive case. In response to David's accusations, some politicians strongly denied them and resorted to personal attacks. They accused David of lying and being involved in criminal activities, while also questioning his mental health by suggesting he had PTSD or even schizophrenia, all to discredit him and weaken his credibility.

These back-and-forth accusations dragged on longer than typical news cycles until one day, Dr. Wright was stunned by shocking news on the morning broadcast he used to watch daily:

Former Navy SEAL Sergeant David Harris, the well-known anti-war activist and advocate, was found dead at his residence by his girlfriend. With his ongoing struggles with mental health and PTSD, police see it as a suicide. Further details about the circumstances of his death have not been disclosed. But an anonymous source declared he ended his life by firing a bullet into his temple, using the handgun that was registered under his name.

Dr. Wright was overwhelmed by the tragic and shocking news of David's death. His limbs felt numb with shock, and his mind raced uncontrollably as he struggled to process the devastating information. He sank heavily onto his couch, feeling paralyzed by intense grief and disbelief that seemed almost unbearable. Deep inside, he was convinced that David had been murdered—an act of brutality driven by sinister motives and powerful interests. Tears welled up uncontrollably in his eyes as he sat there, pondering the bleak state of the world, which he saw as filled with corruption, injustice, and greed. He believed that David's death was not just the result of his antiwar campaigns but was closely linked to his relentless probing questions about the missing Iraq treasury gold—an enormous sum worth billions of dollars—that had mysteriously vanished without a trace. This highly sensitive issue had threatened some of the most influential and secretive interests in the world, and now, it seemed, David had paid the ultimate price for seeking the truth. The grief caused by the news was so intense that he called his secretary and asked her to cancel all his appointments for the day.