Opposition

The dust from the rocket explosions swirled around Sergeant Jack Calloway as he crouched for cover behind a crumbling wall in the middle of the town square. Clutching his M-4 rifle tightly, sweat pouring down his face, stinging his eyes, he scanned the area for any signs of the enemy.

The sound of distant gunfire filled the air, sending a chill down Jack's spine. He had been in Iraq for months now, and the constant violence had taken its toll on him. Separated from his unit, his radio damaged during the last enemy engagement, and alone, his thoughts briefly turned to his family and the life he had left behind.

Peering over the wall, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He quickly aimed his rifle, ready to fire, but paused when he saw a young woman emerging from the smoke.

She was covered in dust, her clothes torn and her eyes wide with fear. Jack lowered his rifle, his heart racing as he realized that she was a civilian.

"Do you speak English… Can I help you?" he called out, his voice hoarse with the weight of the war.

The woman hesitated for a moment before nodding and running towards him. Jack helped her over the wall, his mind racing with questions.

"What are you doing out here? It's not safe," he said, his voice laced with concern.

The woman, Fatima, looked up at him, her brown eyes filled with tears. "My home, it's gone. My family, I don't know where they are," she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

Jack's heart went out to her. He knew all too well the horrors of war and the toll it took on innocent civilians.

He handed her a spare canteen of water from his pack. "Here, take a drink,” he instructed. “We need to get out of here... and right now,” he muttered under his breath while studying the windows in the buildings overlooking their position for any signs of enemy soldiers.

She pulled a long drink from his canteen and offered it back to him.

“Come with me, I'll do my best to help get you to safety," he said, gesturing for her to follow him.

As they made their way through the rubble and war-torn streets, Jack couldn't help but notice the way Fatima moved. She was graceful and strong; despite the hardships she had undoubtedly faced. They talked as they walked, exchanging stories of their lives before the war.

Fatima had been a teacher; she had a passion for teaching and adored her students. Jack listened as she spoke of her love for her students and her hopes for a better future.

Jack shared stories of growing up in Texas, playing sports in High School, and working on his uncle’s ranch, herding cattle as a Cowboy.

The sun was setting as they reached the edge of the city and Jack's unit came into view. He could see the familiar faces of his comrades, their expressions grim and determined.

“There he is,” one of his squadmates announced, “Sergeant Calloway, where the hell have you been?”

"This is it," Jack said, turning to Fatima. "I have to go."

Fatima nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I understand. Thank you for your help."

The two of them stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Jack felt a lump form in his throat as he realized that he would probably never see Fatima again.

"Goodbye," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Goodbye," Fatima replied, before turning and walking away.

Jack watched her go; his heart heavy with the knowledge that he was headed into battle while she was returning to a war-torn home. He took a deep breath and turned to join his unit, determined to do his duty to both his country and comrades, but also to never forget the woman whose path he had briefly crossed.

Years passed and Jack returned home from the war, haunted by the the things he had witnessed and done. He tried to put the past behind him and move on with his life, but the memories lingered, always present in the back of his mind.

One day, while browsing through a local bookstore, Jack came face to face with Fatima’s resolute brown eyed gaze once again, but not in person, it was the portrait on her bestselling book. He picked it up and began to read, surprised to find that it was a memoir about her experiences during the war in Iraq. As he read, he was struck by her words, her resilience, and her hope for a better future.

Finishing the book, he realized that Fatima had been an inspiration to him; helping him find both meaning in the chaos of war, and solace in the years since. Feeling a renewed sense of purpose, he decided to reach out to her.

Jack found her contact information through the publisher and sent her an email, telling her about finding and reading her book and how it had touched him. To his surprise, she responded, and they began to correspond regularly.

As they wrote to each other, it became apparent that they both found comfort in the connection they had formed that day on the battlefield. They shared their stories, their fears, and their hopes, and in doing so, they continued to heal.

Finally, Jack decided to visit her in Iraq. After the long flight, Jack’s cowboy boots found purchase on the Iraqi tarmac as he stepped off the plane and into the familiar furnace of the desert heat. A distant wave of nostalgia washed over him.

Before Jack made ten steps toward the terminal he was greeted by Fatima, who had not changed a bit, her eyes still held the same warmth and hope they had the first time they met, but now completely absent of the fear they held that day. She welcomed him with open arms, and they spent a week together, talking, sharing, and sometimes laughing together.

They realized that a special bond had been forged between them by the shared experience of war and the brief, but meaningful, moment shared all those years ago.

As Jack prepared to leave, Fatima looked at him with tears in her eyes. "I am so glad you came," she said.

"Me too," Jack replied, his own eyes misty. "I’ll always remember you, and the hope you gave me during the darkest of times."

They hugged each other tightly, knowing that their paths may have crossed only for a moment, but the impact they had on each other's lives would last a lifetime.

They said their goodbyes, promising to keep in touch, and as Jack walked away, he knew that he would always carry a piece of Fatima with him, a reminder of the hope and resilience he had found in the midst of war.