Changing world views
Chris Topham
Issue date: 1/23/09 Section: Forum
My rifle let out a sudden CRACK as I sent my first toward the target. I followed it with a second, and as my target began to fail I moved to get cover behind a wrecked car that lay about ten meters ahead. My wingman, or "battle buddy" as we say in the Army, was on line with me, shooting when I shot and moving when I moved. While the other section of my team covered us, we got into position awaiting our covering fire so we could advance. We did our dance, moving our way down the battlefield to get closer to our targets, each man knowing exactly where to move and where to shoot in order to protect his comrades.
Finally, the rifles were silent and the targets are all down. We covered about one hundred meters of ground while making short sprints to stay safe behind solid objects on the battlefield. I picked up and ran to my partner, who looked at me and shouted, "Ana gayed," which is Arabic for "I am fine." I ran back to the rest of our team and received similar reports from them, then made my way to the course supervisor and gave him the thumbs up. He called an end to the mission, and we headed back to the starting line to clear our weapons and to be debriefed. It had only been three minutes.
Our platoon finally came together with two months left in training, of which five weeks were to be spent simulating combat and not a moment too soon. I had made a point to develop good relations with every man in our unit and had taken a special liking to the international officers who hailed from countries all around the globe: Guyana, Lebanon, Mali and Romania to name a few. My battle buddy in today's mission was a Lebanese officer. He was 35-years-old but still young and energetic, and a good friend who had been on the front lines against Israel for the past three years. His office was a mere two kilometers from the Israeli lines, and every morning he walked to work and counted the enemy artillery emplacements that were aimed at his compound. In his spare time, he hiked into the mountains and hunted wild pigs with an old Korean sniper rifle.
Finally, the rifles were silent and the targets are all down. We covered about one hundred meters of ground while making short sprints to stay safe behind solid objects on the battlefield. I picked up and ran to my partner, who looked at me and shouted, "Ana gayed," which is Arabic for "I am fine." I ran back to the rest of our team and received similar reports from them, then made my way to the course supervisor and gave him the thumbs up. He called an end to the mission, and we headed back to the starting line to clear our weapons and to be debriefed. It had only been three minutes.
Our platoon finally came together with two months left in training, of which five weeks were to be spent simulating combat and not a moment too soon. I had made a point to develop good relations with every man in our unit and had taken a special liking to the international officers who hailed from countries all around the globe: Guyana, Lebanon, Mali and Romania to name a few. My battle buddy in today's mission was a Lebanese officer. He was 35-years-old but still young and energetic, and a good friend who had been on the front lines against Israel for the past three years. His office was a mere two kilometers from the Israeli lines, and every morning he walked to work and counted the enemy artillery emplacements that were aimed at his compound. In his spare time, he hiked into the mountains and hunted wild pigs with an old Korean sniper rifle.
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