Left Side Of The Bunker example essay topic

Reflecting on my experience in the Persian Gulf War many things are readily accessible in my twisted memory. Time, distance and other irrelevant aspects are distorted and askew; each recollection is as daunting and subdued as the next. I can recall the fighting all too clear; days, nights, weeks and months in battle, minimal water and mealy scraps of food to eat. The time was 1500 hours in late February 1991 although it was around midday the sky resembled that of dark night. The ground war had been underway since the start of January about a month ago and I was mentally and physically exhausted. I was unaware then that my state of exhaustion would not be endured much longer, the war would be over in a matter of days and that we the coalition had managed to drive the Iraqis from Kuwait.

My platoon had been assigned the duty of clearing bunkers. During the last portion of our briefing we were given explicit instructions to ensure that we all made it back alive. We were also instructed to take prisoners if we could, if not, do what you were trained to do, "kill". Those orders ring in my ears to this day, lying in bed in a retirement village I can hear them as clear as the day they were muttered by my senior, they are the reason I am still alive today, I fought, bleed and killed for those words of wisdom. A meeting was called for all soldiers to attend.

Within minutes of receiving our order our platoon was in states of devastation, shock and excitement, events that followed would bring about a turning point in all of our lives, front line combat. I was only a boy of 24 years far too young to face the decay and ruin ahead of me, although at that point I was unaware of what was to greet my men and I at the front line. After walking almost an hour a member of my team detected movement one hundred meters north, it was an enemy bunker. I halted my squad, snatched the radio from Private Tucker warning the remainder of my platoon. I whispered into the handset, informing the commander of the current predicament.

Without hesitation, the commander ordered us to engage. Sparing no vacillation on my part, I directed two members of my squad to wait at the right side of the bunker, the other three men were to follow me. We dropped onto the cold unfamiliar ground into the prone position, the wet Saudi Arabian sand scratched my knees and engulfed my boots as we commenced crawling toward the left side of the bunker. While crawling, I realized that we could be killed within seconds; it was my job, as squad leader to insure that wouldn't happen.

Many emotions and feeling raced through my body, some familiar and some uncanny and out of place. Was it fear, excitement, or perhaps a mere lapse in concentration I was experiencing? I wasn't certain if I could, or even had the time or strength to weigh the feelings eluding me. I ordered desist in my men, regained my focus and re-clarify the importance of our mission. Upon completion of our final plan of attack we continued to crawl toward our objective.

As we approached the bunker, I realized that it was not only a bunker, but a trench line as well. I crawled back and radioed the commander of my findings. To which he began to repeat his previous order "engage your objective", followed by the more specific order to send one man inside to investigate. At that very minute, my world stood still. I had to make a decision. Which one of my warrior brothers was going to be the unlucky man?

The decision was simple; I'll send myself. Without notifying the commander, I slid into the trench in silence. Once inside the trench, I looked to my right and then to my left. No one was there, at least not in the trench. I moved toward the bunker were an encounter with an Iraqi soldier unexpectedly took place, he appeared at the entrance to the bunker like a ghost. I was startled and my internal instinct told me to reach for my gun and shoot to kill, I knew that our orders were to take prisoners', the decision was his; would he die today, or would he surrender?

Fortunately, with one look at the allied flag sewn on the left sleeve of my uniform, he laid down his rifle. I motioned for him to walk towards me and to climb out of the trench. With his hands above his head and with very little dignity or pride he proceeded up the side of the trench, only to be detained by my men. My mission wasn't over yet; I still had to clear the bunker and survey the remainder of the trench. I began to move toward the bunker at a slow but steady pace ever ready and expectant of an attack. As I approached the entrance of the bunker, I noticed a soldier lighting a cigarette.

Taking full advantage of the light provided by the match, I could make out three figures standing in the darkness, there were no weapons in sight. My heart was in my mouth and my stomach in knots, I said a short prayer and without delay committed to the task at hand. I ran inside shouting words in Sind i the native tough of Iraqi Arabs. But the men simply stood there looking at me with tears in their eyes. In disbelief and for some reason in discussed I shoved one of the men against a wall of the bunker. The other men ran up to the wall and stood next to their friend.

Their surrender was in parallel to the hundreds that had surrendered the night before. While inside the bunker, I visually inventoried the contents. I was surprised to find twenty-four large wooden boxes containing enough explosive material to level Kuwait to its borders. After my brief inspection of the inept bunker I could not help feeling remorse and sympathy for my enemy, what pathetic and dismal condition they endured during their time at war with the coalition, their country had not chance against this unstoppable power. How eager they were to lay down their arms and surrender the thought of being a prisoner of war was far less daunting then enduring the conditions of that bunker any longer. Later that night, I sat and pondered the evening's chain of events.

I recalled the brief lapse in concentration that had saved our lives. If I would have ordered the destruction of the bunker, or had I chosen another man to enter the trench, the entire platoon could have been vaporized by twelve tons of explosives stored inside. If I had acted in haste or shown the inner weakness I had felt, the outcome of the invasion may have been very different for all. I look back now at my time spent in battle, I do not begrudge this time or view it as something that weakened my as a person, it was simply a learning curb and in fact strengthen my spiritually and allows my to appreciate the little things in life. I am not glorifying war or condoning actions in warfare but I endeavor to see the best in all things and also remain optimistic.