One moment of patience may ward off great disaster. One moment of impatience may ruin a whole life.
- Ancient Chinese Proverb
One of the iron clad rules the cavalry soldiers passed along as they were leaving was to never let your guard down. It was valuable advice - not everyone who warmly shakes your hand is your friend. But just as true is the inverse of that law - not everyone who appears threatening is your enemy. Several of our soldiers relearned that lesson today while setting up a TCP (traffic control point - aka checkpoint) on one of the crowded streets of Baghdad.
On this overbright morning the patrol slowed to a crawl, using the inertia of the armored HMMWVs to coast into a geometrically precise roadblock. Before the rolling vehicles had even come to a rest soldiers neatly divided themselves into two groups, each performing their choreographed movements. The first group fanned out to provide a thick belt of security around the convoy while the remaining troops went about the business of setting up the oversize Arabic and English signs warning traffic of the checkpoint.
In the blink of an eye the empty stretch of road became an invisible dam holding back a thrumming reservoir of idling cars. But before the blockade had even solidified a small sedan made a sweeping turn around the stalled traffic and into the sandy median. The beat up vehicle quickly picked up speed, shooting past the waiting vehicles and dragging a growing train of pulverized dirt. Our senior NCO was nearest to the threat, and he immediately put himself in the drivers line of sight and signaled it to stop. The car hurtled onward and CSM Plato again motioned for the vehicle to halt. The driver continued to speed toward the TCP, and by now the vehicle was almost to the empty space between the stopped vehicles and the heavily armed TCP.
CSM Plato tried to signal the driver to stop one last time, but the driver broke into the clear and the CSM raised his M4 carbine to his shoulder. In that split second, half a hearbeat from ruin, the driver suddenly understood how precarious his situation really was. The small sedan screeched to a halt, the locked wheels gouging deep troughs in the sand.
The sedan wasn’t filled with a family. The driver wasn’t an insurgent. He was, simply put, the world’s dumbest taxi driver. As the dust settled around the car all you could see was the passenger whaling on the driver like a side of beef. Before anyone had a chance to intercede the TCP started folding in on itself, pulling together like a paper being creased into an origami figure. By time we were packed and ready to go the passenger was still raging. I have a feeling that taxi driver didn’t get a very big tip.
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