This morning soldiers from "Killer" Company rolled up to the TOC - ready to provide an armed and armored escort for our return to the small hamlet nestled in "Little Vietnam". In the days since our last visit word has spread about the children's lack of shoes and a small fund had been established. Once the money had been collected one of the interpreters went to a local market and returned with an oversize cardboard box brimming with sandals. Since I was buried under a mound of paperwork that looked more like a "Jinga" game then an in-box one of my soldiers, SPC Rivers, went along with the convoy.
The patrol to the overgrown palm groves flashed by, and as the vehicles approached the foul oil soaked road it looked like it would be a quiet and uneventful journey. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
It wasn't the report of a rifle or the shock wave of an IED that broke the silence. It was the keening cry that seemed to blaze a sonic trail behind the children racing one another back to the village. As the vehicles pulled into overwatch positons the sound only grew, until the sound of children's breathless laughter pierced the armor and drowned out the growling turbo diesels. By time the engines shuddered to a halt the vehicles were awash in a universe of smiling children and hopeful parents.
As the soldiers started to dismount several Iraqi soldiers in the area came to see what was causing all the ruckus. As the HMMWVs slipped into their view you could see the tension bleed off, and they eagerly approached our vehicles. Within a few short minutes the soldiers not pulling security were laughing with them and posing for the "Hollywood" photographs that are part and parcel of any "bilateral" operation.
Meanwhile something altogether unheard of was occurring... the children were self organizing. For a moment entropy stopped in its tracks and that rarest of creatures, good order, seemed to spontaneously appear. It was if a phoenix was rising from its own chaotic ashes - its every feather in perfect alignment. And surprisingly the children remained patient as SPC Rivers pulled out the box of sandals. By time the box was empty all the children were proudly parading around in their new sandals, stopping every few steps to admire their feet like little hens. The troops spent a few more minutes conversing with the heads of the household before moving back toward their vehicles. The children followed in a giggling, smiling group to see the soldiers off.
But the giving wasn't over. As the children approached the vehicles the gunners who had been providing security reached into their turrets and pulled out bags of candy. Each gunner grabbed enormous handfuls of candy and tossed them in long parabolic arcs towards the kids. Before the first handful had even reached the ground any semblance of order was gone. If you have ever been at a children's birthday and seen the wild abandon with which children attack a pinata then you know exactly what I mean.
As the village faded into the dusty wake of the HMMWVs the soldiers once again slipped into the hypervigilence that combat patrols demand. But the smiles splashed on everyones face at missions end came from more then just a safe return. It came from a job well done.
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