Moments of Hate and Survival in Helmand

“A logistics patrol had been hit by an IED and in the commotion an element of the patrol became isolated and pinned down. We responded as able call signs to assist. On arrival to the target area a fire support group was already laying down the hate to extract the isolated element. I pushed my call sign further south of the canal following an irrigation ditch to establish a cordon. My vehicle had been static for a couple of minutes while I was scanning the mid ground for movement.

I heard the shots and the muffled thud of the rounds hitting the ceramic armour plates on the right side of the vehicle. A T*liban fighter had emerged from the long grass. He then switched his fire and selected me as the target in the turret as I traversed right and brought the the GPMG to bare on him. Two of his rounds hit the armour plate in the front of my machine gun mount. Fear was absent from him.

I took up the strain on the trigger and fired a long burst. The hot gun oil splashing back against my face. The stock reassuringly drumming into my shoulder; the rounds hit him in his upper chest and face. He was driven backwards and planted into the dirt as the rounds the ripped through his body.

He moved an arm and his left leg. He wasn’t dead yet but he would be as his lungs collapsing with every agonic breath. Drowning on his own blood from his open throat wound. I watched him and I felt nothing but pure f*cking hatred. F*ck him he wasn’t going to die fast. He was going to bleed out and suffocate in a pool of his own piss and blood. Alone and godless. F*ck this place.”

- Babajai. Helmand Province, Afghanistan. July 2009