David Zei (Bio)
The forest was screaming with a cacophony of monstrous insects, wild boars, snakes, and whatever else that was out there making hideous noise. Miles in the muggy Georgia wilderness there was not a shred of light. The moon did not even show her face. I swung my entrenching tool into the tough earth. Dirt violently sprayed my uniform, which was already soiled from days in the field. With each swing, I imagined I was beating the guys I got in a fight with in the barracks a few weeks prior. That particular fight ended with me on the ground. I could only dream of revenge.
I was told I would be a “hero”. I was told the Infantry was the coolest job in the Army. I just felt like a loser digging a hole. Crawling into my grave, I felt accomplished, having spent over an hour digging through layers of roots and clay. I thought about what my friends were doing as I dusted off my M4. They were probably enjoying their summers and here I was, covered in dirt, lying in a hole. I flipped down my night vision lens, the wood line was suddenly illuminated a vivid green. I scanned the thick woods, riddled with creeping vines, and trees that spired into the night sky. Our intel was that we were supposed to be attacked. It could be in hours, maybe minutes, but all I could think about was that it’s around 2 am and I just want to close my eyes. My comrades had their optics fixed on the forest, 360-degree security. That is if no one was asleep.
As I watched the trees, my mind started to drift. In a few weeks this would all be over. I would see my family, look at my phone, listen to music, eat real food, all of which I hadn’t done in months. I never really liked living in the suburbs, but I sure missed it. I was a long way from home. At this point I wasn’t even sure this was all worth it, being screamed at, the fights, sleepless nights. I was trapped in this hell all summer. However, I did know that I would not give up. I fanaticized about the day that I would get my cross rifles and blue chord, the symbols of a warrior. Where I would walk across the graduation field, the smell for fresh cut grass tingling my nose. I had to make it to graduation, but now I had to focus on my training, to protect my fellow soldiers from an eminent attack.
Time seemed to bend as we waited, hours passed, maybe it was minutes? It’s hard to tell when you’re running on empty. I peered back into my electric eye waiting for something, anything, to move. Then I saw it, a small flash passed through my lens a few hundred meters away. I wrestled my way out of the hole and crawled to my buddy Sisk in the hole next to me. “Dude, I think I saw someth…” My sentence was cut short by a vibrant white flare shot through the dark. It rested in the sky like a brilliant star. I snapped back to my position, adrenaline rushing though me. I flicked on my night vision and the laser attached to my M4. Shapes of bodies peppered in my sight. My finger slid on the trigger of my rifle. I knew that rifle like the back of my hand. It was one of my only friends in Georgia, except it never talked back.
A symphony of Machine guns, M4’s and heavy weapons roared through the blackness. Pulling the trigger, my M4 joined the deafening song. I bounced my laser around the labyrinth of trees, firing at the chromatic green shapes approaching. Muzzle flares brightly flashed around me. Spent shell casings discharged from my weapon littered my hole. Soldiers screamed out enemy positions: “12 O’clock 200 meters!”, “7 O’clock 150 meters!” We were surrounded. I re-loaded my magazine like clockwork and concentrated firing at the silhouettes. The symphony reached a great crescendo. I squeezed the trigger with precision, like a brilliant musician pressing on the strings of a violin, not missing a single note.
I knew in this moment I had to enjoy pumping out lead, because when the dust settled we would have to change positions. I did not know how many miles I would trudge after this, on another endless march to nowhere, as a hallow shell of my suburban self. After the firefight my hole would have to be abandoned, but there was always another hole to dig.