Fourteen tons of sharply angled steel encases us like a suit of armor. My vision is restricted much like that of a horse with blinders on. Three small periscopes are my only portal to the world. The scene is like something from the movies. Thick black smoke billows up from vehicles contorted in fire, tongues of flame igniting fuel and oil as it drips to the ground. Burnt rubber and cordite waft upward on a breezeless trajectory. Windows shattered by concussions have showered jagged shards of glass in every direction. On each side of the obstructed road, victorious Marines are betrayed by their faces. Faces that days ago were filled with smiles and youthful arrogance are now stained with muddy tears and an ancient humility. Their eyes speak a warning I fail to understand, my only experience with combat coming from Hollywood films.

Ahead lay the bridge secured to allow the advancement of forces to Baghdad. Command issued new orders: armor would be the tip of the spear, an exciting prospect. Light Armored Reconnaissance would lead the assault toward Baghdad, Alpha Company would lead, followed by Bravo Company and then HeadQuarters. I pressed the accelerator and the engine groaned as we crested the battered bridge. Along the river’s edge, grass grows taller than men and basks in the afternoon sun. From my vantage point on the bridge, I get a brief glimpse of the lush countryside. The Iraqi natives have created irrigation trenches called “wadies” to water their fields of wheat and barley. Palm trees dot the landscape and adobe homes are spaced out by twisting roads and trails that lead to the river, a goat pen, the market, and beyond.

Northbound for Baghdad that’s the plan nevermind the pleasant view. Far ahead is smoke on the horizon. Helicopters buzz by the eastern side of the convoy like track stars in a relay race, constantly unloading their payloads and then returning for more fuel and ammunition. We pass buildings that have been reduced to smoldering rubble by barrages of helicopter rockets. Secondary explosions cause me to jerk my head in their direction, anticipating the worst. The sun, my only clue as to the time, suggests it’s late afternoon.

The radio crackles with news of Alpha Company engaging enemies only a mile ahead of us. My heart starts pounding like a war drum. With the constant attack of helicopters and heavy rain of artillery shells, it’s hard to make out the “thump, thump, thump” of the 25mm cannon. Approaching a “T” intersection, I see a huge, dull-colored tile picture of Saddam Hussein on the eastern side of the road. Riddled with bullet holes, the dictators’ picture paints a new story as the broken tiles lay in a pile on the ground. A smile crosses my lips, and I feel a sense of justice for the Iraqi people. I turn West playing a game of follow the leader with the rest of the battalion. Alpha Company’s guns are pointing North, the barrels of their cannons glowing red as they spit round after round of high explosive ammo into an enemy stronghold. The firing stops and Alpha Company continues West.

Upon arriving, the damage becomes apparent. Bombs, rockets, and artillery have terraformed the landscape. Small craters have changed the road into something like a pegboard. A large building a thousand meters North of the road is or was the enemy stronghold. From the road to the building is a plethora of craters, some small like a pop can and others large enough to swallow busses. The soil has been overturned every which way, trees turned to splinters, and twisted chunks of shrapnel lay like mulch over the expanse. The Southern wall of this five-story stronghold is at the bottom of the largest crater. I can see into every floor, the walls inside have been mangled by bullets and charred by fire. Chunks of wall breaking away under the pressure of the enormous weight. The convoy doesn’t stop, and the demolished site is left in our wake.

We turn North again; the sun is fleeting. Palm forest and palm rows break the shrub fields into sections that remind me of hedgerows, and fields back home. Just off the left side of the road, an enemy truck is stopped. The vehicle is angled slightly away from the road, the driver still at his post. Head leaning against his window, eyes forward and open, a single hole in his forehead. The crimson blood running down his nose and eyes, matting in his kempt beard and finally slowly dripping onto his fatigue blouse. I feel sorry for him. Was he a father? How will his family deal with his death? How would my family deal with my death should it be my turn? He is the first dead man I’ve ever seen. Will there be more? Just up the road is another enemy truck, this one on fire and erupting with secondary explosions. The munitions it carried are now cooking off and sending projectiles in every direction.

With darkness settling in, the bright flashes and deafening booms create a spectacle similar to a Fourth of July celebration. I white-knuckle the steering wheel, listening to projectiles “ping” off the side of the vehicle. After a couple “pings,” I relax my grip and breathe a sigh of relief. My slight sympathy for the dead man had washed away immediately.

Alpha Company has taken up its defensive position along the road, covering North, East, and South. Bravo Company fills in the North, West, and South. HeadQuarters and the mortar vehicles take the center. With the defensive coil established, I can finally leave my drivers’ hole and piss. I open my drivers’ hatch and stand up, stretching my sore legs for the first time since morning, and a cool breeze hits my cheek. The Iraqi sky filled with stars creates an automatic night light, allowing me to make out the shrubs and the shape of some buildings a few hundred yards away. I take off my communication helmet and replace it with my Kevlar. It’s heavy and I’m exhausted but it’s the rule. I climb down and check the tires on the left. Go around the front and check the right, all the tires are good. I relieve myself and go back around the front of the vehicle, climb up and reluctantly slide back down into the cramped driving compartment. I close the drivers’ hatch and to my surprise, a burst of enemy fire hits the ground where I just stood. Adrenaline surges through my whole body, I can feel the hairs on my neck rise. The entire perimeter erupts with machine gunfire, and the dreaded sound of mortars whistling in the air and thundering to the ground, spraying sand, rocks, and chunks of plant material flying. Our enemy has been waiting for us, preparing a trap. The gunners waste no time and respond to the threat in kind. The noise is deafening and concussions rock the vehicle.

As the battle outside rages on, I sit trying to collect my thoughts. The visual warning from the bridgemen finally materializing into something I can understand; this is war. A fragile line is being walked between life and death, and it feels oddly exuberating. I sit here waiting for someone to call my name into action, or will it be a mortar that calls to me? The steel casing of the vehicle reminds me of the “whole armor of God.” Is he here? Somewhere, walking among us? No. But Death, yeah, he has to be here? With his icy fingers outstretched, waiting to quickly snuff out whomever he can. “Ping,” I snap back to reality as the bullet bounces off the steel. “Fuck.” I smile. This is war, the most noble death a man can have. Just outside my portal.

Bright white lights beaming down, the smell of markers and crayons. Looking outside to see mothers and fathers taking their kids home after a parent-teacher conference. It always seems to go the same way. We’d walk in the room, sit down and be asked the question my mother always has to leave the room to explain, “Will the father be joining us today?” When I was young, not even a year old, my mom, sister, brother, and I moved to Michigan to start over away from my father. It was years later that I learned from my estranged relationship with my father that trust is not given but earned. 

Jump ahead seven to eight years, I’m about to start middle school where a lot of things in my life, past and present start to directly affect me as a person. At this time, I was finally understanding the situation about my father, which brought me to a very gloomy, and ominous place.  I felt trapped and more importantly, I felt alone. As time went by, the agony and unhappiness slowly started to morph into resentment. I was engulfed in rage every time I heard my father’s name or when I was told, “You’re your father’s son, you look just like him.” 

One day coming home from school my mom signaled me to come over with a wave of a hand as soon as I stepped through the front door. As I got closer she started to hand me the phone and says, “it’s your father.” Lost in the train of thought, I ignored her and just focused on what I was going to say. The more I thought about it, the more my adrenaline and irritation increased.  I picked up the phone and said nothing waiting for a response. Then finally, he said only two words, “ Hey Son.” All it took were those two words to convert all my anger into sadness. I started to cry and hysterically ask questions like, ”Where are you?” and “what took you so long to contact me?” We didn’t talk for long and he mainly just asked about me. Before long, he said that he was sorry and I felt warmth in his words as if I were in a blanket of sunlight. Finally, I gave the phone back to my mother.  

Happiness was something new to me at the time, and with my father’s somewhat abrupt entry into my life, I was peaceful. Not long after, I called my father many times, but I never once got an answer or a callback. I started loathing myself and all that dispersed bitterness and anguish started to flow back into me. Where’d he go? Am I not important to him? He left once, why’d he leave again?  Not long after I started to transfer all my rage back towards my father.  

A year after my last contact with my father, my mother got home and rounded up my sister, brother, and I.  I didn’t think much of this “family meeting,” but I started to get scared when my mother shed her first tear. The information passed down to my sister, brother, and I made everything obsolete, made everything cold, it made time refrain from running its course.  

I guess if I think back to that time. I was scared that it was true because I could never actually show him what he was missing. My father died that day my mom rounded us up, and I’ve never been the same. We truly don’t know how he died, whether it was a heart attack or he

overdosed on drugs. After his death, I’ve started to learn a lot more about my father and his drug addiction. When I was born, my father started to do coke and other drugs like pills, and that was why we left all those years ago. Even though it was my mom who was the one who took us away from my father, I still blame everything on him because I feel like he chose drugs over me and my family.

To this day I feel no devotion to my father. I only harbor resentment for the guy who abandoned me when I was one. For the guy who mislead me when I cried to him.  For the guy who left twice and didn’t bother to say his regards. 

Ever since that day, I’ve always had trouble trusting others and I took everything with a grain of salt.  Not having my father there when I needed him the most, and then having him die even before I even knew him was an eye-opener.  I changed how I looked at everything. I made three rules for myself after my father’s death. Number one: don’t make others feel the way you did. Number two: don’t trust everyone; only those who’ve earned it. Number three: take everything with a grain of salt.  

10 December 2019

Cristos de las Noas

One pm had it the town of Torreón, the blinding hot sun was set high in the freckled sky. The town was busy as ever, the streets were flooded with cars and the palm trees that were all around the streets, looked like they were in dire need of water. My family and I were staying at my cousin Elisa’s house; her house was a pale yellow on the outside and the windows had a white bar like framing on them. There were two doors the first one was bar like as well, the second one was normal, besides the fact that when opening the door, the bottom hinges would come off the frame. Walking inside you are greeted by a small space with walls that were painted bright pink, yellow and green. I instantly walked inside and headed towards the left corner of the room where the air conditioner was placed and turned my back towards it. When turned on the air was warm, my body at this point was sweaty and overheating; once the cold air kicked in, it felt as though I was at the beach and a big gush of cold water hit my back. I sat down with a cold glass of water in my hand. My family and I all sat around in the small space, some of us in the living room and some of us in the dining room and kitchen. We talked about all the drama that was going on with my family in Mexico, we also talked about what we were going to be doing the following day, My father and my cousin were talking about going and having dinner with my other cousins at their house. We spent a lot of time outside of the house in Mexico, my family down there always were spending time with each other, not at all what I was used to, in Michigan. My family and I never really went out and did things together as a family.

Now the time was six pm, my family and I were talking about going and seeing Cristos de las Noas (Christ of the Noas) in Coahuila, Torreón. Eight of us piled into a minivan that was only meant to seat six people, the front seats is where my mom and dad sat, me and my brother took the middle two seats, and my cousins were then forced to sit in the back, with the younger two sitting on top of their mom and sister. We arrived at the road that leads up to Cristos de las Noas, and it was snake-like. It twisted sharply at times, every turn we would make all of us in the car turn as well, it was like we were part of the road. While all of the snake movements were going on we were also going higher and higher from the ground we started off on, going higher each turn made my eardrums pop multiple times, it felt as though I had earbuds in my ear and someone came 

up to me and yanked them out of my ears. While driving up the road my brothers expression was amusing, his eyes were wide while looking over the edge of the somewhat railed road, his mouth was clenched tight and his fist was clenching his pant leg, so tight that his hand was no longer pink in tone, instead a pale color, almost white, he was scared of heights. Being the cruel people we are, we couldn’t help but laugh at his expression’s, 

and the way he couldn’t look away. Finally, we arrived at the top. We saw people biking up the hill we drove up, I couldn’t believe they had the will power to do it.  As soon as the car was in park, my family sitting in the back forcefully told me and my brother to open the door so they could get out and stretch their legs. 

Walking to the edge of the “building” we all naturally looked down and saw how high we actually were. There were lights that lit up the trail below us enough to see where you were going, looking beyond that you couldn’t see anything else. There weren’t many people there, only a couple of families that were there for what seemed there hundredth time. Even though they had seen this museum multiple times, from what I could see, they were still amazed by what the view had to bring. On my right, there was a set of wide-set stairs, in which my family and I took multiple pictures on. At the top of another wide but narrow set of stairs, there was this enormous white Jesus statue that held his arms out wide, and his hands in a cup-like shape, as if he was a cross, his face was in a calm stance, from my view (looking up at him) he looked as though he was content. There were these stage lights that were on the ground, pointed up and exposed the Jesus statue in the dark, it made him look as though he was a giant light, meant to guide you over his way. After admiring the statue we saw these stairs that lead to a higher ledge, we walked up the stairs and were met with a platform that was in the shadows, there wasn’t much light where we were, but there was enough to see and not trip yourself.  All of us walked towards the edge of the platform, there was large thick railing, so you don’t go off the edge. Looking into the night it was pitch black, not a single

star or light in the sky but you could see the town and all the house that lit up in the dark, in a way the lights reminded me of a Christmas tree, they were bright and energetic. A train in the distance was slithering through the dark, it had no lights besides the one that was at 5the head and lead the way, if we weren’t looking very deeply at the scene, we would have missed it. Taking a final look at the way the city looked brought a silence that I only knew was there, it felt as though my ears forgot how to hear, yet kids were yelling and playing all around me, though staring into the night of lights and darkness made the rest of the world seem nonpresent to me. The air was warm, but cold at the same time, I took a very deep breath in and exhaled a minute later, this view had made me stop thinking completely and take in what I’m seeing and appreciate life, my family, friends, and all of the memories we’ve created in life.

Heading home around eight, we were all exhausted, my younger cousins had already fallen asleep, I was on the verge of it myself.  We finally arrived at Elisa’s house, we all piled out of the minivan once more and sat in the living room and talked, it ranged from typical family drama, weird jokes that made you laugh until you had a headache. We also talked about the things we had bought from the stores that we visited earlier that day, and go googly-eyed over what other people had bought, but we were all tired after a long day, and oddly awake at the same time. Around eleven I finally felt tired again, so I went and lied down on a very soft bed. I laid there for a minute or so, staring into nothing, I finally rolled over, covered myself up and went to bed. 

Makenzie MacDougall  

English Composition 1 

9 September 2019 

Taking Life for Grated   

  Why do we take things for granted?  All we have, our life, our family, our treasures, should be appreciated but for some reason a lot of us take those things for granted. I for one used to take things for granted until one day my life changed.    

My father hung up the phone and turned to look at us. His voice was shaky, when he told us that my cousin was in a bad accident. We quickly got ready and left the house. We picked up my uncle on the way to the hospital because we didn’t want him to drive by himself considering what had happened. As it started to get dark, clouds were moving in, the wind was picking up, raindrops started to fall on the windows, and we were trying to get there as fast as we could. With thought’s racing in our minds as we sat in the car, we hoped we would get there in time and get some answers. It felt like hours before we finally arrived at the hospital and walked in. After walking through the big glass doors, we went straight to the nurse’s station. After checking in with the nurse, a social worker came and led us to a small conference room. The conference room was very cold, it had tan walls, bright lights, and only had a small couch and a few chairs. As we sat there waiting for someone to come in and talk to us, I was recalling every moment before we got the call. I had just got done with a volleyball practice and I was on my way home. I was tired and hungry so I was striving to get home as fast as I could. When I arrived home and walked through my front door, all I could smell was lasagna and garlic bread. After setting my things down in my room, I walked back into the kitchen and began to get my plate. As I started to eat my meal, the phone started to ring. 

 My father got up to answer it. While he was on the phone my mother and I were sitting there quietly still eating our meals. My father started to get a worried expression on his face, so my mother and I were patiently waiting for him to get off the phone to find out what was wrong.  

Suddenly, the door opens, and a doctor walked in the conference room and all the events I was recalling just disappeared, my mind blanked. The doctor had sat down across from all of us and began to tell us about my cousins’ condition. I was trying hard to focus on what the doctor was saying but it was very hard to understand everything. My anxiety level was risen, my heart rate fast, most of what was said just went over my head, but there were a few things that stood out. The last thing the doctor said to us was that my cousin had a major head injury. He told us that my cousins’ brain was swelling, and that they were doing everything they could to help him, but his chances look good. Once the doctor had left the room, our family just sat there speechless, not knowing what to say. After a while a nurse walked into the room, she told us that she was going to take us to a different conference room that was closer to the room my cousin was in. The room that we were moved to was much bigger. It was warmer inside, had light blue walls and had many seats for everyone to sit in. As we sat there, we were talking amongst each other about what was going on and what our next steps would be. Finally, a group of three doctors and a nurse walked in. They sat down at the table and told us that they had come in to talk with us about his condition and to answer any of the questions we may have had at that time. While the doctors were in the room with us, my cousin started to crash. A nurse walked in rather fast and whispered something in the main doctor’s ear. 

 The doctor silently got up and left the room abruptly. While the main doctor was gone the other two kept answering all our questions. A little while later the doctor had come back in the room and told us why he had to leave so abruptly. He said unfortunately, the brain just keeps swelling and there is really nothing else we can do. After the doctors finished talking and we had asked all our questions, the main doctor asked us what our opinion was and what we wanted to do. He said we could either keep reviving him when he crashes, or we can let him go. We all sat there quietly for a moment exchanging looks. After a few minutes, we started to talk as a family to see what each person thought about the situation. We all decided that the best thing to do would be to let him go if he started to crash again. Everyone took turns going into his room and saying goodbye, except me. I couldn’t do it due to the fact I didn’t want the last image of him to be like that.  Once everyone finished saying goodbye, his parents went in and sat with him. It felt like a long time but really it was only about an hour and a half before his parents had come back out of the room and told us he was gone. When I heard those words, I instantly broke down into tears. It felt like my heart was being shattered into a million pieces. We all sat in the conference room for a while grieving together before we went our separate ways. On the way home, all the memories I had with him, all the fun adventures and family holidays we shared were rushing around in my mind. Once we arrived at home, we all decided the best thing to do would be to try and get some sleep. It took a long time for me to fall asleep, all I could think about was how everything would change. After a while, I finally fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t comprehend that any of it was true. I sat in my bed hoping that it was all just a bad dream, but unfortunately it wasn’t.  

Over the next few days, during the funeral and at the burial site, I still couldn’t grasp the thought that it was all so real. Then suddenly out of nowhere, it just clicked. I realized everything that was happening was really happening and it was time to say a final goodbye.  

No one every expects these bad things to happen in their lives. I realized that I never really expected something like this to happen to my family or to me until it did. I never really paid attention to how quickly things can change or how rapid they could be taken away. Many people in the world today take so many things for granted. They take their family and friends for granted, they take their possessions for granted, but most of all they take their own life for granted. I for one like everyone else, took things for granted until something happened in my life that changed the way I look at things. By losing a very close relative, it opened my eyes and made me realize that I need to stop taking things for granted because those things may not always be there. My advice for anyone reading this is to never take anything for granted, no matter what it may be. You should always cherish the things you care most about in your life because in a blink of an eye those things could be gone forever.