It didn't take long to the plan the operation. Khalid's men already knew the terrain better than the most accurate maps available and I figured that it was best to keep the tactics as simple as possible. This fight doesn't need to be pretty, just effective.
After the sun dips below the horizon, the men of the tribe begin to celebrate around a huge bonfire constructed in the center of the camp. The rhythmic sounds of drums, singing, and a strange type of flute fills the night air, however, I don't quite feel in a "celebratory" mood and return to the solitude of my sand dune to think.
I unsling my rifle, place it across my chest, and lay back to stare up at the night sky. The moon shines brightly, reflecting off the sand, and bathing the desert in an eerie white light. It will definitely make it easier to maneuver tomorrow night, but that visibility goes both ways, and if we're not careful, the pirates will see us coming a mile away.
My mind then drifts away from the difficult situation at hand to thoughts of home. I hope that Clint and little Aurora are unaware of all this and that they both think I'm stuck in a boring office in the middle of the Mediterranean reading intelligence reports. That they don't know I have been thrust alone into the wilds of the Sahara with this daunting task ahead of me.
Sadly, I know this is probably not the case. Its standard procedure to contact the family as soon as a service member dies or goes missing. I fight back tears as I imagine a uniformed officer and a chaplain walking up to my front door is dress blacks, Clint seeing them and collapsing into a heap of hopeless sadness. Aurora screaming when she realizes for the first time that she'll never see me again.
"I will come back to them. I will fight my way home," I promise myself as I wipe a salty tear away from the corner of my eye.
"Why so sullen?" I hear a voice from the darkness behind me. I turn around to see Khalid walking towards the sand dune. Behind him, the men still chant, laugh, and play their music around the massive bonfire.
"I think a better question is why you're all so happy?" I say steadying my quivering voice and looking back up at the desert night.
"Because," Khalid says taking a seat on the warm sand next to me. "We are about to go into battle tomorrow. This could be our last night on this earth and we all do not wish to meet God with sadness in our hearts. Instead, we will steady ourselves with joy and know that paradise will await us…" Once again, I'm amazed at their simple view of things. I wish I could be that sure of the true nature of existence. "You however, Yellow-Haired Warrior, seem to be lost in a place that you do not wish to be."
"On the contrary," I say with a reluctant smile, "I want to be there very much…"
Khalid nods understandingly.
"Tell me about your family."
"Well," I reply not knowing where to begin. "My husband was a soldier like me. We met during the war my country fought against the Europeans a few years ago."
"Even here we heard of this war," Khalid says. "Very violent, very brutal…very sad. He must have been a great warrior to earn the heart of a woman such as you."
"He was a warrior," I say gently bighting my lower lip as I remember the moment I first fell in love with the mechanic called Ratchet, "but it wasn't that part of his personality that attracted me to him."
"Then what was it?" Khalid asks with a grin. I pause trying to think of the right words. Finally, I decide just to say it. After all, I feel I owe it to this man to tell the truth.
"Even my husband doesn't know this…" I begin with trepidation, "but my entire life, I've been afraid. That's how my mother raised me. Don't Trust Anyone. The world is out to destroy you if you let it. From the moment I struck out on my own when I was seventeen, I put on this thick armor, and didn't let anybody in. So, everybody thought I was this fierce, uncaring killer without remorse or pity, but from the first night the two of us spent together, Clint saw right through that. He saw inside to the scared little girl that ran away from home before she was ready. From then on, he's known me better than I've known myself…"
"Then, he must have a power of observation, I do not possess, for I don't see a scared little girl before me. I see a brave and powerful woman who lets nothing stand in her way…"
I can't help but chuckle a little.
"That reminds me of something my mother used to tell me."
"What is that?"
"If it stands in your way, kill it."
"Ha!" laughs Khalid. "And I'm sure you raise your daughter the same way."
"Not at all," I say desperately. "I want her to have the childhood I never had…a happy one."
"Hatchet, you know, it is possible to be both strong…and happy."
"I pray that Aurora never has to experience the things I have, but I know that she'll be alright as long as she has her father…just like I know I'll be."
"Then this is a man I would be honored to call my brother," Khalid says proudly.
"Why?" I ask with a chuckle. "You've never met him."
"I don't have to," Khalid replies. "He performs the primary task that a good man must: he protects you and all that you love. Keeping you safe is more than just using bullets and blades you know." I look down at the sand and smile.
"I guess you're right," I say before changing the subject to something a little less personal. "How about you? A great leader such as yourself, I'm amazed that you're not married." Instantly, Khalid's expression changes and he looks away. I can tell I've touched on something very painful to him.
"What happened to her?" I say before I even have the chance to stop myself.
"Her name was Asma," Khalid says as he fights back his own tears. "We were promised to each other as children, but despite that, I still loved her with all my heart, and she loved me with all of hers. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. Both here," he gently touches his face, "but also in here," he says moving his hand over his heart.
"Soon, after our wedding, the time of troubles began. The bandits started to attack and our supplies dwindled. She then found out she was carrying our child. As the son of the sheik, I could have gotten her more food, but she refused all extra help. She said that it would not be right to take from the tribe to fill our bellies. As the months progressed, she became weaker and weaker, but she still refused any extra sustenance, even the food that I set aside from my own plate…
When the birth pains finally began, she could not handle the strain on her body….she died, still carrying our son in her womb. God took both of them from me…" He pauses again before finally continuing. "It was her death that inspired my father to finally fight back against the militia. He fell avenging her."
Tears stream down his face now, and I feel myself crying with him.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
"No," he says steadying himself. "It was the will of God…Perhaps that is why I am so willing to help you, Hatchet. I was unable to protect Asma in this life, but with you, I might be able to redeem my honor for both her and my father because …I see their strength in you."
Without another word on the subject he stands up and turns back toward the firelight. "Now, I must return. The men will want to see their sheik celebrating the coming battle with them." He turns away, but I don't want him to leave. "We are all scared," he says before he disappears again back into the night, but I know that we will still triumph…either in this life, or the next. Get some sleep, we leave at sunrise."
Then, I am alone again. Suddenly, my separation from Clint and Aurora seems much less difficult to bear. Khalid and Asma will never be reunited again in this world, no matter the outcome of the coming battle, but I still have a say in whether or not I will see my family again. The self-pity disappears, and then my focus turns to iron. I reach for my rifle, rise to my feet, and join the celebration with the rest of the tribe.
The next morning dawns bright and clear. The warriors of the tribe begin their day with prayers again, but this time, I try to join them. I still do not understand the language, and I'm not sure who up there will hear my silent pleas for strength and victory, but somehow I feel connected to the higher power that guides everything these brave people do, and it gives me the same strength it seems to give them.
The women then emerge from the tents and give us bundles of food and leather bags filled with water for the journey. Then the younger boys of the tribe appear leading a herd of camels to us. The men load their steeds, secure their weapons, and then wrap their heads in their scarves to prepare for the journey.
A boy who looks about ten walks next to me and hands me the reigns to a camel.
"Oh no," I say waving my hand politely. "I don't need one, I'll just walk alongside them."
"It is a full day's ride through the sun and blowing dust to the enemy camp," I hear Khalid's voice say from behind me. I turn around to see him, already mounted high on the hump of his camel. He is even more striking than usual. In addition to his white robes, he has a huge curved sword slung at his side. I'm about to make a comment about how his choice of wardrobe might compromise our infiltration, but then I realize, maybe he wants to seen. "If you do not ride, then you will be so overcome by fatigue and thirst, you won't be much good in the fight."
"Well, I've never ridden a camel before," I say slightly embarrassed.
"It is very easy," he replies with a smile before he covers his face with his headscarf for protection from the elements. "It is just like riding a horse."
"Actually, I've never ridden one of those either," I reply even more embarrassed. Though I can't see his expression through the fabric, I'm sure it's one that's mocking me. He points to the boy with my camel and says something. The boy nods and grabs my hand.
Gently, the kid places it on the camel's neck and moves to help me to mount the animal. Awkwardly, I lift myself up into the saddle and try to steady myself as the camel gets used to my weight. Then the boy hands the reigns to Khalid who ties them to his saddle horn.
"Just follow behind me and don't make any sudden moves. They do not like that, and it's a long way down to the ground."
"You're telling me…" I say uncomfortably looking at the sand below.
Khalid then holds his rifle high in the air, shouts something to the rest of the men, and we begin our long ride through the desert. As the women of the tribe raise their covered arms into the air and began to wail loudly with fierce support, the other men in our caravan begin to shout
"Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!" It motivates them, and I feel it to. As I do my best to take it all in, Khalid reaches down into his saddlebag and passes something back to me. It is a large piece of white fabric, embroidered with black thread in simple geometric designs.
"Cover yourself before the sun gets too high, or else that ivory skin of yours will roast off your skull before noon." This is his desert and he knows it far better than I do. I don't offer any complaint and awkwardly manage to wrap the cloth around my head and face so that only my eyes are showing.
Finally, as we cross the edge of the tents into the endless dunes, I look back over my shoulder at the long line of ferocious warriors riding behind us. They all look forward and see me, riding a camel, with my head covered by one of their scarves. I cannot help but shout back to them at the top of my lungs
"Allahu Akbar!"
A few of the men raise their rifles in salute and shout back approvingly. That's when it hits me, I am now one of them. This may not be the army I imagined fighting with in Tripolitania, but it's the one I have, and I'm honored to be a part of it.