The Price of Peace

The sun beats heavy on the war-ravaged lands of Israel. I’ve been on patrol for the last few days now. I can feel the heat taking its toll on my body already. But I must remain vigilant. My tactical gear makes a simple patrol mission all the more strenuous. But I keep moving. My Tavor becomes heavier with each passing moment as my arms begin to give into my body’s encroaching exhaustion. But, I cling to it anyway. The shemagh wrapped around my head does little to deter the sun’s rays. But I won’t complain. I, and my brethren suffer and soldier for the safety of our people and of our country. War has claimed the lives of those we love, those we hate and even those we will never know. It has raped the lands of our people for centuries. We were raised in war. We live in war. We will die in war... war, in the name of God. People are shuffling all around the city, talking amongst themselves of civilian trivialities. Some take heed of me as I walk past them stone-faced. A few bow their head to me and whisper under their breath.

I cannot help but wonder; in all His great benevolence, why does God allow his people to suffer for millennia? If we are His chosen people, why must we seek to prove ourselves? Why does He condone all of this bloodshed, in His name or otherwise? Peoples from across the deserts and seas have come to assert that God has chosen them. That our country belongs to them because God told them so. They call us ‘infidel’, when all we ask is peace. Alas, peace always comes at a price. Have my people not paid enough to You? We have been slaughtered in droves throughout history, and continue dying at the hands of malicious people. We ask for Your mercy and you continue to turn away from us… Have I not paid enough, Lord? My entire life was spent serving You, killing those who seek to hurt innocent people. And yet, You’ve taken the only peace I’ve ever known in my life from me. I only ask, why God… why?

The memory still aches like a fresh wound. I had come home to find my house had been raided. Whoever did it left no trace of their presence behind, other than the corpses of my wife and daughter. Their bodies were lying in pools of congealed blood. The cabinets were opened and emptied haphazardly. Random bits and pieces of my family’s life were littered all over the floor. Dishes, chairs, photos lay broken and bloodstained alongside my family. Their bodies were close together and laying face up in similar positions. They were both shot a few times in the chest. Their eyes still open in expressions of pure horror and their wounds gaping. Tears began spilling from my eyes. I screamed in heartbreak and fury before dropping to my knees. I couldn’t hold myself from sobbing. No amount of training could have readied me for this. My Betje’s warm, round face had sunken. Her loving amber eyes now cold and polluted by the bleak wash of death. The woman who I swore to love and protect. Who bore my only child… our child. I looked over at Mari’s body. Her eyes looked like mine; A deep green that used to light up when she laughed. They too were now blighted by her untimely death. I promised to keep her and Betje safe. That I’d go win the fight for them. I was flooded by memories of our life together. Betje beaming at me on the night of our wedding. Mari being born and tears of joy streaming down my face. Betje and I singing her to sleep, in awe of the beautiful miracle we created. I felt suffocated under the oppressive weight of rage, despair, and pain. They didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for this. If I’m the one who has to risk my life for this war, why did they have to die? Why am I still alive? Why, God… why?

The heat is almost unbearable as if the sun itself is trying to fight me. Thankfully, I come across a tall, old adobe wall that casts a great shadow. I quickly check for trouble before taking a moments rest in the shade. I study the mural that’s been painted on the wall. There are three black figures of a man, woman and child joined hand in hand. Surrounding the figures are clouds of words in different languages. I recognize something in a few of them, and they all seem to say ‘Peace’.

“ ‘Peace’… at what cost?” I say under my breath. I notice a small, white flower growing in a crack in the wall. I allow a tiny grin to spread on my lips and pick the flower. I study its delicate petals until I hear a soft giggle coming from behind me. I turn and ready my gun in an instant. I had startled a little girl, who managed to elude my gaze during my patrol. She must’ve been following me for a while. She was taking cover behind a large archway but kept peeking out at me. I sling the rifle back over my shoulder and raise my hands up.

“It’s okay, don’t be scared.” She inches slowly out of from behind the arch. I continue, “I won’t hurt you.” I picked the flower up from the ground and held it up for her to see. She walks towards me. Eventually, she gets close enough to take the flower from my hand. She has large emerald eyes and curly hair.

“See?” I say with a smile, “Nothing to be afraid of.” She smiles back at me and smelled the flower. She had a dimple in her left cheek.

“What’s your name, child?” I ask. She just keeps smiling and scampers off. I stand back up and watch her until she’s out of my sight. Before I can turn my back, I hear her screaming followed by the sound of rapid gunfire.

I snap back and run in the direction of the gunfire and scream. People begin to scatter. I weave between people as quietly as I can until I come upon a clearing where a group of Hamas soldiers is surrounding the girl’s body. She must’ve fallen forward after being shot. I can’t see her face, but all I can think of are her beautiful green eyes being blanketed by the same cold-blooded demise that befell my family. The flower is still in her tiny hand and a growing maroon pool surrounded her head. My heart starts to sink, but I still listen to the Hamas. They were speaking in a Farsi dialect I can’t really understand. From what I manage to catch, they don’t seem to notice me, but they start moving in my direction. I sneak away and start scanning my perimeter. Everything seems too quiet. I have my rifle at the ready and pie every corner. It seems as though everyone has cleared the area. My rifle gets knocked out of my hands and a fist tries to punch me in the torso. I block the incoming fist with my elbow and throw my assailant to the ground. It’s one of the Hamas soldiers.

“Infidel!” he shouts and aims his Type 56 at me. I knock it from his hands and grapple at his shoulders to force him back down. I feel a sharp hit in my lower torso while I pull him to the ground. I look down and see the hilt of a knife sticking out my flak jacket. I punch him in the temple, withdraw the knife from my wound and cut his throat. The cut begins running red in seconds. He tries gasping for air and holding his throat to slow his bleeding. I hold my force with one hand on his shoulder and stab him dead center in the chest with my other hand. I pick up my gun and run for cover.

My wound bleeds more heavily with every step I take. I don’t hear any more of the Hamas. I take cover inside an empty house. The floor is dusty and the windows are boarded shut. I still make sure I’m alone in the single floor. I back up against a wall and slide down to the floor. As I take off my jacket, I notice a wet, black stain where the knife entered. The knife was serrated, so the wound is jagged around the edges. I try slowing the bleeding with my shemagh, to little avail. Blood covers most of my stomach and lower body already. I feel chills dancing through my limbs. Breathing feels more and more like labor. My eyes flutter shut.

“Dear God…” I whisper out. I feel my death approaching. The cold soon envelops my entire body. The blood running out of me doesn’t even feel warm anymore. My breathing and heartbeat are becoming increasingly slower and slower in duo. Despite all of the cold I’m encumbered in, I feel a sudden warmth on my cheek. I open my eyes and see a tall, slender woman with amber eyes standing before me.

“Betje,” I choke out. I try to sit up, but pain crashes through my torso and I laid back against the wall.

“Be still, my love,” she says. Her voice is just as melodic as I remember.

“Baba,” I hear my daughter’s voice sing. I look to my side and see her standing next to me.

“Mari?” I say softly. Her eyes are as verdant as ever. I look back and forth from Betje to Mari. “Is this a dream?” I ask.

“No, Tiqvah. God is giving you peace,” Betje says.

“We came back for you, baba,” Mari adds. I hold her closer to me. “Of course you did, neshama.” Betje sits down on my opposite side and I wrap my arms around the both of them, “You came back for me.” Betje rests her head on my shoulder and Mari rests hers on my chest. Mari begins singing.

“Hashivenu, hashivenu adonai, elecha,”

“Venashuva, venashuva,” Betje continued.

“Chadesh, chadesh, yameinuke ke dem,” I finish the hymn with my last breath.