It was a fine September morning. The otherwise populated areas of Khyber Pass seemed deserted though. The most obvious reason was the curfew imposed to maintain the law and order situation in an area where anti government groups were defying the law of the land. The paramilitary forces were tasked to take them out in terrains that were rugged yet serene and beautiful. One of the state's paramilitary force convoys was out patrolling this militancy infested region of Pakistan. The commander of this force was himself heading the armed patrol consisting of several armed soldiers sitting in many vehicles. He was deeply critical of the Pakistani government's tactics inherited from their colonial past, which called upon him to destroy all tribes and their villages who sided with the miscreants. He was operating in his own country rather than an enemy's turf and this motivated him to exercise maximum constraint in order not to hurt the civilians. He was a proud fourth generation soldier coming from a long line of warriors and had a deep rooted connection with his troops who he used to love and lead from the front. The feeling was mutual like any good military outfit who adore their leader in battle. The commander had successfully completed six months of his uneventful tenure in the troubled terrains following a policy of avoiding unnecessary violence.
The convoy was crossing a village where the commander saw an elderly man lying on the road side while couple of very young children were waving at the convoy to stop. The commander ordered the convoy to stop. However as soon as he dismounted from his command vehicle to his horror a sudden explosion knocked him off his feet. He later learnt that it was an Improvised Explosive Device (IED). The explosion was followed by multidimensional fire ambush on his convoy. A perfect ambush. The old man lying on the road side and the children ran towards the nearest house. It took a few moments for the commander to regain his senses and register what had just happened. He witnessed completely torn bodies of four of his personal squad and the head of his command vehicle's driver lying on the road side. He noticed that he was also bleeding from his forehead and arms. His state of shock was stopping him from crying out loud. Instead he started firing at the attackers with his Kalashnikov while standing right in the middle of the road. He began shouting out the most obscene profanities directed at the attackers in a bid to suppress the need to cry out loud. The pain and anguish were too much for him to bear silently. Bullets were flying and tearing past him but he stood there fueled by adrenaline, bleeding and on every occasion narrowly escaping the bullets targeted at him one way or the other. His troops were observing his insane bravery and recognized the danger he had thrust himself into. In a bid to save his life the troops regained control and pushed towards the attackers in a state of frenzy and hysteria. The attackers like any typical gorilla styled ambush broke contact and started escaping. The government troops were fearless provoked by the attack, fueled by their anger and led by a leader who had such lack of regard even for own life. Their bravery succeeded in capturing two attackers alive. The remaining ten to fifteen militants escaped the scene.
.Now was the moment of awkward awakening for the commander. On one side lay the dead comrades he loved so much and on the other side two militants who were responsible for their deaths. The age old traditions of the Khyber Rifle's Pukhtoon troops demanded blood for blood. The commander was a man of principles yet followed traditions and now was the true test of his loyalties and morals after regaining some clarity on the situation. Time was short as the reinforcements were on their way along with the media and journalists and his men were demanding blood for blood. Suddenly the two young boys who stopped the convoy earlier appeared and began to beg mercy for their father who was one of the arrested militants. The troops searched the nearby house and found the old man as well who not surprisingly was the father of the arrested militant. The situation and the imminent decision that he had to make was becoming unbearable for the commander and was taking a toll on his already wounded and fragile state of being and mind. His men were desperate for blood and he needed to make the excruciating decision of consciously giving a life or death sentence to another human being. The tribesmen of the slain soldiers were in no mood to spare the militants lives and the distant sound of the reinforcement helicopters could be heard slowly getting louder. The two children were continuously crying, imploring for their father's life. " I should have died in the ambush" the commander thought. So distressing was that moment that he felt better off dead to be able to avoid the torment of making the decision. It was a battle between abiding by the traditions that were so rooted into his reality and his conscience. The faces of his own two sons suddenly flashed before him in his mind but the decision he had to make was based on being the father and leader of hundreds of his troops as well as those who believed in his leadership. These men were the ones who were ready to lay their lives down for him on one of his commands. They demanded nothing else but revenge for their fallen comrades. The sheer reality of the battlefield struck him hard at that very moment. The glory and the glamour all pushed to one side only to reveal the bitter reality of it all. This was what it all boiled down to, pain, destruction and death . His mind and heart were in constant battle but the decision had to be made.
The commander asked for the boys to be removed from the scene. They began screaming and crying while being forced to move away from the site. Everything around him felt surreal like a obscure dream. Despite the hysteria around him he took deep look at the unidentifiable dead bodies of his mates. He allowed the grief and anger he felt inside him to dictate his next action and turned around to fire a shot directly in the head of one of the militants. His principles and compassion still didn't let him shoot the father of the young boys. At that point the senior sergeant took over. The sergeant's anger and thirst for revenge was even more understandable as he was the cousin of one of the slain soldiers. He fired a burst of AK-47 in the chest of the second militant and his elderly father. At that very moment the commander collapsed. Was it due to the loss of blood caused by his wounds? or was it due to deeper wound that would leave more permanent scars on his soul? Only he knew the answer. At that point The reinforcements came and secured the scene.
The commander was evacuated along with the killed soldiers. The helicopter rose creating noise and a small dust storm in its midst. He looked around and noticed the bodies of the three dead militants lying on the roadside while the two young boys were hysterically crying over their father and grandfather's dead bodies. Their screams pierced his ears and soul through the noise of the helicopter. The elder of the two boys looked up and saw him staring down at him. The commander looked into his eyes and recoiled in horror. The pain, hatred and disgust he saw inside them gave dawn to an epiphany inside him and he shuddered in fright. He had just witnessed the birth of a terrorist...
The convoy was crossing a village where the commander saw an elderly man lying on the road side while couple of very young children were waving at the convoy to stop. The commander ordered the convoy to stop. However as soon as he dismounted from his command vehicle to his horror a sudden explosion knocked him off his feet. He later learnt that it was an Improvised Explosive Device (IED). The explosion was followed by multidimensional fire ambush on his convoy. A perfect ambush. The old man lying on the road side and the children ran towards the nearest house. It took a few moments for the commander to regain his senses and register what had just happened. He witnessed completely torn bodies of four of his personal squad and the head of his command vehicle's driver lying on the road side. He noticed that he was also bleeding from his forehead and arms. His state of shock was stopping him from crying out loud. Instead he started firing at the attackers with his Kalashnikov while standing right in the middle of the road. He began shouting out the most obscene profanities directed at the attackers in a bid to suppress the need to cry out loud. The pain and anguish were too much for him to bear silently. Bullets were flying and tearing past him but he stood there fueled by adrenaline, bleeding and on every occasion narrowly escaping the bullets targeted at him one way or the other. His troops were observing his insane bravery and recognized the danger he had thrust himself into. In a bid to save his life the troops regained control and pushed towards the attackers in a state of frenzy and hysteria. The attackers like any typical gorilla styled ambush broke contact and started escaping. The government troops were fearless provoked by the attack, fueled by their anger and led by a leader who had such lack of regard even for own life. Their bravery succeeded in capturing two attackers alive. The remaining ten to fifteen militants escaped the scene.
.Now was the moment of awkward awakening for the commander. On one side lay the dead comrades he loved so much and on the other side two militants who were responsible for their deaths. The age old traditions of the Khyber Rifle's Pukhtoon troops demanded blood for blood. The commander was a man of principles yet followed traditions and now was the true test of his loyalties and morals after regaining some clarity on the situation. Time was short as the reinforcements were on their way along with the media and journalists and his men were demanding blood for blood. Suddenly the two young boys who stopped the convoy earlier appeared and began to beg mercy for their father who was one of the arrested militants. The troops searched the nearby house and found the old man as well who not surprisingly was the father of the arrested militant. The situation and the imminent decision that he had to make was becoming unbearable for the commander and was taking a toll on his already wounded and fragile state of being and mind. His men were desperate for blood and he needed to make the excruciating decision of consciously giving a life or death sentence to another human being. The tribesmen of the slain soldiers were in no mood to spare the militants lives and the distant sound of the reinforcement helicopters could be heard slowly getting louder. The two children were continuously crying, imploring for their father's life. " I should have died in the ambush" the commander thought. So distressing was that moment that he felt better off dead to be able to avoid the torment of making the decision. It was a battle between abiding by the traditions that were so rooted into his reality and his conscience. The faces of his own two sons suddenly flashed before him in his mind but the decision he had to make was based on being the father and leader of hundreds of his troops as well as those who believed in his leadership. These men were the ones who were ready to lay their lives down for him on one of his commands. They demanded nothing else but revenge for their fallen comrades. The sheer reality of the battlefield struck him hard at that very moment. The glory and the glamour all pushed to one side only to reveal the bitter reality of it all. This was what it all boiled down to, pain, destruction and death . His mind and heart were in constant battle but the decision had to be made.
The commander asked for the boys to be removed from the scene. They began screaming and crying while being forced to move away from the site. Everything around him felt surreal like a obscure dream. Despite the hysteria around him he took deep look at the unidentifiable dead bodies of his mates. He allowed the grief and anger he felt inside him to dictate his next action and turned around to fire a shot directly in the head of one of the militants. His principles and compassion still didn't let him shoot the father of the young boys. At that point the senior sergeant took over. The sergeant's anger and thirst for revenge was even more understandable as he was the cousin of one of the slain soldiers. He fired a burst of AK-47 in the chest of the second militant and his elderly father. At that very moment the commander collapsed. Was it due to the loss of blood caused by his wounds? or was it due to deeper wound that would leave more permanent scars on his soul? Only he knew the answer. At that point The reinforcements came and secured the scene.
The commander was evacuated along with the killed soldiers. The helicopter rose creating noise and a small dust storm in its midst. He looked around and noticed the bodies of the three dead militants lying on the roadside while the two young boys were hysterically crying over their father and grandfather's dead bodies. Their screams pierced his ears and soul through the noise of the helicopter. The elder of the two boys looked up and saw him staring down at him. The commander looked into his eyes and recoiled in horror. The pain, hatred and disgust he saw inside them gave dawn to an epiphany inside him and he shuddered in fright. He had just witnessed the birth of a terrorist...
Similarly, many anti-Pakistan and anti-America teenage terrorists, sucide bombers are born, when they watch Americans drones destroying their homes. A Jihadi's son in Kashmir become a Mujahid, but we can't say the same thing about Hamas because Hamas use kids as shields and watch them dying, there the case is opposite.
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