text: \_\_\_\_\_\_The middle-eastern sand, unlike the one found on St. Petersburg's golden shore, feels like dust and rust; It coated the desert-camouflaged chassis of our BTRs and stuck to our uniforms and visors, making it very uncomfortable to move around and sweat beneath the blinding February sun. &#x200B; *It wasn't a bad assignment.* &#x200B; \_\_\_\_\_\_The children from a nearby village would often come to us, to trade their hand-made trinkets and fresh tea for some of our MREs and candy. I've lost count on how many bracelets I brought back each day...a dozen, perhaps? They were done by a small and beautiful girl with sleek and long black hair that reached to her waist, whose entrancing emerald eyes made you feel naked ─ as if she could stare directly at your soul. I never asked her name, but often called her "*Veselaya*" in my mind since she would irradiate child-like innocence and an endless sense of wonder for the strange men in their metal beasts. She wasn't shy, unlike some of the other young children, despite being around 7 or 8, she would ask us a million questions without stopping to breathe: "Where are you from? Why do you wear glass on your eyes? What is that on your head? Do you have any chocolate...?" I couldn't answer with my limited arabic, afterall I only knew how to say "Cigarette?" and "Stop or die", but I could understand her very well. \_\_\_\_\_\_Halfway through the month, yet again under the scorching sun waiting for an allied unit to pass through, we patrolled around our BTRs’ defensive positions near the village when I looked at my watch, it’s cracked surface showed the third hour of the afternoon, we began to wait for the *deti* to arrive. For the past two or three weeks, they would visit us, eager to show us what goods they had on their tiny hands, what shiny piece of metal had they scavenged from the nearby ruins or what colorful drawing they had made ─after countless days doing nothing but mindless training, paperwork, repairs and waiting around for orders; this was *the* most awaited moment of the day. \_\_\_\_\_\_The Syrian veteran troops alongside us, despite being cooperative and decent fighters, even though they were under command of a police captain, often chose not to look at them, deploying forced smiles and imaginary urgent tasks to attend to rather than being near them. I know why. They often talked about rebuilding their homes and reuniting with their loved ones, the peak of their aspirations was surprisingly ...known to me ─ they wanted no more than to return home, sit in front of the TV, watch football and drink tea. &#x200B; *I understood them, to a lesser degree, sure, but I did nonetheless.* &#x200B; \_\_\_\_\_\_*Veselaya* wasn’t amongst the few dozen *deti* that were showing us their merchandise. No, she was far behind them, at the edge of the village. Even at 300 metres, I could see a slight glimmer on her emerald eyes, she was quietly sobbing. Holding a shoebox. I ordered my cousin to check on her through the scope of his rifle, feeling a knot being tied around my neck. She was *clutching* the shoebox. Strands of her black hair stuck to the tears that descended her bruised cheeks; then she began to walk towards us. Our Captain ordered us to raise our rifles and the Syrian troops began to shout at the children upon seeing her, ordering them to get behind our armor. ***Amidst an open field of desert soil*** ***A small frightened child held on*** ***To a small shoebox with a crying soul*** ***Quietly begging the strange men from distant lands*** ***To protect her from the evil old men that stood behind*** \_\_\_\_\_\_I shouted at her, over and over, the only phrase I knew in her tongue with nothing but fear and begged to God. \_\_\_\_\_\_My cousin trained his sights onto her chest, so did all the men around me, but she kept on walking through the dust-like sand, leaving a trail of tears and hopeless fear. ***I have always been a good soldat, but that day I cried.*** ***I dropped my rifle and broke through the defensive line,*** ***my vision blurred by a primal need to save the young.*** ***I saw no colors and felt no more*** ***For her I felt nothing but love*** \_\_\_\_\_\_I threw the shoebox up in the air behind me and threw my entire self onto her as the wires strapped to her chest pulled the pins on the hidden grenades. ***I held my breath and watched as my visor drowned,*** ***feeling lost in her emerald eyes.