July 8th, 2004, Afghanistan

“Where is he?” The man said nothing. “I said where the hell is he?” The man said nothing, but he smiled. “Up your ass,” the man questioning him, Jayson, grabbed him by the trachea and squeezed tight enough to see his eyes nearly pop out of his face. He let go and slammed him against the cold, brick wall. “I’d rather die than tell you anything.” Jayson pulled out his pistol and held it in front of him. “Fine, I’ll kill you right now.” He loaded the gun and the slap of a magazine in place echoed against the wall. “You won’t. You Americans have no balls. That’s why we conquer and you don’t.” He laughed as blood came out of his mouth. “Tell me where he is. Or I’ll blow your fuc-“ he spat in the Jayson’s face with his warm, smelly saliva that reeked of beef and bad odor. He dropped his gun and grabbed the man. “You want to spit on me? Huh? You want to spit on me? I’ll show you what I can do to you.” He squeezed his trachea with all his strength. “See? This is how real men fight; with their cold, bare hands.” Jayson clenched his teeth and bit down on his lip and drew blood. “Okay Jayson, stop. Keep him alive so we can get Alriki’s location.” Said Arie, one of his partners on the operation. He finally let go and they were both inhaling and exhaling, exhausted. “He’s not gonna tell us, Are. He’s just like the rest of them; lousy and useless. A waste of flesh and a waste of my time.” Arie shook his head. “No, if he won’t tell us, you know what’s next.” Jayson knew. It was torture. In this world, in this job, one cuts down the stream not across the river. Now we can save you. If you tell us…but they knew. Once that happened, there was no saving. Not here. Arie and Jayson grabbed him and held him down. “Tell us where Alriki is and we will spare you.” Lie. They knew. The man spat on Jayson again, and he punched him in his face, drawing blood from his nose. “Never! I’ll never tell you anything!” he started to laugh. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. You’ll be chasing after us until your children’s children die on this soil.” He laughed and laughed, having one last victory feeling.

June 29th, 2014, United States of America

“New extremist rebel group in which they call themselves Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, or ISIS operating in Afghanistan, claiming their interpretation of Islam is the way all Muslims should follow…..” Jayson turned off the television and rested his fingers on his chin. Now, thirty-nine, after fifteen years served in the United States Special Forces, history repeats itself because the history never got defeated. Now faced again with the same diplomatic issues, actually the same war. You’ll be chasing after us until your children’s children die on this soil, Jayson thought to himself. The waste of flesh, the waste of my time, had been right. “Honey, you okay?” His wife called from the kitchen. “Yeah, baby. Just the same old.” He said, reassuring her. “Warren called, honey. He said he misses you. He said he was about to land in Afghanistan.” Warren, my son, my boy. He is fighting the same war I had fought. If there is one thing that’s right, that I know, is a young man fight an old man’s war. “I’ll be waiting for his next phone call…. and my grandson’s, too.”

The End