''So, what are we going to do now?'', I asked my commander.
We are both veterans, after years of hard fighting in this
accursed country, and aren't used to being lost. The
commander seemed quite sure of himself, although I - not a
rookie myself - knew better. I also know my commander - or,
as they say, my commanding officer - better than that.
''We are doing just fine'', he said in the calmness that was
so familiar and usually encouraging, but now it was a bit
unnerving. Could it be that my commander went mad, in his
silent way?
''We killed them by the hundreds, sir, and we still can't
see any sign to a rescue team, sir'', I said in the formal
military way I spoke when I wanted to hide my emotions -
usually fear. I knew better than to mention more of our dire
situation - about 3 magazines to each one of us, Rico
without conscious, Sivan is losing it very fast and Yariv -
well if he's not a gonner already, he will be soon.
''Then they'll have to lose few hundreds more'', he answered
coolly. I looked at the man - bigger than life itself, he
seemed to me. Memories of the time the team was assembled
flashed in my mind suddenly... he chose his men with care,
the best and brightest. After two weeks, we worshiped him
like a god. Right then the radio came to life.
''Martir thi'... om, d' you re'd me, o'er'', came the
blessed voice from the radio. My commander didn't smile,
didn't even flinched, when he took the radio and answered.
Damn he's cold, I thought to myself - all I want to do now
is to shout out to whatever being that directs things from
up there and thank it.
''Com, this is martir, I read you, do you read me, over'',
he answered in his cool voice. I was so eager for a reply it
seemed to me like days before the blessed voice spoke over
the ether waves again.
''Martir this is 'om, we are he'ing you' 'ey, have you
changed your posi' since your las' repo', over''. Why can't
radios work like every other machine. And then I saw I'll
need to check another machine's credibility soon.
''Sir'', I said quietly, and saw that he already was in
motion, aiming at the shadow that moved toward our hiding
place. He signaled not to act until ordered to.  Damn cold
motherfucker.
He shot twice, his silencer working perfectly to conceal us
not only from noise but also from light or dust that might
arouse from the firing. The shadow fell.
''Com this is Martir, we are surrounded by hostiles and
can't make it to safer ground, need immediate rescue,
over.'' He whispered. I wouldn't have whispered, I would
have shout like a madman, screaming on them to send the
whole fucking air force to kick the shit out of the fucking
''hostiles'' and then the whole fucking armored forces they
have. That's why I'm not the commander, I guess.
''Martir this is Bravo leader, we are heading your way from
home, and have some heavy load to drop, point your laser to
where you want us to unload and the way will be cleared for
the blackies, over''.
''Pilots'', I heard him mutter, and he took his gun, checked
his equipment, made sure his laser pointer is working and
made me commander while he's gone. I can't say I was
surprised - there was no other able soldier to command on,
not to mention to be in charge.
He disappeared into the smoke and the smoldering land, with
no fear in his eyes, with no letter of goodbye to his
beloveds - he just went there and left me wondering what
will I do if he's gone. I decided to see what's with the
rest of the team.
''Sivan'', I asked, knowing she was the only team member who
might answer me. A low whisper answered me from the darkness
of our shelter. Sivan the beautiful - lady, Yariv used to
call her, set there, her face full of blood, which was
smeared all over her broken body. They all got that
artillery pretty bad, but Yariv got it the worst - he jumped
over Sivan, and sheltered her from that inferno. I think he
has about five hundreds of little metal pieces inside his
body. But Sivan is still alive, and I went to check on Yariv
and Rico - both had pulse, not conscious though, and Yariv's
was so weak I had to check twice.
I heard shooting, then silence and then more shooting.
Arabic sounded in the air, and then I heard bodies hit the
ground. I smiled - that was my commanding officer out there,
not god, I knew now. Oh no, he was way too far from heaven
to be god.  The angel of death would be more appropriate.
Cold of heart, lethal and accurate, and so calculating it
was hard to think he can react so fast as he does. But he
was the fastest man I've ever seen.
Then there was silence, and I heard it - the voice of the
21st century cavalry - F16. Our good F16s, four of them,
came down from the skies to the call of the angel of death.
I went out to watch, and saw the scene I would not forget to
the end of my days.
My commander stood there on the end of the cliff, alone,
colder then the biting wind around him. His rescue cloak
flies around him like black wings, he looked at the world
through the night vision scope, so his eyes looked sickly
green to me. He pointed towards several spots in the region
below, and everywhere he pointed, Armageddon was there.
Body parts mingled with the vehicles they were on or beside
just a moment before, the road disappeared beneath rocks and
dust, blown apart by what seemed like the whim of that dark
angel that stood on the end of that cliff.
I wanted it to stop, I don't need revenge, I wanted to
scream, but I had not the strength. It seemed like a
nightmare, where you see horrible things happen and can't
interfere. When he was done he seemed to fly towards me,
taking off his cloak and scope on the way, and becoming
human again.
''They are coming to save us'', he said coolly, as if
nothing happened - not happiness, no shock, no sadness, no
surprise, nothing stained his calmness. Only a smile, a
quiet and cool smile, so calculated it was, so...
I simply stood there as the black hawks came and took us. I
knew they picked me up, I knew we were out of there, I knew
Sivan tried to talk to me, I knew the doctor tried to save
Yariv and Rico - but I didn't care. No, that's not right,
they are my friends, more than that - they are my comrades.
No, it's not that I didn't care, I couldn't care.

I saw the angel of death that day - and he was smiling at
me.