President Zihad Rehman Gulsultur
North Wing Briefing Room
Presidential Palace
"So far injuries from the military-involved shooting in Goyija Square have been reported as minor. However, the death of 21-year-old Kadriye Zerdeşt is still a contentious issue of speculation..."
"Turn that off please," I demanded in a rough and impatient tone. The sound of the news report was not even remotely helping the situation for my administration and I. I wished us to rather discuss this matter without the twisted lies and half-truths filling the room. Looking over a small table, I saw my Vice President, Xalis Barzanji, Chief of Staff Mihemed Ajarî, and Majority Leader of the Assembly, Goran Şaylanli. These were the three men I was planning to bring with me into the fires of civil unrest as my brothers in arms. But first, we needed to formulate a plan of attack. I looked to Mihemed first as he fiddled with some paper, most likely reports about the military clashes the other day.
"General Ajarî, could you inform the group about the current military situation in the country please," I asked plainly. He sighed slightly and started to speak.
"Well, Mr. President, currently only about 1/10th of our reserve forces are actively protecting key soft targets in violence prone areas, mostly located here, in the capital. Given the fact that we've seen an increase in demonstrations in communities outside the capital we've been putting troops in the cities more heavily as per your request of a military response. So far we've only reported 2 injuries and a total of 56 5.45x39mm rounds, 1 7.62x55 round, and 234 Tear Gas Canisters have been used since protests began. Currently the situation within the military seems as though it is going well and we will most likely be able to continue operations as long as protesters are out." He said in an almost stereotypical sternest that general have been famous for. His last sentence felt forced, however - it felt as though... he really did mean what he said. I let it slide however, wasn't worth the excess discussion.
"Mr. Şaylanli, how does the assembly look like to you?" I said, slowly shifting my attention to the stout and somewhat pudgy old man.
"We're handling the situation fairly well. The opposition assemblymen are getting uppity as support for a unified opposition grows. Mr. Ghazî is building up a diverse coalition but I doubt it'll be able to accomplish much outside of causing a ruckus in the assembly." He said with a guttural, baritone voice.
"Good..." I commented, almost subtly.
"General: keep an eye on the protesters and the opposition assemblymen. We may need to take drastic action if things get far too out of hand. Mr. Şaylanli, I would enjoy it if you kept me informed on anyone who might be a threat to the stability of the state." The sounds of nervous agreement filled the air as they nodded and assured me they'd do as such. Ajanî and Şaylanli stood and filled out of the room with a respectful silence leaving just me and the Vice President in the room.
"I have doubts about the General," I remarked, after a long silence. Xalis' eyes flicked up at me.
"Why is that, sir?" He inquired, leaning back in his chair which sat just across from me.
"I don't think I can call upon him when I truly need his assistance. He's a weak-willed man. I don't think he has it in him to go through with doing what is needed..." Xalis was quiet for a moment - he seemed to have to briefly ponder the issue before replying.
"If that's the case, we can't have him in such a position. If he is too faulty when he is most needed, then I simply don't see a reason to keep him." he declared, with a more cynical sound in his cadence.
"But what would we do with him?"
"Last I heard the 8th army in the far east needs a logistics commander..."
Corporal Awat Birousk
Guard Zone 3
Goyija Square, Azabajar
The sky was a dim blue, the kind of color they speak of in children’s books. It held a certain grave to it. The sun rained heat down upon us like a waterfall of cosmic energy. The air filled with the indistinguishable sounds of thousands of people chanting, screaming, and hollering. I looked down over the edge of the rail to look at the calm river waters as they gently flowed downcurrent. It took with it small chunks of organic matter, animals, and similar things. I gripped my TŞ-84 loosely as it hung off my shoulder by the fabric rifle sling.
The situation seemed so surreal in a way. The peace of the sky and the water contrasted with the controlled anarchy of the square. My group held control of the bridge that lead across the river Şînkesk and into the financial district of the city. The bridge spanned east to west, and on both sides we had masses of protesters. At one point we held control of the whole bridge, but now we only held a 3rd of the central bridge attempting to keep people from flooding Goyija square.
I didn't really have much of an opinion on this situation though. I'm only here to get the paycheck so my mother and father could eat this week. The whole situation just seemed absurd. The corrupt elite stayed nice and cozy in their high towers and the people marched to protest against them, and screamed disapproval towards the people who were too high up on the ladder to hear their screams.
"Birousk! We need your help here," barked a familiar voice. It was my commanding officer, Sergeant Faraj.
"Yes sergeant?" I replied looking back to see the tall, barrel chest man standing a couple meters for my position.
"Come on, we've got an issue with one of the engines on the truck," he told me. Seems like we're nothing more than glorified mechanics at this point. Working with 30 year old equipment wasn't usually the best thing in the world especially if you’re a lowly infantryman like myself.
"Weren't we supposed to get some new shit from that arms deal with Zaihan?" mused another soldier as I stepped towards the group to look at the corroded block of metal that formed the engine.
"We were, but last I heard the Defense Ministry pulled out of the deal saying they wanted to look for locally produced solution," replied the Sergeant as he took a wrench and started to disassemble the from cover that was shielding the engine.
"Is that why we've got all these fucking old men rifles too?" asked by another soldier as he held up a Zaihanese B2 Rifle. The outwardly look of the large gun showed years of use and wear. Probably an older rifle sold to us to get rid of the unwanted surplus. In comparison my rifle was a fairly new rifle from the 90's. A knock off of the Fukazawa rifle from Akitsukuni with really the only noticeable difference being the butt stock. A long, thick, and hollow curved metal rod with a concave triangle acting as the buttplate. Nothing special really in the grand scheme of things.
As the initial work on the truck started I heard a strange pop sound. I ignored it at first, as it seemed distant and not really something worth worrying about. The initial pop, however, gave way to a few more loud bangs as the crowd from the Goyija square section of the bridge started to get louder. I made a quick turn to face them, trying to see what the commotion was about. As I did so the sound of something smashing against the metal door of the truck cried out. I looked down to see a large, smooth rock on the ground near me. I looked up again and could see the motions of people twirling slings over their heads and hurling rocks our way.
"They’re throwing rocks again," I observed as I moved behind the truck to avoid getting pelted.
"You seem awfully relaxed about it, corporal," remarked the Sergeant as I reached into the back of the truck and pulled out some hard plastic shields for us to use.
"It was a little scary the first few times they did it but now it's just sort of annoying," I said with a slight laugh.
"Well, be careful guys, we don't want another shooting like we had a few days ago, alright," Faraj said to us as he passed out the clear plastic shields.
"Will be sure to, sir," I said as I threaded my arm through the tight nylon hoop brace and grabbed onto the stiff metal handle of the shield. I went up with my section and we created a protective line with the shields. A column of men kneeling down shield straight. Another column behind us was standing straight up and had their shields resting on the top of ours at a 45° angle. The front row also had their guns out, pointing out of the small gaps between the shields.
I was a front column man. Looking through the clear plastic shield you could simply see a massive wall of bodies. It was like staring at a brick wall; it was powerful and strong. I gripped tighter to my shield handle and looked forward as the human mass slowly marched forward. The pops and smacks of rocks hitting my shield.
I grew ever more fearful at the slow mass closed in on us. How would we defend against these people? What would we even do if they broke through our position?
“Ah damnit!” Yelped a squeaky youthful voice. I looked to my left where the exurb came from. One of the younger soldiers looked as though a rock has found its way through the shield wall. His quick distraction to address the pain opened a hole in our defense and they took their chance. They started to pelt the young man with a volley of rocks directed at him. The front row of protesters rushed our position hurling stones with slings.
“Reposition yourself Sajjadi.” Yelled one of the NCO’s in command of the defensive line as the popping noise of a tear gas gun going off. But just as he did the sound of glass shattering and the sound of fire igniting could be heard. I looked over again to the same position and saw that the same young soldier who was being pelted with rocks was now engulfed in a flame.
“Fucking petrol bombs!” Screamed the young soldier as he ran behind our line and wand padded our. A heard the pop of a bottle breaking against my shield. Looking through the shield all I could see was a ferrous fire clinging to my shield. As it subsided I could see figures closing in on our position. Panic took over, I attempted to pull the trigger but was stuck on safety. I fumbled around the safety switch and my trembling thumb put the rifle in firing mode.
1… 2… 3… I counted in my head as I pulled the trigger. The crowd quickly ran back to its position, keeping me safe for the moment. The flames from the petrol bombs were still going strong just ahead of our position, thankfully the petrol bomb strike that broke through our initial line was snuffed pretty easily.
“Mother fucker.” Muttered the sergeant under his breath
“We’ve got a civilian casualty!” He yelled out. At first it didn't really click, I looked into the crowed to see nothing I would call a casualty, but as tear gas canisters were fired deeper onto the bridge and the crowed backed up even more the sight became so much clearer. I saw the gas wisp off of what I could now see to be a body. But… But he was so far back. When I fired my rifle I somehow missed the degenerated in my face and instead hit a bystander who looked only to have sign in is hand. We moved up on the position of the body. Just me and the sergeant. He thumped me on the shoulder to get me to move with him.
When we got to where the body I simply was able to hold it in, I threw up right there. Even with my stomach voided I still felt the pile of guilt that put weight on my body, twisted my guts, and voided any clear thoughts from my head. The kid was obviously dead, looked like he had been hit in the lungs.
“How on god's earth do you fuck up this badly?” Asked my sergeant holding by a fiery rage.
“Sir I don't know. I panicked and fired at the people charging our position sir.” I said in a meek tone as I tried to collect my thoughts.
“Well you fucking missed them. You’ve single handedly made our job ten times harder because you couldn't keep it together!” He said in a hushed scream. He reached out and grabbed me by the collar of my uniform pulling me closer to him.
“Not only is this kids blood on your hands, but so is the blood of any of our soldiers if they die here. You’ve fucked us… Do you understand that!” He yelled, not withholding anything. I just looked into the sergeant's eyes. He was right after all, there was no point in saying anything either. Eventually he let go of me and walked off. I simply looked down at his corpse, looking at the small handheld camcorder he still held in his hand, now covered in his own blood. I reached into my pocket and pulled out some cigarettes and a lighter. Bringing the cigarette to my mouth I was still trembling and even had difficulty lighting the cigarette. As I did so the voice of a distraught woman called out They killed him, they killed him she repeated. Through it all I couldn't collect a single thought. My mind was awash with theories on what this man's death would do to the community and to his family. I felt like a monster for taking this mans life, however I also had a part of me that felt as though this was necessary… Better a punk kid right? At least that's how I wanted to justify it to myself.
Ayşe Bateyî
Goyija Square, Azabajar
“Husayn? Where'd you go?” I yelled out into the crowed. I looked through the masses of people. The people were always in flux, shifting like the waters in the ocean or the sands of the desert. The sounds of the people was sort of a chorus of multiple tones with whispers from friends who stood next to each other and others screaming and hollering in protest of the government.
I was only here because Husayn drug me here. He wanted to see what was going on with the whole protest. And then the military came in and shut us into the square. It been a week since I last took a shower and we were stuck eating just some garbage arrest food and MRE’s served by local cart and the military respectively. I was wearing my Hijab for the first time since Eid al-Fitr only really to cover the rats nest that was my hair at this moment.
“God damn guys, shits going down at the bridge.” I heard a person say from a considerable distance. It caught my attention almost immediately, Husayn was always someone who likes to be in the middle of the action. He also wanted to catch some of the protests on his camera. He was probably heading that way to go and try to do his freelance video journalism bullshit.
“Democracy not Kleptocracy” chanted the crowd with ruthless vigor. I pushed my way through the masses of people that have been clogged in the square for over a week now. At first I just weaved in and out between groups of people, but as I got closer to the bridge however I had to start forcefully moving people out of my way.
“Husayn? Husayn where are you?” I said in the crowd of people. As I moved up closer to the bridge I could make out a man with a camera. But with the mass of people I still couldn't truly make out who it was.
“Husayn Celaliyan! Is that you?” I yelled out into the crowd hoping that if it was him he'd respond to his full name. The man turned around and I could see his face, I smiled upon seeing the man's face. It was Husayn! I pushed my way through the last bit of the crowed to meet up with him.
“What are you doing here?” He asked me in a somewhat worried tone.
“I'm here looking for you” I responded
“Look you need to get back. Some of the guys here in the crowd have been getting pretty wild and the military looks like it's going to get ready to clear this area” just as he said string of popping noises came from the military held section of the bridge. Arches of pale yellow clouds loomed overhead and landed in the crowd.
“Tear gas” yelled several people, some in the back panicked and fell back away from the bridge but this front phalanx stayed stiff. Some of the more degenerate looking members of the group pulled out goggles and dust masks to keep the gas from burning their lungs and eyes. The group compacted itself and I found myself stuck in this group alongside Husayn coughs up in a mass of bodies and gas. My eyes started to uncontrollably produce tears at an unstoppable rate and my lungs started to burn. I took my Hijab and wrapped it around my mouth and nose to try and keep the gas from getting into my respiratory system. By my eyes were still pouring out tears in response to the tear gas. I felt hands on my face, someone was whiling away at the tears, it was Hussyn who had put on a pair of swimming goggles and a dust mask. He waved away at the gas in the air and and placed a pair of goggles in my hands which I quickly placed over my eyes.
“Keep back, things are going to get worse alright” he said to me as the sounds of breaking glass and and intensified screaming and yelling filled the air around us. I could hear some of the people on the military side of the yelling about Petrol Bombs. I could see the smoke from the fires but not anyone throwing petrol bombs. Husayn was face first in his camera trying to get video of the situation.
“Bang… Bang… Bang”
I screamed and fell to the ground as I heard the sounds of gunshots rang out and the whizzing sound of the bullets passing right by me. I then felt people grabbing me and dragging me away from the bridge.
“Are you alright?” Said a group of men who picked me up off the ground. I looked up to them and nodded.
“Yes, I'm good.” I said to the men. The group quickly disbanded and I looked up to try and Husayn. The group was in a state of chaos. People were running around checking on people and making sure they were alright.
“They hit someone! They fucking hit someone.” Yelled a man in the crowd
“Oh god, is he dead!?” Yelled another woman. I got to my feet and took off the goggles as they were starting to fog up on me. I moved up to front of the crowed only to see a body laid out on the ground in a slumped over position. I saw two soldiers standing over the body with one speaking aggressively to the other one. I looked closer at the body and noticed that it had the same green shirt and khaki shorts on that Husayn had.
“They killed him, they killed him!” I yelled out as the reality of the situation struck me. My eyes swelled up with tears and I started sobbing. He was only 18 years old, he just wanted to take a video… And now he's dead.
