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Excerpt from Bluewater Seven
Terror at Sea
Mustafa leaned back against the adobe wall and threw another stick on the small fire. He listened as the fire crackled and popped as it consumed the stick. Sparks were drifting upward on the hot thermals and disappearing into the night. He held his hands out toward the fire and felt the warmth caress his hands. He wondered why it was always so cold in the desert at night. He could hear the sounds of the other five men sleeping inside the small hut. He looked up at the star filled sky; it was illuminated by the glow of the Milky Way, and the lack of electric lights just increased the brilliance. The sky was so similar to the sky in the Middle East. He missed the familiar feel of his home in Lebanon and his wife and children, but he was so proud and honored to have been chosen by Allah to be one of his warriors.
It was a strange path that led him to this adobe hut outside the pueblo, Ejido Jacume. He thought back to the day the Christian militia had attacked his camp. He and his Palestinian brothers were waging a losing battle. They were slowly being pushed backward. People were dying all around him as they fought a hopeless battle. The barrel of his rifle became so hot he couldn’t touch it. He was determined to make a last stand next to his house. He would give his life so his wife and children would have time to escape. He shoved another clip into his AK47 and gunned down three of the attackers before an Israeli tank appeared. He froze as the turret slowly turned until the big gun was pointing in his direction. He saw the blast of fire and smoke, and heard the screech of the shell.
The concussion from the explosion lifted him from his feet, and he was thrown to the ground. He was lying there in a daze when he heard a scream and saw his four year old daughter run by him. Her dress was in flames. He fought his way to his feet and ran after her. He watched as she stumbled then fell to the ground. He reached and grabbed her arms. The skin pealed away from her charred flesh when he tried to lift her. He dropped her back to the ground and looked back at what was his house. Nothing was left; he could see the remains of his wife and son scattered within the burning debris. He stood there in shock. The tank fired again. Everything went black.
He awoke in a Red Crescent tent and cried as he wondered why Allah had allowed him to live while the rest of his family perished. His questions were answered when he was summoned to appear before the Ayatollah and the sacred honor of being a martyr was bestowed upon him. He could think of nothing more worthy and glorious than giving his life for Allah.
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