Before the Storm

The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over the sand of the desert. A hot wind stirred the grit and dust, whispering through the skeletal remains of a long abandoned village. Sergeant Major Collins sat outside the tent, his eyes scanning the horizon, where the land met the sky in a wavering line.

He had been in the Marine Corps for more years than he could remember, each year adding to the weight on his shoulders, a burden he wore like a second skin. He thought of the young men under his command, fresh-faced and eager, their spirits unbroken by the realities of war. They were good boys, he thought, brave and strong, but they didn’t know yet.

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. It reminded him of the sunsets he had seen in places far from here, where the ocean met the shore, and the world seemed to breathe in and out.

In those moments, the war felt distant. But here, it was always close—hovering like a storm cloud.

He heard the distant hum of engines, a sound that rumbled in his chest. They were coming. The vehicles rolled in, dust swirling around them, the men inside tense with anticipation. He could see the look in their eyes, a mixture of fear and determination. They had trained hard for this, and now it was time.

“Listen up!” Collins called, his voice steady, cutting through the noise of the engines. The men gathered, forming a semicircle around him. “We’ve been through hell together, and we’ll go through it again. Stay sharp. Trust each other. Keep your heads down.”

He watched as they nodded, some exchanging glances, their bravado still intact. It reminded him of himself at their age, full of fire and certainty. He wondered if they knew how quickly that could change.

As the last rays of sunlight faded, the sky turned dark. The stars appeared–cold and distant, indifferent to the lives that played out below. Collins felt the familiar tightness in his chest. He had seen good men fall, brave men who had fought fiercely and taken too soon.

The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the night—the rustling of the wind, the creaking of the vehicles, the gruff murmurs of the men. In the darkness, he could hear the unspoken fears, the questions that loomed like ghosts. What would happen when dawn broke? What would they face?

He closed his eyes momentarily, letting the stillness wash over him. In his mind, he could see the ocean again, waves crashing against the rocks, the salt air filling his lungs. He remembered the freedom of those moments, the peace that came before the storm.

The sun would rise soon, and with it would come the chaos. But for now, in the quiet before the storm, he found a sliver of solace. He opened his eyes, resolved. He would lead them through it. They were Marines, after all. They would fight. They would endure.