The last army truck

It's a Friday, 4th November morning, and a green army truck just pulled up at our compound - the first and last of its kind. Some soldiers step out. My sister and I are on the balcony. We watch them get welcomed into the house. I was not allowed in to listen to their conversation. My sister says, "Let's take a picture of the truck. It's gonna be the last one we see."

I don't know what conversation was had in there. I guess they were trying to protect me.

Once they step out, I walk back into the house. On the table lies a silver HP laptop. I know this laptop, I've played IGI Covert Strike on it before. It was my brother's laptop. They must have brought back his belongings.

I walk to the table, but as I get closer I start to notice details. It's warped. I pick it up. I look at it closely. I see how bent it is. I run my fingers through the aluminum casing. You can't open it. It's flattened out and bent.

I've never been to war, but I'm holding an aftermath of violence of a magnitude I cannot fathom.

I always heard a lot about bomb attacks and IEDs, but my knowledge was only from what I'd seen in the movies. Even then you could see it's a devastating thing, but I never really understood the magnitude of that kind of violence.

I'm holding what used to be a functional laptop. It's silver and handbag size. Right now it's warped. It's the only remain from my brother's personal belongings they brought back. It survived the attack, but with so much detail about the impact.

I'm looking at violence right in my face, wondering how much force does it take to warp a laptop.

He didn't survive it. Only the laptop did. And I've been trying to wrap my head around what conspired in those few moments when the IED went off and the only survivor is a laptop. My mind tries to picture that scene. Who would exert such violence on their fellow human being?

I'm trying to make sense of it.

What did it look like for those who survived in the other convoy? Was it like - we heard a loud boom, ringing in the ears, smoke, and we were thrown off by the impact. And when we came to, the truck was in pieces, fire had caught, and rummaging through the materials I came by a silver laptop, something I knew would be sent back to a loved one. The only evidence of this trauma and the only evidence that their person was indeed there.

Did they rush to their lifeless bodies to check for pulse?

Could they recognize him after?

I never saw his body. We were never allowed to.

I'm looking at the face of violence, but even then the magnitude is terrifying and all I have is unanswered questions. Should I want to know the real answers?

Would you want to know the answers if you were in my shoes?

My stomach feels sick. My mouth tastes different. I don't feel okay. I'm not okay.