The Peace Makers

They stood in an unbroken line, 10 deep, surrounding the refugee camp. They were armed only with the dignity of their physical presence. No guns, no knifes, no clubs. They held up 6 foot tall armored bullet proof shields, and were covered in Ziloflex body armor and helmets. And of course their uniforms were white.

Jason stood at attention, the bottom lip of his shield digging into the soft grass in front of his boots. He held the shield with two hands, to prevent it from falling against him. His eyes were focused on the horizon. All was calm, and peaceful. The night was crisp, but not cold, and brightly lit by the full moon.

His mind was on another continent, where he imagined himself finishing his university degree and dating beautiful women. Another 9 months of duty as a peacemaker would earn him enough scholarship money to complete his studies. And it would count as credits towards his degree.

"Chai?"

It took his mind a second to return to his body.

"Yes, thank you," he said.

The lady handed him a small Styrofoam cup of steaming hot chai, and walked over to the next peace maker, standing two arm lengths away. Jason looked at the chai lady out of the corner of his eyes. She was wearing the standard issue fatigues given to the refugees: dull gray cotton pants and a matching pullover. Hunched over, she pushed the chai cart, her aging body clearly strained by the task.

Without hearing the shot, Jason saw the chai woman collapse into a gray heap on the ground. Instinctively he moved towards his right to protect her. The second bullet ricocheted off his shield. The peacemaker to his right had also moved to her left, joining her shield to his. Like a wave rippling through the line, peace makers moved side-ways, and forwards to close the line. A scouting unit came rushing out of the back towards the probable location of the sniper.

But no more shots were fired.

A few moments later, Jason turned his head to look at the chai woman, but the medics had already taken her away. He looked at the crushed cup of spilled chai next to his boots, and barely choked back the overwhelming despair that welled up inside of him. His training had prepared him for moments like this, and yet it was difficult to tame the powerful urge to rush into the woods and strangle the sniper bare handed!

It was a very tense night for Jason. He tuned his ear bud headset to one of the music stations being broadcast from the refugee camp to help calm himself, and to stay awake. Every 15 minutes the music was interrupted with a status report, but after the sniper attack there was no further action. He wondered how long this mission would last.

Previous missions had gone as long as 10 years! Whatever it took to ensure a lasting peace. At least now they would probably start construction on a perimeter wall. That step was not usually taken until it was clear that the conflict was going to last a long time, and that the aggressors were willing to attack the human line protecting the refugees.

Jason watched the sunrise with one eye; the other one was already asleep. He reveled in the fact that in another 15 minutes he would be lying comfortably on a time-shared cot inside the camp. Then he saw the assault troops pouring out of the forest. The attackers had no air support, as the air was fully controlled by Nato planes. But they knew there would be no return fire, and so they threw themselves at the line without reservation. Jason watched in slow motion as one of the government soldiers hurled himself against Jason’s shield. The soldier slid off the shield harmlessly, but Jason had to muster all his mental strength to keep from clobbering the guy with his shield.

The soldier got up again, and drew his handgun. Jason froze as the soldier placed the barrel of the gun against the Plexiglass window in Jason’s shield, aimed at his forehead. With a hideous smile on his face, the soldier pulled the trigger. The shield held, but barely.

The fracture lines formed instantly like an explosion within the Plexiglas itself. Unable to control his rage, Jason leaned into his shield with a sudden shift of his weight, causing the soldier to stumble, and fall. The soldier was immediately trampled by a comrade who sprang up from behind and tried to push his way around Jason’s shield. But another peacemaker was ready to fill the gap as Jason retreated to the back of the line. The drone of the news helicopters overhead was barely audible above the shouting and cursing on the line. But Jason felt relieved at their presence, because it meant that the government’s cowardly assault was already being broadcast worldwide.

The back of the line was very organized, despite the chaos of the attack. There was little actual firing of weapons going on since the soldiers would most likely hit their own if they fired. So instead they resorted to trying to muscle their way through the line. Jason watched as a disarmed soldier was thrown to the back of the line, where he was stripped and tied to be taken as prisoner. The soldier seemed oddly upbeat about the ordeal. Although Jason could not understand what he was saying, it sounded an awful lot like he was thanking his captors.

"You! Are you hurt?"

Jason looked up at the commander barking at him. "No sir!"

"Get a new shield and fall back in line. Don’t let any of those sons of bitches through there with a gun, you got that?!"

"Yes sir!"

Jason ran over to the supply shed, where an officer was distributing shields, helmets and other gear to peacemakers who needed replacements. He threw down the damaged shield, and took another one from the front of one of the many rows of shields. Holding it up with one hand using the horizontal center grip, he jogged back to the line.

But he quickly realized that the assault had deteriorated into what appeared to be a massive rugby match, with each side digging in their heels as the other side tried to push them over. Jason dropped the shield and planted his fee on the ground and his hands on the back of the person in front of him. One of the soldiers had made it deep into the line, and tried to crawl through Jason’s legs. Jason sat down on the soldier’s back, but the soldier did not resist. Jason frisked him thoroughly and then passed him off to the handlers behind him.

The assault lasted barely 30 minutes. The soldiers withdrew from the line after it became clear that the attack had been completely ineffective. Unable to use armored vehicles because of the terrain and the trenches and other obstacles put in place by the peace makers, they were limited to a shoving match. And the peace makers had stood their ground, without attacking or killing anyone. There were many injuries on both sides, but no deaths. And thousands of soldiers had defected into the refugee camp. The diplomats would have a field day with this one, Jason thought.

After the soldiers retreat, armored bulldozers cleared the line of weapons, which were collected and would be shipped to recycling plants worldwide for construction of agricultural instruments and other products. After a short, but very deep and restful sleep, Jason woke up just before noon. He sat up, and ran to the main medic tent where he figured the chai lady had been taken.

"How is she? Did she live?" he shouted at the intern.

"Who?!"

"The lady who got shot last night, you know, by that sniper."

"Oh, yes, she had a shoulder wound, but looks like she’ll survive."

"Great, can I see her?"

"Sure, follow me."

Jason looked at the woman’s face, deeply grooved and carved by what seemed to be the same forces that had shaped the surrounding mountains. He guessed that she was in her forties, probably already a grandmother. She was sleeping peacefully, and Jason did not wish to disturb her. In any case, he thought, they probably shared only a single word between their languages: "chai".