'They are the enemies. We are the heroes'

'We are not stealing their lands. We are taking what is ours'

'We are conquerers.'

'Kill them all'

So were the affirmations that our sergeants drilled into our heads every day before battle. I believed them. I always had.

But now in the middle of the burning village, still tightly grasping my gun, I watched as a little girl lost her life in front of me.

A girl I had killed

.

She looked up at me with wide, terrified eyes. Her mouth trembled as she cried out one last time for someone to save her.

But no one came.

Not even me.

For the first time, I didn't see an enemy. I saw a child.

I looked around. Flames tore through homes, smoke choking the air. Children ran, screaming. Mothers lay bloodied and broken. Families crumbled in the ash and fire.

It wasn't them who did this.

It was us.

The heroes.

I dropped my gun.

And with it, everything I believed in.