Embedded journalism from the front lines of
Afghanistan & Iraq ~ by Mike & Carlos Boettcher

In the moments before a howitzer fires, time seems to slow even as activity speeds to a frenzy, the mammoth gun playing host to a group of soldiers with one goal in mind: fire the round quickly, accurately, and without incident. A soldier shouts, coordinates and direction spilling from his mouth, numbers and letters arranged so oddly is seems as though he speaks another language. There is a curious cadence to his speech, a rhythm that the rest of the soldiers follow without question.

They spin wheels and gears, moving the gun just so, the length of the barrel turning with each pump of a gray-clad arm. The shell is loaded into the breach and pushed to the base of the barrel by two soldiers wielding a long, metal pole; ungainly action made elegant by long practice. One last soldier holds a bright red bag gingerly, and as he places it into the base of the gun its purpose becomes clear: it is the explosive powder responsible for the shell’s flight, and for the dreadful noise that follows.

All at once activity stops, and the soldiers lean away from the gun, holding hands to their ears in preparation for what follows. Tension builds, coiling like a spring as the bodies of the men steel themselves for the firing. Time becomes elastic, stretching and vibrating with each tick of the clock, and though all ears are covered, everyone listens for a single word: “Fire.”

And when it comes, the word is lost in the thunder of the great cannon. The sound is felt rather than heard, the air curdling as the force of the blast passes through it, every bone in every body vibrating in concert. The earth itself shudders, and dust rises in every direction, hazy white clouds lending a ghostly atmosphere to the soldiers who have once more spun into action.

They begin the process anew, loading the shell, filling the breach, packing the powder, continuing until no more shells are needed, until their mission is complete. Miles away, the shells strike, unseen by the soldiers manning the gun. For them, the howitzer they fire is their duty, their task, but for those who receive its attentions, it is the hammer of god.