The streets are where we come alive. Your blood pumps harder and courses through your veins as you walk street to street. Block to block your eyes always scanning. Your mind races as you run possibilities through your head. It can come from anywhere, at anytime from anyone. The eyes pierce through you and peer through cracked and broken windows. Cell phones light up the night as you pass through the darkness. Small slivers of movement are the only thing that gives you away. You jump from shadow to shadow moving through the darkness. Total darkness is lit up in a fury of green haze, a haze where we can see everything and they can see nothing. We own the night, silently we move and watch every back alley street with muzzles raised and thumbs on the safety. A fraction of a second and the thumb switches the lever to fire and the finger is on the trigger. Your clothes haven’t been washed in over a week but you rifle is spotless, Its your lifeline. The squad moves down either side of the street, spaced, scanning sectors. We reach our target house silently and in one thunderous smash the door is kicked open and we have every room of the house secured before most people can even pull back the covers. But who are these people that we hunt. They are shop owners, merchants, construction workers, police officers, religious figures, and the families that lie in between. Mothers and children are separated and watched with vigilant eyes, theirs are full of fear. Are they members of a militant militia bent on the ousting and destruction of coalition forces or simple families caught in the middle? Victims of false intelligence? There is a new enemy among us, this enemy is the unknown. The unknown keeps your sharp, keeps your senses keen. We’ve been shot at on these same streets. And the next day I’ve seen children smiling. This constant embodiment of the unknown keeps us vigilant, always watching and waiting for the brief few seconds when the silence is shattered. This city is alive, and these streets are where we come alive.