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This is from Brian Balta of The Hoosier Review:

I am a commander in the Republican Guard. I have my own division under my command. We have spent the last two weeks under heavy American bombardment. Many of my comrades, my friends, have been killed in their vehicles by American bombs. There is a massive American army marching towards us. They intend to kill us. They hate us. They have hated us for a decade.

They bombed us many times before. I have lived half my life listening to the sirens over Baghdad. I am their enemy. Their bombs have ruined everything. They destroyed roads, houses, homes. They killed my eldest daughter. A bomb hit near her house in the first war. They killed many in that war. Many of my friends. My family.

They killed my youngest daughter too. She was only 8. I watched her suffer and die. We couldn't feed her. There was no food. The Americans wouldn't let us have food. I watched her whither away. She lied there, looking me in the eyes, in tears. She told me how much it hurt. And then she died. It was so painful for her. The Americans made my daughter suffer so much. I hate them.

We are about to be crushed by them. Our tanks have been destroyed. All I have left is this one weapon. Saddam gave us his last weapon. He told us to use it only if there was no hope left. It will not help us win, but perhaps I can hurt the Americans. Just a little. Just a few of them. If I could only make them feel some of the hurt I've suffered. I want them to suffer so much.

On the other hand, I have this pamplet in my hand that I picked up on the ground a few days ago. It requests that I not use this weapon, because my country will suffer if I do.

Fire.