Chapter 1
Maggie
Fall 2024
“Ten minutes till evac, Gallagher.” With a firm nod, he waits for me to respond.
“Can we get a little longer? I want to document this family... the home.”
Grey eyes tighten under an army helmet. Captain Fielder adjusts his rifle, before scanning the war-torn streets of the Ukrainian town along the eastern border.
One of the few abandoned smaller towns, not occupied. Still just as dangerous. The place is desolate.
The destruction is beyond anything I’ve seen before.
And I am here to document it. The six soldiers I came with have been part of the support from our country. The helmet and khakis I was issued went from impeccable to filthy in a matter of days. The bulletproof vest that covers my chest hides my press pass. The only giveaway I’m not a soldier, excluding my lack of discipline, is the fact I don’t carry a weapon and the camera with its oversized lens hanging from my neck.
If images say a thousand words, the shots on this camera would tell stories to shock even the hardest of souls.
As they should.
The world needs to know what happens when wrong takes over right. We are blissfully unaware, going through the everyday motions. Sipping iced lattes and ducking into Walmart for just one more thing. Our first-world comforts are many.
If it isn’t seen, it doesn’t exist.
I will make it exist. Make people care.
Make a difference.
The entire reason I got into photojournalism in the first place.
A small hand tugs on my pants.
I look down to see brown eyes sunken into a filthy, small face.
A little girl. No older than six or seven, I assume. Although with the poverty the war has caused, she could be older.
I squat and hold both of her hands. “Hello.”
She mumbles something I don’t understand, but her face says it all. She’s scared. Hungry.
Hopeless.
I slide the granola bar I was saving for the ride home from my shirt pocket and place it in her hands. She nods, a wobbly smile exposing her missing teeth.
I stand and a hand grips my shoulder.
“Two minutes, Gallagher.”
The captain stands by me, always only a few feet away. Something about me being his responsibility. I’ve been with this team for almost a month, and they seem like a band of big brothers to me now.
“Any wriggle room in that, Cap? I need a few internal shots. Living conditions, etc.”
“Three minutes tops. We have incoming, and they ain’t friendly.”
I nod and walk into the nearest broken-down concrete home. The curtains are shredded, blowing in the smoke-riddled breeze. The floor is littered with rubble and broken household items. Awoman is sweeping. Her husband is trying to pack a few things into a bag as a small boy sits at his feet, chewing on what I think is some kind of dried meat.
Feeling like an intruder, I step back and knock on the internal wall by the door. “Hello.”
