读者文摘:紧张交战中回忆起父亲教诲的士兵(3)（在线收听）

"I'm not trying to scare you, but rifles are for men, not boys.

“我不是吓唬你，但是步枪是为男人准备的，而不是男孩。

If you take this, and we go shooting, you need to accept responsibility every time you pull the trigger. Every bullet. Forever."

如果你拿上这把枪，我们去打猎，你需要为每次扣动扳机承担责任，每一发子弹。永久。”

I nodded my head. I remember tearing up because the enormity of what he'd said had finally gotten through. I'd have the power of life and death over other people.

我点了点头。我记得我哭了，因为我终于理解了父亲话语的深刻含义。某一天我会有决定别人生死的权利。

It's an awesome and terrifying responsibility, and the person I loved and wanted to impress most in the world had entrusted me with this responsibility.

这是个很棒的而又令人害怕的责任。我爱的人，也是这个世界上我最想给他留下深刻印象的人，把这个责任托付给了我。

That night in Iraq, I performed mundane little tasks as the last five minutes of the lives of those strangers in the truck ticked down.

在伊拉克的那个夜晚，我执行着常规的小任务，同时，那个卡车上陌生人的生命的最后五分钟正在倒计时。

Checking the safety, straightening the ammo belt so the rounds would feed correctly and not jam, securing my earplugs, spitting out my gum.

我做了射击准备工作，检查安全性，拉直弹药带，确保子弹能正常发射而不会卡住，固定好耳塞，吐出口香糖。

Over the radio, I checked my clearance to fire. The platoon leader broke in with a yelling whisper: "Check fire, repeat, check fire. DO NOT SHOOT."

通过无线电，我检查了我的射击许可。排长的声音传了过来，他大声说：“停火，重复，停火。不要开枪。”

That was weird, I thought. I popped back up to check the truck. Still coming.

我觉得这很奇怪。我快速起身观察那个卡车。仍然在前进。

Suddenly, a loud burst of machine gun fire erupted from the squad situated near the IED.

突然，简易爆炸装置附近的小队那里传来了一声机炮的巨响。

Tracers arced across the night sky toward the truck, low, fast, and deadly.

机炮在夜空中划出一道弧线，指向那辆卡车，又低，又快，又致命。

A few scattered rifle shots barked out. Then silence. The truck cut a sharp turn back to town and roared off.

有几声零星的枪响。然后寂静。卡车急转弯回到城里，呼啸而去。

Our MRAP raced to where the truck had turned around, spotlights piercing the darkness, guns up and out.

我们的防地雷反伏击车快速开到卡车掉头的地方，聚光灯穿透了黑暗，枪口朝天。

Two men—dumped from the truck—lay on the ground, one twitching and bleeding.

两名男子被人从卡车上扔下来，躺在地上，其中一人抽搐着流血。

The platoon medic kept them alive until a medevac helicopter arrived and ferried them to a hospital.

排医务人员一直维持着他们的生命，直到一架医疗直升机抵达并将他们送往医院。

Though I never learned who they were or what they were doing, I was 90 percent sure that night,

虽然我不知道他们是谁，也不知道他们在做什么，但我有90%的把握，

as I am now, that they were coming out to pick up the IED and use it later. The other 10 percent of me sometimes wonders.

现在也是一样，那天晚上，他们出来取简易爆炸装置，以后再用。另外10%的我有时会想，

If I had shot, regardless of who was in the vehicle, under the rules of engagement I would have been cleared legally.

不管车内是谁，如果我开枪了，根据交战规则，我都可以合法地洗脱罪名。

Ethically I believe I would have been cleared, too, given the circumstances. Morally, I'm not so sure.

从伦理上讲，我相信在这种情况下，我也会被无罪释放。道德上，我不太确定。

Morally, I believe we answer to a higher power than rules of engagement, or even the letter of the law.

从道德上讲，我相信我们要对一种高于交战规则，甚至高于法律条文的力量负责。

Morally, I believe someday I'll be called to account for the things I've done or neglected to do.

从道德上讲，我相信总有一天我会被要求对我做过或忽视的事情做出解释。

Some days, I'm not sure whether I'll be able to do that.

在一些天，我不确定自己能否做到。

What I am sure of today in my early 30s—the same way I was sure of it on that moonless March night when I was 21

在我30岁出头的时候，我能确定的东西跟我21岁的时候一样，当时我在3月份的一个没有月亮的晚上执行任务，

and when I was a wide-eyed child at my family dinner table taking in one of life's most important lessons—

也跟当我还是个睁大眼睛的孩子时，坐在家里的餐桌上，学习人生中最重要的一课时一样，那就是，

is that once you pull the trigger, you own it forever. Because the bullet never, ever, comes back.

一旦你扣动扳机，你就对此后果永久负责。因为子弹永远，永远都不会再回来。