I asked one of the soldiers why they had not intervened the night before.
“What could we do?” he said. “We’re not going to fire on people, after all. They were throwing Molotov cocktails at each other. One just happened to land on us.”
He pointed at a scorch mark.
“And what will happen today?” I asked him.
“I hope it will be quieter, peaceful,” he said, as every soldier everywhere hopes each morning. “It’s our country and we should fear for it.”