The Perfection of War

Part 1: Snowfall in Anatolia

Snow was falling when we crossed into Anatolia.

The driver was from Izmir; he had never seen snow before. He gripped the wheel like a sledgehammer about to break free, squinting into the white blur, afraid of the slide. I took over. The wipers squealed against the packed snow. Behind us, darkness swallowed the last of the Silk Road.

By dawn we rolled into…