My Soldier Too

by Bev Prescott

  “I hadn’t thought about it from that angle.”

  “What’s worse is that the repeal could have a very short shelf life, depending on the outcome of the next election. There are plenty of politicians clamoring to undo it while I sit here in this godforsaken place in the name of freedom, having lost the woman I love because she couldn’t bear the thought of my being here.”

  Jim waited a moment before replying. “If you ever need to talk about absolutely anything, you have my word you can talk to me in the strictest of confidence. I hope you know that.” He adjusted the cap on his head. “You want to talk about her? Maybe it would help.”

  “You’ve always been a good friend to me. I’d trust you with my very life.” She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry to say there’s nothing to talk about. It’s over between us.” Madison gestured toward the mountains in front of them. “Isabella was the brightest star that ever shone in my sky.”

  “What happened?”

  “Like I said, she couldn’t handle the fact that I needed to honor my commitment to the Army. On top of that, her family pretty much told her they’d never speak to her again if she and I stayed together. There’s nothing more to it than that. I really don’t want to talk about it, but thanks for asking.”

  “It might help to get some of it off your chest.”

  “I don’t think so.” Madison made a move to rise from her chair. “Am I dismissed, now? I think I’ll check to see if I’m needed with any of the cleanup.”

  “You’re dismissed. Let me know if you change your mind about talking.”

  “I will. And thanks for agreeing to let me go on a MEDCAP.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope it helps you find something good in all this garbage.”

  Madison stood and briefly rested her hand on Jim’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend and a great doctor. Thanks for the conversation.”

  “Try to get some sleep tonight. I want you back at the top of your game tomorrow. By the way, did you mean Isabella from the veterans’ shelter? I met her, remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s beautiful, and everyone at the shelter spoke so highly of her. You should try to win her back. I would, if I were you.”

  “Much as I might want to steer clear of her, I may not be able to keep myself from trying.”

  Chapter 25

  Two armored Humvees idled outside Madison’s tent. “Capt. Brown, we’re ready to head out, ma’am.”

  “I’m on my way.” She secured her Kevlar vest and other body armor. The 9-millimeter pistol in the holster felt heavy. She prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. She grabbed several wrapped candies and crammed them in her pockets to use as bribes and rewards for good behavior for the children she anticipated treating that day.

  The officer leading the MEDCAP had conducted a briefing for the team members the evening before. He stressed repeatedly that, although the mission was to provide medical care to villagers, they needed to remember that this was still a war. “The enemy could be anywhere and in any form. Don’t take anything for granted.”

  Madison exited her tent and hopped into a seat in the second Humvee. A security vehicle equipped with a .50-caliber automatic machine gun escorted them.

  The three-hour drive on the desolate dirt road to the village of Zangabar was mercifully uneventful, except for being jostled around to the point of nausea on the barely passable rock-strewn road. Everyone in the vehicle was on full alert for the entire trip, carefully scanning the road for any sign of bombs, snipers, ambushes, or other deadly obstacles.

  When they arrived at the village, the inhabitants swarmed out of their mud and stone huts toward the MEDCAP team. The security patrol tried to institute order as an interpreter relayed their commands to the villagers. “Please, everyone, stop and line up in a single line. You must be searched before you can receive treatment.”

  Madison had underestimated the extreme poverty of the Afghani natives. She suspected that simply getting through each day with enough food to eat was a major accomplishment for them. Basic medical care was obviously a luxury none of them could afford. She was grateful for an opportunity to do good for some of the people caught in the middle of a war they very likely knew next to nothing about.

  She made her way toward the line of eager villagers. Madison noticed a small dark-haired girl with piercing green eyes. She was wearing a frayed, dirty-white, cotton dress. Her eyes reminded her of Isabella’s. The little girl was standing in front of a woman covered head to toe in long flowing garments and a burka. It made Madison sad to think that the girl’s beautiful eyes would someday be the only part of her that the world would see because she would be hidden under the same kind of coverings once she was a woman.

  The little girl made eye contact with Madison. When she did, Madison felt as though the girl had reached out and physically touched her with her earnest curiosity. Unlike many of the other villagers, her eyes held no fear. To Madison, it looked as though hers were filled with wonder and desire to know a different world and life. Madison imagined that these strange soldiers represented something exciting and exotic to her. Madison smiled at her. She took some of the candy out of the pocket of her vest and approached the child.

  As Madison moved toward her, she noticed an angry looking boy out of the corner of her eye. He took something out of the pocket of his clothing. He looked to be about twelve years old. The soldiers conducting the searches of the villagers noticed him, too—too late to do anything about it.

  The boy dropped the object, and it rolled in Madison’s direction. Instinctively, she grabbed the girl. Madison twisted her body around so she was the only thing between the hand grenade and the child she held in her arms.

  A flash of light pierced Madison’s eyes. A deafening blast knocked her flat. Everything went quiet and black.

  She struggled to open her eyes. She couldn’t remember where she was. Her ears ached. The anguished wails of women and children brought her back. People bellowed in a language she didn’t understand. Soldiers shouting in English added to the cacophony. A hot, sulfuric smell lingered in the air.

  Madison’s face pressed down into warm, wet dirt. She smelled blood. Its metallic taste was in her mouth. She rolled over and screamed out in excruciating pain. She blacked out. When she came to, she struggled to lift her head. The blood on the ground was hers. It was everywhere and quickly pooling at her waist and legs. Her face burned. She reached up to touch it. Blood covered her hand. Her fingers slipped into a large gash in the right side of her jaw. Tears mixed with dirt and blood. Oh God, help me.

  Her right pant leg was shredded and completely soaked through. It was a hideous dark red. Panic threatened to overtake her when she saw the grisly tangle of her leg. No. If someone didn’t get to her quickly, she’d bleed to death. She tried to sit up without moving her leg, so she could administer self care. When she moved, a piercing pain cut through her lower back. Another bloodcurdling scream boiled out of her. Her body went limp. This time, she lay still and tried to stay calm. She was already thoroughly spent from the pain. Her fellow soldiers would come to her aid soon. She reached down to feel for the watch in her pocket. It was still there. Isabella. She blacked out again.

  Madison woke to the feel of a tiny hand on her forehead. The little girl wiped blood off her brow. They stared at each other for a moment. Madison had saved the child’s life. At least that was something. She drew some measure of contentment knowing that her death wouldn’t be in vain.

  Abruptly, someone pulled the little girl out of the way. A soldier with a familiar face knelt over her. It was Sgt. Phillip Keyser, one of the medics in the Humvee she’d ridden in to the village. “Stay with us, Captain. We’re going to get you out of here. The chopper’s on its way.” He jabbed her uninjured thigh with a dose of morphine, and with the assistance of one of the MEDCAP doctors, he applied a tourniquet to Madison’s right leg, which still gushed blood. Sgt. Keyser packed an open wound to her lower back below where her Kevlar vest r
eached.

  Madison thought she heard the distant sounds of an approaching helicopter, but she couldn’t concentrate through states of intermittent consciousness. A force tugged at her like she was being pulled away. She struggled to keep hold. There isn’t enough time. I’m going to die. She fought to stay focused. The light around her narrowed like someone was turning down a dimmer switch until there was no more light. The last thing she heard before she blacked out for the third time was Sgt. Keyser yell, “Her pulse is tacking. Where the fuck is that chopper?”

  The helicopter touched down, and Capt. Madison Brown was loaded on board. Dr. Barns saw how much blood she’d lost from the stain on the ground where she’d lain. The crew on the helicopter started an infusion of plasma, but they weren’t able to slow the blood loss.

  The chopper arrived back at camp. Madison’s breathing was shallow and her pulse was barely detectable. The medics rushed her limp body into the examination tent and cut away the lower portion of her uniform. The upper part of her right leg was grotesquely discolored and swollen from the pooling of blood caused by the tourniquet. The bottom half was nothing but splintered bone and mangled tissue. The rest of her body was white and cold. “She’s going into shock,” Dr. Barns yelled. “We’re losing her.”

  The medics, including a stoic Eric Anderson, finished cutting the uniform away from her body so the doctor could assess the extent of her injuries before getting her into surgery. Repairing the femoral artery was the first priority. If they didn’t get the bleeding stopped, she’d certainly die. The medics gently rolled her on her side to let Dr. Barns assess the wound to her lower back. A piece of shrapnel was wedged into the upper part of her hip bone. They’d have to do surgery to get it out and to stabilize any injuries to internal organs. The deep cut in the side of her face would require several stitches to close.

  Medics attached heart-monitoring equipment to her chest, and they infused her with two more units of blood plasma. She was barely clinging to life when they rushed her into the surgical tent.

  Dr. Barns examined the shattered bone in her damaged leg. The blast had ripped into it with devastating consequence. “This is bad,” he said.

  Col. Tom Jenkins, a fellow surgeon, agreed. “We don’t have a choice. We’ve got to take her leg. Otherwise, she’s not going home alive.”

  “We’ve got to try to send her home in one piece if we can.” One of the monitors attached to Madison’s chest blared the warning that her blood pressure had dropped precipitously. Dr. Barns was desperate not to lose Capt. Brown—and Jim was equally as desperate not to lose his friend, Madison. “Come on guys, get moving. We’ve got to get her stabilized, now!”

  Madison was aware of her heart faltering. She couldn’t hang on much longer.

  Jim yelled at her. “Capt. Brown… Madison… don’t you dare let go. Hang in there. You don’t get to check out on us today, God damn it. Not on my watch.”

  Madison tried to reach out to him… to anyone… in the room. Maybe making contact with a human being would be enough to keep her from being pulled away from the living. But she couldn’t move. Her limbs refused to respond to demands that they do something, anything to show she was still alive. She felt her grip on the world give way. In her mind, she scrambled to hang on, desperately trying to cling to life. She strained to hear the voices around her, but they receded into barely audible murmurs.

  The old saying was true.

  One’s life really does pass before her eyes the moment she’s perilously close to the end. Memories flashed in sequence through Madison’s mind. She saw herself as a little girl, watching her father boxing in the gym. She laughed as he carried her on his back. Then she relived the grief and shock at his death. Next came anger because her mother couldn’t love her for who she was. She felt the sorrow of Jennifer’s leaving without saying good-bye. Her Army days replayed, highlight by highlight. There were the good days with Bobbie and Jerome. All the memories came one after another until she got to the sweetest ones of all. Isabella.

  Her mind slowed down to take them all in. As she watched them unfold again, she finally knew the answer to Bobbie’s question. “Do you regret letting yourself love Isabella?” No, never. I’d die a thousand more deaths like this one for the chance to love her. Finally, Madison’s mind quieted. There were no more thoughts or lights or voices in the background, only a hushed, dark, silence. I don’t want to go, especially not like this, but thank you for letting me know love in this life. In that moment, Madison’s heart stopped beating. She gasped for one more breath that didn’t come. I’m going to walk with the angels now. I love you, Isabella. Please remember me always.

  Chapter 26

  Isabella forced down another spoonful of broth filled with miniature meatballs, chicken, and greens. Maria had brought over a pot of their Nana’s Italian wedding soup earlier in the day in an effort to get her to eat. Not enough sleep and too much worry had worn down Isabella’s immune system. The cold she’d caught weeks ago continued to linger. At least that’s what her sister thought. When Isabella told herself the truth, she knew she was buried in deep clinical depression and that the virus was far more a symptom of her true illness rather than its cause.

  Every day, Isabella checked with Bobbie, but she hadn’t heard from Madison in weeks. Isabella frequently had foggy nightmares about Madison calling out for her, and that only made both her physical and emotional states even worse.

  The doorbell rang. Isabella hoped it wasn’t Maria coming to coax her out of the doldrums with more of their grandmother’s cooking. She pressed her fingers to her thinning waist. Then again, more food was probably in her best interest. From the way her clothes hung off her body, she guessed she’d lost about ten pounds. Without looking through the door’s peephole, she swung it open. Only Maria would knock at this hour. But it wasn’t Maria.

  “Bobbie?”

  “Can I come in?”

  Nerves soured the soup in Isabella’s stomach. The look on Bobbie’s face screamed volumes. “Noooo!” Isabella wailed the word as she began to swoon.

  Bobbie caught her before she tumbled to the floor. She helped her to the sofa. “It’s bad, Isabella, but Madison’s still alive.”

  Isabella clutched Bobbie to her and sobbed. “What happened?”

  “She was on a special mission to provide medical care to villagers. A boy threw a grenade at her and the soldiers she was with. Madison was a hero. She put herself in front of it to save a child.”

  “How badly is she hurt?”

  “They had to… she lost half her leg.”

  Isabella closed her eyes, but the image of a disfigured Madison still taunted her. She felt her emotions shutting down, blunting her despair. “Where is she? I have to see her.”

  “They flew her home this morning. She’s at Walter Reed. Jerome booked all three of us on a late flight to DC tonight. The officer who called me said we should get there as soon as we can.”

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  * * *

  Isabella tried for what felt like the hundredth time to doze off. She’d feel so much better if her mind would quiet down long enough to let her rest, even for a few minutes. The strange lighting of the hospital and the uncomfortable waiting room chair made sleep impossible. Who was she kidding? If the circumstances were ideal, worry for Madison would still keep sleep only a distant dream. She, Bobbie, and Jerome had arrived at the hospital around two in the morning. All they’d been told so far was that Madison was still in surgery.

  Jerome stood and stretched his arms. “The sun’s coming up. I’ll get us some coffee.”

  “Thanks, honey. I think we’re going to need it. See if you can find a sandwich or something, too.” Bobbie patted Isabella’s knee as Jerome left in search of breakfast. “You okay?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m tired of waiting. If someone doesn’t come soon to tell us how Madison is doing, I’m going to start ripping down walls to get to her.” Isabella trie
d to rub the fatigue from her eyes. “I’m sick from worry.”

  “I know, sweetie. Me, too, but all we can do is wait.”

  A soldier in scrubs, carrying a clipboard, came into the room. Isabella and Bobbie stood in anticipation.

  “Mrs. Bixby?” he asked.

  “That’s me,” Bobbie answered.

  “I’m Sgt. Mayfield. Dr. Gant wanted me to let you know that Capt. Brown is in recovery and doing well. After the doctor checks on another patient, she’ll be out to speak to you.”

  “When can we see Madison?” Bobbie asked.

  “It shouldn’t be much longer. As soon as she’s taken to her room, you’ll be able to pay her a brief visit.” Sgt. Mayfield lifted the top page on the clipboard. “I have you and your husband listed as Capt. Brown’s health care proxies. Since she’ll be in intensive care, only you and her next of kin will be allowed in to see her.” He said to Isabella, “Are you an immediate family member?”

  “I…” Telling him that Madison was the person with whom she intended to spend the rest of her life didn’t seem a good idea at the moment. “No. I’m a friend.”

  “I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until Capt. Brown is out of intensive care before you can see her.”

  Bobbie rushed to Isabella’s defense. “Isabella and Madison aren’t just casual friends. They’re best friends. You have to make an exception.”