A Fallen Hero

by Sharon Kimbra Walsh

  She did have an idea, however, one that was still in its infancy and lurking at the boundaries of her mind. It was risky and probably impossible to put into action. To put it into perspective she needed to bring it out into the open, talk about it to make it clearer in her mind.

  “I think there is a way,” she began, her voice sounding hesitant to her own ears. “But it’s crazy and I think it almost certainly won’t work.”

  Both Maggie and Jack looked at her. “What is it?” Jack asked, clasping his wife’s hand on the table. “Any idea, even if it’s crazy is better than no idea at all.”

  “Well, I could volunteer and get redeployed back to Afghanistan,” Katie explained quickly, glancing from Maggie to Jack and watching identical looks of horror cross their faces.

  “Katie!” Maggie exclaimed. “No, you can’t do that. What about Josie?”

  The idea was quickly gaining solidity and Katie continued, “I’m due back off maternity leave in a few days, anyway. For reasons only he knows, I don’t think Joe informed the USMC that he and I are married—or he didn’t have time to let them know—otherwise I would have been notified of his plans for redeployment, allowances, salary, housing and so on. I can volunteer for another tour of duty out there. I am a CTM. They’re always crying out for them overseas for various reasons, battle casualties, or fatalities. I’ll be attached to the marines. I might be lucky and be assigned to Joe’s squad. Even in the event I’m not, I can try to find him and get him to come home. But, it would mean that you would need to look after Josie for us.”

  Katie’s voice broke as she mentioned her daughter’s name but she swallowed and continued firmly, “It won’t do my career much good if I get sent out there and it all comes out, but if I can get Joe to come back with me…”

  Maggie and Joe looked at each other then back at Katie, both shaking their heads in unison.

  “Katie,” Maggie responded. “You cannot do this. You’ll be putting yourself in danger, risking your own life. You have Josie to consider in all this. If we go through formal channels, Joe will have to come home, regardless of the consequences to his career. If, as you say, he’s ill, then that will be the best way forward. We should do it through formal channels.”

  “Maggie,” Katie began adamantly. “The Marine Corp means the world to Joe and he’s a proud man. To have anything less than an honorable discharge would kill him. We might just as well put him in front of a firing squad. He would never forgive any of us. My idea probably can’t be done but I can at least try.”

  She paused and swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes filling with unshed tears.

  “He’s your son but my husband and I love him with all my heart. I will do anything to help him. What’s happened to him is not his fault. Yes, he’s left me, Josie, and you. We are all devastated. But when all is said and done he’s our responsibility.”

  Katie stopped speaking and a heavy silence—full of sadness—reigned over the kitchen.

  After a few moments, Jack broke the quiet. “Are you sure about this, Katie? You’ll miss six or seven months of your daughter’s life. Of course, we would look after Josie as if she were our own, but have you thought seriously about this? Joe is stubborn. You could get another tour of duty out there—find him—and he refuses to listen to you. What happens then? You would be in danger as well as Joe. I think we all need to sleep on this and discuss it at a more sensible hour.”

  Katie shook her head. “No,” she stated. “My mind is made up. That’s if the idea is feasible at all. Joe needs our help and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t try to do something to help him.”

  “If you can pull this off we will be eternally grateful,” Jack announced softly, and Maggie nodded, again reaching across the table to clasp Katie’s hand in her own.

  Chapter Five

  Katie stood outside the USMC HQ, wondering anxiously—not for the first time—what on earth she was doing back in the sweltering mid-August heat of an Afghanistan summer, having left her four-and-a-half-month-old daughter behind in the States to go chasing after a missing husband who—even though she had been on the base a little over a week—she had seen no sign of.

  Once she had joined her new marine unit, after her maternity leave had ended and while waiting for her deployment date, the Marine Corp had put Katie through a grueling six-week training regime. She had learned at her cost that the marines were vastly different to the British army—tougher and harder—and she had had to adapt to new rules and regulations. She had received, however, the benefit of up-to-date, state-of-the-art medical training and, after a period of intense persuasion, they were happy to allow her to redeploy back to Afghanistan.

  Her deployment date had taken six weeks to come through which meant a month and a half of being terrified for Joe’s safety. She and his parents had fretted daily at his silence, imagining a knock at the front door and upon going to answer it, seeing the straight-backed shadows of the Marine Corp Chaplain and Commanding Officer through the misty glass, there to impart the devastating news that Staff Sergeant Joe Anderson was dead—killed in action.

  The last few weeks before shipping out had been a nightmare for Katie. Joe’s absence and the struggle to convince the Marine Corp that they needed her out in Afghanistan had taken its toll on her as well as Joe’s parents. Even the baby had been fractious almost to the point of being inconsolable.

  It had almost broken Katie to leave Josie at the airport. It was only the fact that there was the faintest hope she could find and convince Joe that he needed help and bring him home that enabled her to go through security at the airport and board the aircraft on the first leg of her twenty-hour journey.

  Since her arrival back at Base Independence, there had been no opportunity to try to find Joe. She had had to go through a tough assimilation, prove her merit and skill on the shooting range, and take part in drills under the heat of the Afghanistan sun. She still had no idea which squad he was with or where he was on the base. To make too many enquiries would have raised eyebrows and triggered far too much curiosity and suspicion.

  Being back at the base had brought about a surge of memories concerning her last tour with Joe and it had taken all of her willpower to suppress the sadness she was feeling at her husband’s duplicity, the lies and the fact that he had not trusted her enough to ask for help. He had had his orders, his deployment papers and had mentioned nothing.

  Now here she was, attending a briefing for her first patrol as a CTM with her new squad and she was nervous. Five days out in the desert with men that she barely knew and who she believed—if past experiences were anything to go by—might not appreciate having a woman with them, was extremely daunting.

  She had spent the last month and a half getting herself as fit as she could by weightlifting, running and dieting. She could now hump a fifty-pound pack along with the best of them and they were going to be surprised…and so was Joe when she eventually ran into him.

  She was quite happily going to kick him where it hurt the most—husband or not—before flinging herself into his arms and kissing him breathless. He deserved everything that was coming to him.

  Glancing at her watch, Katie saw that time was ticking on and she needed to get to the briefing. Clutching her warning order—WARNO—advising her of the upcoming patrol and containing all pertinent information about it in a sweaty hand, Katie stiffened her shoulders, tilted her chin, and walked in through the double doors of the prefabricated building. Once inside, she hesitated.

  There were butterflies having a field day in the pit of her stomach and she felt sick with nerves. Steeling herself, she walked slowly along the short, green-painted corridor until she heard voices coming from a room off to her right. Noting that it was where the briefing was to take place, she took a deep breath and stepped through the chocked-open doors into a room where approximately twenty male marines had already gathered.

  As Katie appeared, conversation ceased immediately and every male head turned toward her. If sh
e had been in a better frame of mind, she would have been amused at the varying expressions she saw on their faces—surprise, contempt and even some interest and admiration. However, she ignored the reaction and feigning indifference, turned to the front of the briefing room and froze in stunned horror, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach telling her that her situation was about to become far more complicated than it already was.

  Sergeant Louis Eastman was staring at her with an astonished expression on his face. Beside him, bending over to rest a helmet on a pack was another marine who did not bother to look up as Katie entered.

  There was a long silence as Katie’s and the sergeant’s gazes locked. She watched as his eyes narrowed imperceptibly then he shook his head slightly. Katie stood straight—almost to attention—her chin tilted defiantly in the air.

  Sergeant Eastman cleared his throat. “Yes, soldier?”

  “Corporal Anderson reporting for duty, Sergeant,” Katie answered. “I’m the new CTM.” She had not missed hearing the cold unfriendliness in the sergeant’s voice.

  Within a few seconds of her finishing speaking, there was the loud thump of a helmet dropping to the floor and a muffled expletive in a very familiar voice.

  Katie’s head turned so fast toward the tall marine who had ignored her entrance, that she cricked her neck painfully. She watched aghast as her husband straightened up and spun round to stare at her.

  She quickly took in the newly cropped, almost shorn hair, the deeply tanned face, and the muscles rippling in Joe’s arms and chest. He looked every inch a tough, hardened marine but when she finally locked gazes with him, she felt ice creep through her veins.

  She had never seen such a furious expression on a person’s face before. The color of Joe’s eyes was almost black, his features frozen into a grimace with lips thinned and a tic working alongside the scar tracing down his cheekbone. He stood like a rabbit frozen in the glare of a car’s headlights and stared at her as though she were an apparition. To those who might have been looking on, he appeared calm if a little pale but his fists—clenched tightly down at his sides—were white-knuckled.

  On seeing the order advising him of the imminent arrival of his squad’s new CTM, an alarm bell had rung in Joe’s mind at noting the name and rank. Not believing that Katie might follow him out to Afghanistan, he had dismissed what he considered to be the impossible.

  Now, he felt unnerved at the sight of her and uneasy at the fact that she was standing there with coldness in her green eyes and no warmth or delight at seeing him on her pretty face. But what did I expect? Open loving arms?

  He knew without a doubt that he was in a deep pile of shit and that he had some fast talking to do. He recognized by the tilt of her chin that she was furious with him and the hurt he guessed she must be feeling had added fuel to that anger.

  A part of him could not help but notice how beautiful she looked. Her hair was shorter and framed a tanned face that glowed with health and she had obviously been working out and had toned up considerably. She still had the power to arouse him and he reiterated to himself again that he was in trouble.

  After what seemed like minutes, but were probably mere seconds, he said in a voice that sounded husky to his own ears, “Welcome aboard, Corporal. Take a seat and we’ll get this briefing going.”

  He watched as Katie silently turned on her heel, making her way farther into the room to a chair at the end of the first row. He was fully aware that as she moved, all the marines watched her in silence. He noticed that she held a few of their stares until they turned away, then she sat down. She propped her weapon against the side of her chair, took out a small notebook and pen from a pocket on the sleeve of her combat shirt, then stared attentively forward at him, her face devoid of expression.

  Joe, noticing the interested, speculative gazes of his men, ignored them and turned away, pulling down a screen with a large topographical map on it. As he turned back to face front, his eyes caught those of his sergeant.

  Louis cocked an eyebrow at him as if to ask, what the hell are you going to do now?

  Joe glared back, feeling disconcerted—an unfamiliar feeling for him—together with a simmering anger at the position in which Katie had placed him. Questions churned in his mind.

  Where is our daughter? How did Katie manage to swing her deployment to Afghanistan? Moreover, what the fuck are both of us going to do about being in close proximity to each other on the base and out on patrol?

  Conscious that he was wasting time and that his men were becoming restless at the delay, Joe attempted to dismiss the tumbling thoughts in his mind so that he could focus on the briefing.

  “Our patrol will be in this area,” he began, tracing a red outline on the map with a finger. He continued to speak for the next hour, explaining the mission objectives of the patrol, objective rally points—ORPs—call signs, friendlies, and enemy hotspots, the marines making notes and scrawling co-ordinates on their maps.

  Throughout the briefing, Joe found his gaze drifting now and again to where Katie was making her own notes. She appeared to be struggling to avoid his eyes whenever he looked at her.

  Finally, he put his hands on his hips. “Okay, marines. Our call sign tonight will be Charlie. Our staging point is at the motor pool so report to Sergeant Eastman there at 2300 hours. Dismissed.”

  “Oorah, Staff Sergeant,” responded the squad followed by a loud scraping of chairs and thud of boots as they all rose to their feet, picking up weapons and helmets and moving to leave.

  Joe glanced once more in Katie’s direction. One marine passed by her as she was getting to her feet, stopped and smiled. The young corporal moved nearer his wife, held out a hand and Joe overheard him say, “Dan Reed.”

  He saw the admiration on the young man’s face and unable to stop himself from doing so, closely watched them speak.

  Instantly angry and jealous, Joe gritted his teeth. He tried to tell himself that it was only one of his men introducing himself and he should be grateful that at least one member of the squad was making an overture of friendship toward her. He also had no right to expect her to consider his feelings after what he had done to her, but the smile that Katie had given the young marine once belonged solely to him.

  Oblivious to his surroundings, Joe continued to watch the couple, unable to drag his eyes away from the evolving scene, berating himself for eavesdropping on their conversation but continuing to do so anyway.

  He saw Katie was still smiling, albeit a small one, and shaking the proffered hand.

  “Katie…Anderson,” Joe heard her reply briefly.

  As if he was watching a scene unfolding in a play, Joe heard another marine yell, “Come on, Danno. Drag yourself away, why don’t you?”

  “Yeah, yeah, butt out, shithead,” Corporal Reed responded then said to Katie, “Anything you need, give me a shout.”

  “Thank you,” Katie answered. “I’ll do that.”

  Watching Corporal Reed as he walked away, Joe said to Katie in a hard, cold voice, “Corporal Anderson, stay behind.”

  He watched as she turned to glare at him then nodded. “Yes, Staff Sergeant,” she replied and remained where she was, folding her arms.

  Joe turned to Sergeant Eastman and with a gesture, indicated that he should leave. Louis Eastman glanced from Joe to Katie, shook his head, then walked out of the briefing room, closing the doors loudly behind him.

  Katie waited for the blow up to occur, anger already welling up inside her. She refused to lower her eyes and raised her chin defiantly as Joe approached swiftly. She was startled when he reached her and grabbed her upper arms as though he was about to shake her. His voice sounded furious when he spoke.

  “What the fucking hell are you doing here?” he asked. “Why couldn’t you have just stayed away, Katie?”

  Katie wrenched her arms free and took a step back. “Wouldn’t you have just loved that?” she snapped, hurt at his words almost choking her. She could feel the heat mounting in her cheeks.
“Who the hell do you think you are anyway?”

  “I’m your husband,” Joe answered, a cold sharpness edging into his voice.

  Clenching her fists at her sides, Katie snapped back angrily, “No, Joe. You lost that privilege when you walked out on me and your daughter!”

  As soon as she said the words, she instantly wished that she could retract them when a look of pain filled Joe’s eyes.

  For a moment, he appeared lost for words and lowered his head. He remained silent for a few seconds then raised his gaze to look at her.

  “You don’t understand…” he began.

  “No, I don’t understand, Joe,” Katie rejoined, her voice trembling. “I don’t understand at all because you never took the time to tell me. When I asked, you refused point blank to discuss anything with me.”

  Once she had started to voice her pain and hurt, there was no way she could stop or back down and she felt physically sick with the notion that their marriage was falling apart.

  “You never gave me a chance,” she continued. “You planned everything in secret. You lied to me then you just left me and Josie, even after…” Katie almost choked on the words. “Even after we made love on the grounds of the hotel at the Marine ball the night you left. You even said that you loved me. How could you do it, Joe? You kept everything locked up inside you. Your parents even tried to help you but you refused all our help.”

  She felt tears fill her eyes—helpless to prevent it from happening—and knew that she was about to cry. But if she started she would not be able to stop. She took a deep shuddering breath, trying to control herself and bit down hard on her lip. She was damned if she was going to cry in front of him.

  Joe continued to stare at her in silence. He ignored her plea for an explanation and asked quietly, “What are you doing here, Katie? You left Josie. Where is she?”

  “Oh, please. What the fuck do you care?” Katie spat sarcastically, anger overtaking her again at his refusal to answer her. She felt her heart breaking at the harsh, cruel way they were speaking to each other.