A Fallen Hero

by Sharon Kimbra Walsh

  “Give me some credit for having as much intellect as you. She’s safe and staying with your mum and dad. We talked at length and they agreed with what I was doing. What business is it of yours anyway?”

  The muscles in Joe’s jaw clenched, a sure sign that she was getting to him and he was becoming angry again.

  “Well hell, Katie. Sorry for shitting on your parade but it is my business. However much you suddenly appear to hate the idea, we are still married so that still makes you my wife. That means this, sweetheart. You stay away from my men, you hear, because they sure as hell don’t need any distractions from a pretty face. They have a job to do. I have a job to do and I’m gonna keep it that way.”

  Katie uttered a gasp of anger at the insinuation in his statement. “I hope you’re not implying that I’m going to waste my time mucking around with your men. No, Joe. You stay off my case. Whether you like it or not, I’m here, so deal with it. If you don’t like me talking to your men or them talking to me, again, bloody deal with it. In case you’ve conveniently forgotten, I have my career in the army as well with my job to do. I’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine. I’ll also obey your orders. Just don’t make me a scapegoat for all the problems that you feel you need to resolve.”

  Again, she could not stop the sarcastic-sounding words she threw at him. With shoulders heaving, she finally lapsed into silence, staring at him and noticing that his body was now rigid with anger.

  Joe put his hands on his hips. “Fucking A you’ll obey my orders—to the letter, lady. I’ll treat you the same way as I treat my men, and you’ll carry out the same duties as well. You chose to come out here with some crap idea of being a heroine. So be it. Just don’t expect to come running to me if you get your pretty ass tangled up in any problems. It’s a long time for these men to be out in Afghanistan. You might find yourself with a few situations that you can’t handle.”

  Katie stared at Joe. It was as though she were hearing a complete stranger and was astounded at the cruel way they were speaking to each other. She knew she had to get out of the room before she broke down. Her eyes brimming with tears she said in as steady a voice as she could manage, “Is that all, Staff Sergeant? Can I go now?”

  Joe swallowed, nodding. “That’s all, Corporal,” he responded quietly. “Report to the motor pool at 2300 hours with full equipment.”

  Katie nodded silently and, retrieving her weapon, she stalked past her husband and slammed her way through the doors of the briefing room. For a second, she thought she heard Joe call out her name but continued walking—back ramrod straight and head held high—hopeful that she was showing nothing of the heartbreak that was almost tearing her apart. She was almost running when she reached the exit and rushed out of the building.

  Once outside, she stopped in her tracks and lowered her head, hearing herself uttering soft, hurt-sounding sobs.

  I can’t believe what just happened. She wished she had never started this. She wanted to be back at home with Josie, Maggie and Jack. However, it was too late. The damage had already begun.

  Straightening her shoulders, she strode away from the USMC HQ back to the accommodation tents. She would spend her downtime getting her equipment ready and try to get a couple of hours of sleep before making her way to the motor pool. She had to get herself together and try to forget about the confrontation with Joe so that she could focus on her job.

  * * * *

  Back in the briefing room, Joe remained standing where Katie had left him—body tense, fists clenched on his hips, head bowed, taking deep breaths in an attempt to bring his anger under control.

  He had no idea what had possessed Katie to volunteer for deployment back to Afghanistan, leaving their baby behind. He was furious at her arrival and not just for personal reasons. She was a distraction and not just to himself but to his men. Their close proximity and the hostility between them would create unforeseen difficulties and he now felt an enormous responsibility to keep her safe.

  Joe shut his eyes tightly as if by closing them he could dismiss what had just occurred between himself and his wife. The cruel words they had spoken to each other still rang in his ears and for a second he thought of running after her and taking her in his arms. He immediately dismissed the thought, convinced that it would just make matters worse and, with Katie’s stubbornness, would serve no purpose.

  Suddenly aware that he needed to get moving, Joe turned to retrieve his rucksack. On catching sight of his helmet laying on the floor, he bent to retrieve it, missed on the first grab, and in sudden fury, managed to grasp the innocent item and hurl it with tremendous force at the wall. It hit with a resounding crack, fell to the floor and bounced, coming to rest at his feet, rocking slowly.

  “Fuck!” Joe yelled. “Fuck! Fuck!”

  * * * *

  On reaching her new quarters, Katie ducked through the entrance and went inside. The female accommodation at Camp Roosevelt was a lot bigger than that at Camp Churchill. In the week she had been in country, she had made friends with the other women, her usual practice and an easy task for her, but it was a different set up from that on Camp Churchill.

  The American women tended to be more laid-back, more vocal and Katie had noticed that there were cliques, which had never happened on her last deployment. The women were friendly enough but she found herself holding back from becoming too involved with them.

  Now, on entering the tent she greeted those present before going to her bed space.

  Tossing her helmet to the floor, she lifted up her medical pack and placed it on the bed. Opening it, she rechecked the medical supplies stored inside. When she was satisfied that all was in order, she placed it back on the floor before making sure that she had her basic field equipment in a small pouch on the front of her body armor. Again satisfied, she collected her shower kit from her locker and went out back to the shower tents. It was the last opportunity she would have to take a shower for five days. She would be lucky to even have the opportunity of having a wash on patrol and she was not looking forward to that.

  Once she had taken a long hot shower, she went back into the tent to her bed and lay down on her sleeping bag to get some sleep. As soon as she closed her eyes, she remembered the argument between herself and Joe in the USMC HQ. She moaned silently, wishing she could take back some of the harsh words that she had thrown at him.

  Thoughts rocketed around in her mind, making her sleepless and restless.

  She loved him so much, what had possessed her to be so hurtful? He might even think that she hated him for what he had done and she had no way of retracting her words.

  God. She was a wimp. He deserved everything he had gotten from her.

  So, why do I feel so guilty?

  Katie’s emotions reeled backward and forward between love and hate.

  She’d seen an obvious look of pain on his face. Why? She didn’t understand. He had left her and Josie with no explanation and no warning. He deserved her anger and he deserved to be hurt. But—and there was a big one in all this—she still loved him.

  No matter what he had done to her and their daughter, he was still her husband and he must have had his reasons for doing what he had, as cruel as those actions had been. She had put her life on the line in an attempt to find out his reasons and until she had discovered them, she had no right to judge.

  Katie tossed and turned for a long time, wanting to sleep but her mind too chaotic, her emotions a tumbling, churning mess. Finally, still unused to the change in time zone, she dozed which led to a deeper sleep haunted with black, writhing shapes and mumbled argumentative words.

  The alarm on Katie’s watch woke her at 2200 hours. The tent was in semi-darkness, some of the women already asleep, others watching films on laptops, typing or listening with headphones to music on iPods.

  Katie rose from her bed and began to dress for the patrol. Her uniform consisted of combat trousers and combat shirt, thick thermal cotton socks, combat boots, body armor, limb protectors a
nd gloves. She clipped the pouch containing her personal role radio—PRR—to her front, put on the headset in its harness, combat helmet, then slid the last piece of her uniform—a white armband with a red cross on it—up her arm. She finally slung the heavy medical pack onto her back then picked up her weapon.

  Once she was fully dressed, she felt hot and uncomfortable. It was going to be hell having to wear and carry enough equipment and supplies to double her weight but she would never complain and give her new squad the satisfaction of thinking that she couldn’t cut it.

  Katie saw that it was fast approaching 2230 hours. She had a long walk to the motor pool so decided that it might be advantageous for her to start out now. Not wanting to disturb those women already asleep, she quietly left the tent and went out into the night.

  Once outside, she took a deep breath. It was a beautiful, hot night and quelling her nervousness, she felt a twinge of excitement as she looked up at the vast expanse of black, star-studded sky.

  Chapter Six

  Setting off, Katie walked away from the tents and turned onto the main Camp Roosevelt road leading to Camp Churchill. As usual, the base was a hive of activity, with torchlight flickering here and there as personnel made their way about the camp, the roar of aircraft engines and the whup-whup of helicopter rotor blades slapping at the air as they took off from the distant airfield. In the background, was the constant—almost comforting—thud of generators keeping the electricity going.

  As Katie walked along briskly—boots kicking up clouds of shimmering dust and sand—she kept an eye on the time and eventually turned onto the long road leading to the motor pool, breathing easily and glad that she had made the effort to keep fit.

  She was halfway along the road when she heard somebody call out from behind her. Startled that someone knew her, she stopped and turned around to see Corporal Dan Reed jogging toward her.

  “Hey,” he greeted, grinning at her as he reached her. “Need some company?”

  Katie hesitated, aware that for her to turn up with a man would send Joe into a tailspin, but then she dismissed the thought.

  So what? She was not about to isolate herself from anyone because Joe had said so and because he might not like it. He would have to deal with it.

  “Yes, thanks,” she replied and they both continued on with the walk toward the motor pool.

  “So, where are you from?” Dan Reed asked.

  Reluctant to answer or get into a conversation with the young corporal and reminding herself to be careful about what she did say, Katie replied, “I’m originally from the UK but due to family reasons I transferred from the British army to the US marines. I’ve lived in Virginia for the last year or so.”

  “Nice place,” Corporal Reed responded.

  Katie nodded. “It is. Where are you from?”

  “Chicago,” Corporal Reed answered. “My family is there.”

  Katie and was grateful when a few meters ahead, the glare of the security lights of the motor pool came into view, and there was no need for her to answer any further awkward questions. There was a milling group of marines and Joe and Sergeant Eastman were standing nearby. Taking a deep breath and preparing herself, she followed Corporal Reed across the road and joined the other members of the squad.

  As she arrived, Joe gave her and the young corporal a hard, interrogative stare—as though he had been watching and waiting for her, his expression one of anger—then dismissed her and turn to continue to speak to his sergeant.

  Turning away, Katie acknowledged some nodded greetings from a number of marines but noted that the majority of the men still ignored her. She guessed that they had never had a woman go out with them on patrol before or perhaps had never had a female member on their squad period, and they were both unsure of how to treat her and how to deal with her.

  She mentally shrugged. That’s their problem. I’m here to do my job and to rescue my husband.

  Corporal Reed remained standing beside her as though he had labeled himself her protector. As nice as he was, Katie felt uncomfortable knowing that Joe was well aware of the young corporal’s attention.

  She watched as Joe turned to face them and stand motionless, hands on his hips, facial features taut and grim.

  “Okay, marines, listen up.”

  The men instantly became silent and attentive, and Katie received the impression that her new squad respected her husband and paid attention to what he had to say. She felt an unwanted surge of pride at Joe’s obvious leadership skills and a pang of loss that this man might not be hers anymore.

  “The patrol is a go, no abort given. An LMTV will be here in twenty, so go for a smoke, get your equipment sorted out, and collect your rations and water from over there.” Joe pointed to a Land Rover idling nearby. “Okay, get moving.”

  As he finished speaking, he turned his back on Katie to speak to Sergeant Eastman, and Katie—glaring at him—wondered if he could feel the daggers that she was throwing at him with her gaze.

  Corporal Reed said, “The Old Man seems a bit uptight tonight.”

  It wasn’t a direct question but a statement, and Katie—startled at the comment—shrugged.

  “I don’t know the man so I can’t say,” she lied, hopefully convincingly.

  “Yeah,” Corporal Reed continued. “He’s usually a pretty okay guy, jokes and mucks around with us guys, but tonight he looks like he’s pretty pissed at something.”

  Everyone waited in line at the Land Rover to collect extra meals ready-to-eat—MREs—and bottles of water, placing the rations into already bulging packs. As they were finishing, a truck pulled up beside them, engine rumbling.

  “All right, let’s move!” Sergeant Eastman yelled. “Load up!”

  Keeping her eyes away from Joe—determined not to glance in his direction—Katie joined the line of men at the rear of the two-and-a-half-ton truck who were waiting for the tailgate to be unlocked and lowered. Each marine then hoisted himself onboard. Corporal Reed was directly in front of Katie and once he had climbed aboard, he turned and reached down a helping hand to her.

  Grateful for the assistance, Katie put the toe of her boot into a metal groove at the base of the tailgate and, grasping Dan’s arm, boosted herself up into the interior of the truck. As she was halfway up, she felt a hand on her backside give her a final push. It startled her and once she was inside, she spun round to see who it had been and saw that it was Joe.

  Flushing slightly, she said stiltedly, “Thank you, Staff Sergeant,” and sat down on the bench beside Corporal Reed, turning her gaze away from her husband and pretending to study the interior of the truck. She rested her weapon across her thighs, leaning forward slightly—as were all the others—their rucksacks too heavy and cumbersome to allow anyone to settle back comfortably against the canvas sides of the truck.

  Joe and Sergeant Eastman were the last to board, seating themselves directly opposite Katie, which made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Turning her gaze away, she heard the tailgate crash into place and lock, the engine rev up, and the truck pulled away, making the short journey to the first checkpoint. Katie glanced out of the back of the truck at the receding lights of the base and felt her nerves kick in.

  This was her first patrol with her new squad and she was not embarrassed to admit to herself that she was terrified. There had been no time to get to know the other marines—to bond and gain their trust and respect—of paramount importance if they were to watch each other’s backs in a hostile situation. She tried to remind herself how she had dealt with her fears when involved in firefights on her last deployment. The situation was no different now and she needed to clamp down on any panic before it began to get out of control.

  She turned away from her view of the receding base, glanced down at her hands clenched tightly on her weapon then looked up, straight into Joe’s eyes as he stared at her intently from beneath his helmet, head lowered so that no one could see where his gaze was directed.

  Katie lowered her own head
and stared back—unflinching. Their eyes locked for long seconds—neither backing down—until the truck jolted to a halt at the first checkpoint and Katie eventually turned away. As she did so, a marine seated two persons away from her suddenly asked in a sarcastic tone, “You gonna be able to save our lives, Corporal Anderson?”

  As the truck rumbled off again, Katie leaned forward, angered at the question, and focused her gaze on the man who had asked it. As she glared at him, he began to look distinctly uncomfortable.

  “If you get shot or blown up you’ll find out won’t you?” Katie eventually responded and her answer caused a few chuckles to come from some of the other men.

  Joe immediately went on the attack at the unfortunate marine.

  “Shut that crap up, Murray. I hear you say something like that again, I’ll kick your ass from here to Hell. Understand me?”

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant,” Lance Corporal Murray replied, and turned to study his weapon rather intently.

  Joe glared at the unfortunate marine for a few more seconds, then he turned his head to look out of the back of the truck.

  She wondered—with some confusion—what her husband’s game was. It was as though he was two different people. On the one hand there was the man who had callously walked out on her and his daughter, who had planned the whole thing in secret over a period of weeks, probably almost as soon as he had returned from Afghanistan because he would have had to obtain his orders and have his flights arranged, all without a word to his family.

  The other Joe was the one that she remembered, the one who couldn’t keep his eyes off her and who defended her at the slightest provocation. She didn’t understand him but promised herself that eventually she would get him alone and find out if it was the last thing she did.

  The truck stopped abruptly at the second checkpoint and Joe got to his feet.