by C. C. Brown
I read her letter every night before I attempted sleep, and many mornings her letter was still in my hands when I woke. It was my only piece of normalcy, and I had to hold tight to it or else I would succumb to the insanity of where I was.
Good news finally came a few weeks later when First Sergeant Keating informed me that I’d be pinning on Staff Sergeant. Unfortunately, because of the nature of our surroundings, there would be no ceremony. I’d be pinned, and that would be that. I was okay with it, considering only a couple of months earlier, I thought I’d never see this promotion. If they decided to pin me in the middle of a deserted street, I’d take it.
I met First Sergeant Keating and our Company Commander, Captain Lucas, in their work quarters. Captain Lucas greeted me with a warm handshake, but First Sergeant Keating was a little milder. We hadn’t spoken about our blow up since the night it happened, but there was a thin layer of friction between us that was mutually shared, so the relationship was business only. We were the only people in the room, solidifying the fact that the pomp and circumstance of my previous promotions was an after-thought.
Captain Lucas held my warrant in his hand as he approached me. “Because of our circumstances, we’ll just do a small and quick promotion for you, Sergeant Cruz.”
First Sergeant Keating read the award warrant—long, drawn out, and lacking any real sort of emotion. The man was overworked and unenthusiastic about almost everything he did, but I didn’t care because, at the end of this, I would finally have my rank. They both stood, one at each of my sides, and removed the Sergeant chevrons from my collar and replaced them with the Staff Sergeant chevrons: three chevrons with the cross rifles in the middle and a rocker on the bottom. This was a moment of pride, and one that I thought would never come.
First Sergeant O’Hara gave every ounce of himself to try and keep me from attaining my rank, but alas, he’d failed, and the feel of it sitting on my collar was the ultimate testament to everything I’d given to the Corps with a mighty fuck you to O’Hara to go along with it.
“Anything you’d like to say, Staff Sergeant Cruz?” Keating asked.
“Just thank you,” I responded, remaining composed.
“All right, get your ass back to work,” Keating said, turning away and going back to work.
I left the building and headed straight for the phone center, not wanting to wait a second longer before sharing the big news with Cassie. If my ceremony had been at home, she would have been the person to pin me, but since that couldn’t happen, I wanted to make sure she was the first person to hear about it.
The phone rang and rang before a very tired voice answered on the other line. I didn’t bother to check the time, nor did I really give a shit. My excitement was through the roof, and the one and only person who I cared to share it with was halfway across the world.
“Hello…”
“Hey, Blondie!” I responded. “Guess what finally fucking happened?”
“What?”
“Your man just pinned on the rocker, baby. I’m a fucking Staff Sergeant now.”
“What?” her voice finally awakened. “Are you serious? You got it?”
“I fucking got it. E-six, baby. E-six.”
“I’m so proud of you, Alex. So damn proud. And it’s good because we’ve got—”
Guys were coming in left and right, yelling that we needed to saddle up and go—now! The commotion had everyone dropping their calls in a frenzy, leaving me no choice but to do the same.
“Blondie, I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll call back when I can.”
“Alex—”
The line went dead. I looked up to find some huge fucking Gunny holding down the line. “All Marines out, now!”
Whatever was going on was serious, so I knew that this was not the time to start shit. I ran to my tent, dressed in my gear and met up at the motor pool. We stood in formation, heated air pummeling our faces. First Sergeant Keating had the same emotionless face staring back at us, only his voice carried a spark that I hadn’t heard since we’d gotten into our altercation over Avery.
“Marines, there is too much fucking activity happening outside of these walls. These motherfuckers are relentless, if not stupid, but regardless, we need to ramp up the pressure on these assholes. The contractors are a done deal, but we know they are planning more shit, and earlier this afternoon, some of your brothers were ambushed. They came out alive, but the activity hasn’t let up, so we’re sending more of you out to crush this shit.”
“Oorah! Oorah, First Sergeant!” A chorus of yells. “Get some!”
The motivation was through the fucking roof, and I would have been lying if I said the echo of the calls wasn’t resonating with me, sending goose bumps surging up all over my arms, prompting me to yell out with them. I’d seen more than my share of the shit this place could dish out, but the fact that the terrorists were growing bolder, almost as if they were no longer afraid of what we were capable of, infuriated and excited me all at once.
“We’re gonna show these bastards that they’re messing with the baddest motherfuckers to ever walk this earth!” Vega yelled out, clasping my shoulder as we walked out to our assigned vehicle.
“Fucking right!” I responded, bounding into the back of the Humvee.
The vehicle pulled off of the base grounds, dropping us into the heart of the town of Fallujah. There was nothing out of the ordinary; a busy town center with kids playing soccer, shoppers shopping, and patrons sitting curbside as they sipped tea and enjoyed conversation. To the untrained eye, it would almost exude a very American feel, except I had been before, and I had seen what this scene could instantly turn into.
On my first deployment, I had been on patrol in an environment not much different from this one, and in the blink of an eye, a woman had blown herself and about fifty other people up when she detonated the suicide bomb strapped to her body. Because the women were always covered, it was easy for them to mix in with the crowd and go undetected until it was too late. Our training had taught us to watch for suspicious activity and excess movement. Unfortunately, with a crowd in this tight space, it wasn’t always easy to watch out for the wrong doers.
We took off on our patrol route, casing the area for any activity that could be deemed as threatening. The farther away from the town center that we strayed, the less activity that there was to be found.
It was hot—that was a fucking understatement since it was always hot, but today seemed hotter than usual. White had Avery close to him, and thankfully, while he was still scared of every fucking thing that moved, he’d learned to compose himself.
“Man, we should stop for some water,” Vega suggested, pulling out his canteen.
I halted the rest of the platoon who stood in the ready position while Vega hydrated. The winds were picking up, and sand was flying everywhere. I silently prayed that it kept to a minimum. An Iraqi sandstorm was the last thing we needed being out in the middle of Fallujah. Sandstorms put a halt on everything because visibility went down to zero and getting back to a vehicle becomes damn near impossible, leaving us vulnerable to any attack by desperate insurgents. My life had become one of casual paranoia, always aware of the dangers lurking behind the scenes, and desperate to survive in a land where many lives were claimed on a daily basis.
“I’m ready,” Vega announced, sticking his canteen back into the pocket on his Kevlar.
We humped all the way to the edge of the city, weaving in and out of residential streets, but finding nothing of much importance. As we began our descent back to the city center, I struck up conversation with Vega.
“How long have you been with your girl, man?”
“Going on five years now. We’ve been together since high school.”
“What’s kept you from marrying her?”
“She was in college back home and didn’t want to up and move out to Twentynine. I couldn’t blame her. The place is a shithole.”
“Hey…” White chimed in, “I met my wife in Twentynine. She’s the
best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You met your wife in Twentynine?” Vega asked, almost as if he were disgusted by this newfound information.
“Yep, met her at the Twentynine Palms car show. She had a kick ass Chevelle in the show, and I fell in love.”
We laughed as his face relived that fateful moment, smiling wide with a dreamy look in his eye.
“Did you fall in love with her or with the damn car?” I asked.
“Both, but I can’t fuck the car, so I guess I fell harder for her.” We all laughed, knowing full well that he was serious. “When I get home, I’m buying and restoring a Shelby.”
“What about your kid on the way?” Vega asked.
“I’ll let him ride in it,” White joked, making us all laugh again. “No kids for you, Staff Sergeant?”
“Nope, no kids.”
“Look at you. Raking in all of this Staff pay and no one to spend it on.”
“Well, I’ve got a girlfriend but no kids. We’re gonna wait a while on that. She’s active, so we need to plan shit out first.”
“Makes sense.”
We strolled back into the edge of the residential portion of the city where the boys who were playing soccer continued to play. We caught their attention, making them abandon their game and sprint over to us.
“Mister…mister! Chocolate, mister?”
We immediately went into defense mode until the kids held up their hands and showed that they were unarmed.
“I have nothing,” Vega responded, shrugging his shoulders.
“Please, Mister.”
“Here you go,” I called out, holding out a handful of jolly ranchers. It wasn’t chocolate, but these fucking kids were begging, and beggars couldn’t be choosy.
They snatched them up in a hurry, scratching the palm of my hand in the process. One boy stood back, disappointment filling his face. He stuck his tongue out at me before turning and running off with the other boys, their mouths full of candy and shouting at one another in a friendly Arabic tone.
“I can’t wait ‘til I’m home, sitting up and drinking a beer,” White said, starting conversation again.
“A beer? Your ass is nineteen, you little shit,” Vega joked.
“Yeah, but my wife is twenty-one.”
I was quickly learning that White, while he was a little hardened from being battle tested, was also a joker. His look may have reminded me of Dalton, but his personality was Riley all the way. Hanging out and patrolling with these guys made me miss my boys back home. I missed the camaraderie, the binge fests…the shit talk. I missed it all.
“What about you, Avery?”
“What about me?” he asked quietly, refusing to look any of us in the eye. He was a strange fucking guy, and even though he had reigned in his fear, his demeanor never put me at ease.
“What do you have waiting for you at home?” White asked sarcastically.
“Nothing. A barracks room.”
“Well, aren’t you just full of fucking excitement,” I chided, annoyed with him and his lack of any sort of emotion. I knew he hated Iraq. Hell, we all did, but his attitude was downright dreadful.
“I’m sorry, Staff Sergeant. I just…I miss home.”
“We all do, boy. Suck your shit up and do your time. Be thankful this isn’t a full deployment and we’ll all get out of here sooner rather than later.”
“Up ahead, Staff Sergeant,” White called out, raising his weapon.
There were a couple of young boys running our way. They raised their hands as they approached, breathing hard with eyes bulging from their faces.
“Mister, please come. Please.”
“What is it?” I asked, skeptical but wanting to appear helpful.
“Trouble, sir. Please come, Mister.”
We followed the boys around the corner of a house, where the rest of the boys stood, none of them moving an inch.
“That man, Mister,” the boy said, pointing to an older man walking away from the house.
“Hey,” I barked at the man, startling him. “Ta-aal.”
He turned and slowly began walking our way. I motioned for him to raise his hands, showing that he wasn’t armed with anything that could potentially harm any of us.
“Qef?” I asked the young boy, wanting to know exactly why we were apprehending the man.
“Bomb, Mister. Bomb.”
“Anya?”
“There,” the boy responded, pointing in the direction of where the man was seen fleeing from.
There was no such thing as being too careful, and I knew that one false move, or even just a stroke of bad luck, and this could be it for me.
Silence was prevalent as I cautiously approached the place where the boy said the bomb was located, and my boots crunching on dead grass was the only sound permeating my ear drums. It was as if the world turned silent; no voices and no noises. Just me, my boots and the crunch. My stomach tossed with every step I took, my heart beating erratically as I edged closer to my demise. If this were how I would go out, it sucked to fucking high heaven.
Flashes of Cassie’s beautiful face filled my mind. I wanted to remember the good in my life, not what I was ultimately coming face to face with.
After walking what felt like the green mile, I spotted a black trash bag sitting out in the open field behind the house. It blew in the wind, finally being swept up into the air with a strong gust. My stalled heart began to beat again with the realization that there was nothing but trash in that bag and that the man had been stopped as he was trying to take it out. Frustration and anger sped through my body as I realized that I gotten myself worked up over nothing. I hurried back to where the guys were holding the man and the boy.
“There was nothing there,” I growled, scowling at the boy. “Did you check him? If he’s clean, you can let him go.”
“He’s good, Staff Sergeant,” Vega responded.
The man thanked us, then turned and walked back off in the direction that we had found him. The boy broke out in a fit of laughter, holding his belly as he pointed at me, further pissing me off.
“You scared, American soldier. You so very scared.”
I lost my shit, grabbing the boy and planting my face square with his. “This is not a fucking game! You don’t fuck around like that! You can cost one of my fucking guys their lives, or even yours. You understand that? I ought to whoop your little ass—”
“Staff Sergeant, put him down,” Vega called out.
It took me a second to realize what he was saying. My anger was clouding my mind. I had just stepped over to what I presumed to be a device meant to destroy me and my fucking boys, and this shithead kid could do nothing but laugh because he had set me up all along. I wanted to teach his little ass a lesson, but there was nothing I could do that wouldn’t come back to me with dire consequences.
Once I released the boy, he stood there and continued to laugh, pointing at me as he did so. The fury inside of me brewed to the surface, spilling out as I stepped in front of him, praying to myself to find some self-control before I did something I would absolutely regret. My hands lunged for him before I could think straight, pushing him down to the ground as I placed my knee into his back. I would restrain him and allow someone else to deal with his ass because if I did anything to satisfy my mind, my career would be over in a heartbeat.
“Let him go, Staff Sergeant. Let go,” White called out. He and Vega pulled me off the boy.
Avery stood with his weapon in the ready position pointed at the boy. His eyes bulged, and his breathing labored, but there was a relative calm about him. I couldn’t say the same about myself. This kid had riled me up and there was no bringing me back from it—not at the moment.
“You can’t do that,” Vega chimed in, pulling on my arm. “You’ll start all kinds of shit.”
“Fuck that kid and fuck the rules!” I yelled back. “Do you have any fucking idea what that shit head just sent us through? I just walked into a would-be trap. That kid deserves
to have his little ass kicked.”
Vega turned me around, switching positions with me. We stared into one another’s eyes, both wide with adrenaline, stern faced and breathing hard.
“I know, but we’ve got to—”
Vega’s hand shot up to his neck, his speech slurring as he panted for breath. He fell to the ground, his hand now filled with his own blood, erupting from his neck.
“Sniper fire! Sniper fire!” I yelled. “Call for Corpsman! Call for Corpsman!”
I had no idea who made the call. My sole focus was on Vega as I pulled him into the corridor for safety. Blood splattered on my hands, chest and face—the metallic smell and taste all too familiar to me. Vega was in bad shape, his breathing labored as he lay in my arms.
“Hold on, Vega. Help is coming, man. Hold on.”
I applied pressure to the wound and performed CPR, but nothing seemed to help him. The blood, no matter how much pressure I applied, continued to spurt from his neck. He began to shake uncontrollably as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I tried again to perform CPR on him, this time bringing him back to me.
“You fucking hold on! You’re one of the baddest motherfuckers to ever walk the earth, so you fight, dammit!” Blood gurgled in his mouth, splashing my face once again.
Gun shots rattled off just outside of the corridor as our boys engaged in an intense fire fight with the insurgents who had done this to Vega. Dust kicked up as I watched Avery take cover and fire off a few rounds. Vega’s struggle for breath brought me back to him. He inhaled deeply, gasping for breath as the blood leaving his neck continued to flow.
Christen finally made his way inside the corridor, firing off a couple of shots before he could safely make his way inside. Vega began shaking uncontrollably as the blood pooled in his open mouth and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Vega was a damn good Marine and had too much to live for to go out like this.
“Help him, Doc! Fucking help him!” I cried out, my voice emotional and pleading.
Petty Officer Christen dropped to his knees and applied stronger pressure to Vega’s neck, but the laborious breaths coming from his body only a minute later were no more. I frantically tried to open his eyes and get him to come back once again, but it was in vain. I wouldn’t allow myself to reconcile my mind with his death, and I pushed Christen off of him and began to apply CPR to him once again.