For the Love of a Marine

by Sharon Kimbra Walsh

  Joe’s face suddenly appeared a bare few inches from her own. Enunciating each word slowly and clearly through clenched teeth, his eyes gleaming black in a pale face, he shouted, “Now! Fucking stay there and don’t fucking move, goddamnit!” For a few seconds his eyes locked with hers and she was stunned to see in them all the feelings that he had held hidden from her and which she had been longing to see. Speechless with terror, her body trembling all over, all she could do was nod silently.

  Joe backed away, still staring at her, then turned, and in a crouching run, returned to his men. Katie watched him go until he merged into the darkness and she could no longer see him then she scrabbled backward on her backside, using hands and boots until she was safely out of the way of the door. The engines wound up to a scream and the nose of the Chinook tilted up and they rose off the ground, hovered for a few seconds, leveled out and flew off at speed.

  Chapter Eight

  Katie wanted to cry out in protest at leaving Joe behind. She sat on the floor of the Chinook, gasping for air, head between her knees before she suddenly realized where she was. Eventually staggering to her feet, she moved to where the same trauma nurse who had assisted her on the ground attended to the third wounded marine.

  During the journey back, Katie knelt by her still-conscious charge. She spoke gently to him, pitching her voice just loud enough for him to hear, trying to keep his fears at bay, reassuring him and holding his hand when he reached up a trembling one of his own. On the surface, she managed to remain calm and detached but involved with the wounded man, but inside she was screaming with reaction from what she had just experienced on the ground.

  Finally, the Chinook began its descent toward the airfield at Base Independence and eventually landed with barely a jar on the apron. Waiting medics ran up the lowered ramp and into the Chinook, lifting the wounded marines on their stretchers back down onto firm ground and to waiting ambulances. They were driven to the CTH, where trauma teams were waiting outside the doors for them, and where they were taken directly to the trauma rooms for assessment while surgeons scrubbed for the inevitable surgeries.

  Katie and the CTT climbed tiredly into a Bulldog APC. They were driven immediately to the CTH. During the short journey back, Katie sat in silence. She found herself gripping her weapon so tightly that her knuckles ached. If she relaxed slightly, she began to tremble. Reaction had begun to set in and she found that she was breathing fast, at risk of hyperventilating. Closing her eyes briefly, she willed herself to breathe deeply and slowly, and eventually her pulse rate slowed and the trembling ceased. She could still remember the expression on Joe’s face as he had flung her into the helicopter, and for the first time was sure that he had developed the same feelings for her as she had for him. It did nothing to reassure her because she was safe for the moment, and he was still out there in the firefight and there was nothing she could do to prevent him from being hurt.

  Outside the CTH, Katie paused. Undoing the straps of her helmet, she took it off, running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. She gazed back out to the airfield and beyond, her thoughts and feelings in turmoil. She wanted desperately to be back out in the desert with Joe, as though by being with him and doing her job she could keep him safe. Her burgeoning feelings for him were raw and powerful, and for a brief moment, she felt a surge of worry for his safety. Eventually realizing that she was needed inside the CTH, she was about to go inside to check on the new casualties when the doors swung open and Sergeant Webster came out to join her.

  “Well, Katie, everything okay?” he asked, studying her closely.

  “I’m fine, thank you, Sergeant,” she answered. “Now.”

  “It’s always rough the first time out,” Sergeant Webster continued. “But you made it. Major Webster gave some good feedback about you. Well done.”

  “Yes, thank you, Sergeant,” Katie replied, feeling emotionless and empty. “How many casualties were there tonight?”

  “We have another six, including the three you picked up tonight, and we are bulging at the seams. Four gunshot wounds, one shrapnel and one amputee. The amputee is still in theater as we speak. The others are stable. Okay, you’re done for the night. Go back and get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow at 0700 hours.”

  “What about our new casualties?” Katie asked. “Shouldn’t I stay to give you a hand with them?”

  “Go. That’s an order,” Sergeant Webster reiterated and turned to go back into the CTH, leaving Katie alone.

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” she called after him, and turning, began to walk slowly down the road toward her tent, her emotions held severely in check, afraid that if she let thoughts of the events of the night intrude into her mind, she would break down. She trekked slowly back to her accommodation and went inside. Sighing heavily, she took off her helmet and placed it on the floor beside her bed then proceeded to quietly take off her body armor and combats, throwing them down to join the slightly rocking helmet. Suddenly exhausted, more so than she had ever been since she had begun her deployment, she sat down on the edge of her camp bed, wincing at the creak it made. The tent remained silent except for the soft breathing and slight snores from the other women.

  Standing up to put on her nightwear, Katie jumped as a torch came on from the direction of Wanda’s bed. “You okay, babe?” came a whispered question, tinged with concern.

  Katie sat down on the edge of her bed again, running a hand tiredly through her short hair. She hesitated before answering. “It’s been an awful night,” she eventually replied, equally quietly.

  “Want to talk about it?” Wanda asked. The torchlight jiggled and there was the rustle of a sleeping bag.

  “No. Go back to sleep, Wanda,” Katie replied slowly.

  The torch beam came closer and Wanda sat herself down beside her. “What’s up?” she asked.

  Katie sighed. “It’s all wrong,” she began. “Everything. We’ve had so many casualties lately, twenty I think at the last count, and two dead. Tonight they sent me out with a CTT. There was a firefight and I was caught in the middle of it. I was terrified, Wanda. I’ve never been under fire before. And then there’s—” She stopped suddenly, reluctant to proceed any further with the conversation.

  “Let me guess.” Wanda finished for her. “Then there’s the man.”

  Katie glanced sideways at her friend, just making out the woman’s pale face by the torchlight. “How do you know?” she asked. “Oh, wait, I forgot, nothing can get past you, right?”

  “I’m not entirely blind, you know,” Wanda answered. “I could tell lately by your mood and the way you’ve been acting that there was something up, man-wise. Plus, you keep looking around the mess whenever we go there. Who is he?”

  “Before I say anything, you have to promise me that this will go no further than you and me,” Katie stated firmly. “I mean it, Wanda.”

  Wanda huffed with exasperation. “Okay, okay. Now spill.”

  “His name is Joe Anderson,” Katie finally admitted. “A staff sergeant in the US Marines. About six feet tall, dark blue eyes, dark blond hair, quite attractive—actually very attractive. We met by chance at the CTH. He’d come in to see one of his men who’d been injured in an IED incident while out on patrol. We’d had a pretty traumatic time in the theaters that morning and I got sick, went outside and ended up throwing up. He found me—not very romantic, I must admit—and asked if I was okay. Anyway, we’ve met up in the mess a couple of times, he’s walked me back here a couple of times, and tonight when I went out with the CTT, it was his patrol that was involved in the firefight. He was pretty irate when he saw that I was there. Actually, he was furious. Nothing has happened between us, not even a kiss but…”

  “But,” Wanda echoed, “you’ve both fallen for each other, and from the way you’re talking, you’ve really got the hots for him.” Her final words were emphatic and all-knowing.

  “Wanda!” Katie exclaimed. “That’s a vulgar way of putting it. The truth is I’m exhausted and totally conf
used and scared. I promised myself that I would never get involved in a relationship while I was in the Army, but every time I meet this guy, it’s like all the promises I’ve made to myself fly out the window and I get angry for feeling like it. From his reaction tonight, I’m sure he feels the same way, but as I said, nothing has happened yet. Does that make any sense at all?”

  “It certainly does,” Wanda replied. “The best laid plans of mice and men and all that.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Katie asked, a slight note of desperation in her voice.

  “Well, love, I think you may have a problem.” Wanda paused. “A staff sergeant, huh? He must be a lot older than you.”

  “I think he’s about thirty-five or thirty-six, something like that. He’s hardly old enough to be my dad.” Katie felt defensive on Joe’s behalf.

  “Hey, don’t get touchy.” Wanda raised a hand in protest. “I’m only here to listen and help.”

  Katie hung her head. “Sorry,” she murmured. “The problem is that getting involved with someone out here is too complicated. There’s too much risk for the both of us. I’ve never really cared about men. I wanted to have a good Army career, move up the ranks, blah blah. You know the recruitment spiel, and now, everything has turned upside down. It’s all been so quick. I can’t think straight. I know it’s been quick but now, all I do is worry about him getting hurt when he’s out on patrol. It’s screwing up my concentration and I can’t afford that to happen in my job.”

  “My dear, what you need to do is get him out of your system—unrequited love and all that. The place, the time and the excitement of a relationship in a war setting is always far more passionate, but short-lived. What you need to do is get him alone, drag him into some nice dark place and have wild, passionate sex. Jump his bones. That should do it,” Wanda suggested matter-of-factly.

  Katie laughed quietly. “Wanda, that solution is so typical of you. You always go straight to the crux of the matter in as tactful a way as possible.” She paused, her laughter fading into silence. “I don’t think he would go for it. He’s been a perfect gentleman so far.”

  Wanda chuffed. “Katie, he’s a Yank. He’ll go for it. Trust me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Wanda. I’m not like that. I can’t just go to bed with a man unless there’s something there other than…just sex.”

  “Oh my, listen to you talking about sex,” Wanda teased, then, unusually for her, her tone became serious. “I can’t tell you what to do, my love, but methinks you’re heading for trouble. This is a dangerous place, and as you said, if it’s affecting your work, with the type of work you do, it’s going to cause all manner of crap to hit the fan. And he’s more at risk than you are.” Wanda paused then yawned. “Just remember, at the end of your tour and his, you’ll both be going your separate ways, not an auspicious future for a relationship.”

  Feeling suddenly unhappy at Wanda’s blunt words, Katie nodded. “You’re right,” she agreed, her voice sounding sad.

  Wanda placed a comforting hand on Katie’s shoulder. “You do have it bad,” she said again. “I can’t say I envy you, but when all is said and done, it’s your business, so I wish you luck. Now, I’m for bed. Try to get some sleep, sweetie. You look done in.”

  With that parting remark, Wanda rose from her friend’s bed and went back to her own. Katie sat alone in the dark for a few more minutes, wishing that Joe was with her, hoping that he was safe and that she would get to see him again. As much as Wanda’s words had been full of logic and common sense, she was not sure she could dismiss Joe as something casual, and that there was no future in their relationship.

  Eventually, Katie slid into her sleeping bag and lay down. Closing her eyes, she saw an image of Joe as he had been tonight out in the desert. She could picture his blue eyes so clearly, in parts so cold and hard, warring with emotions that he had not yet disclosed to her, and she shivered, with warmth and delight at the hidden feelings between them, yet to be brought into the open. Wanda’s words played in her head and she experienced a momentary pang of doubt about what she was doing.

  It was so hard to sleep. Her head and eyes ached and she was exhausted. The events of the night, including the terror she had experienced, had drained her. Plus she was anxious about her strengthening feelings for Joe. Can you fall for someone in so short a time? Can the fact that we’re both here in a war zone be the trigger for such passionate, intense feelings? Are the brass and Wanda right? Do these sorts of relationships fizzle out because there are no deep foundations for them? She tossed and turned, the thoughts turning over and over in her head. She could find no answers and eventually, irritated with trying to figure things out, fatigue finally overcame her and she slept.

  Chapter Nine

  As it did every day, Katie’s alarm clock rang at its usual time, waking her promptly. She lay in her sleeping bag for a few seconds, her mind blissfully blank, feeling the soreness in her elbows and knees where they had been in contact with the hard ground the night before. She was still tired, but knew that she had to get up and shower before the others.

  Gathering her resolve, she extracted herself from her sleeping bag and stood up. She stretched, easing the stiffness in her joints, collected her toilet kit and towel and made her way through the soundly sleeping women to the showers. Outside, she paused. Today, the air was cooler than it had been over the previous few days and it felt good against her bare skin.

  She felt a little low and washed out. Thoughts of the events from the previous night were once more present in her mind, with fleeting images interfering with her usual sense of calm detachment. The image of Joe was paramount in her thoughts, uppermost the question of whether he was safe or not.

  Hearing the tent coming to life behind her, she went into one of the showers and turned on the water. That morning she stood under the spray for some time, trying to relax and gather her composure, struggling to retrieve the sense of detachment that seemed to have shredded itself to pieces by the events of the last few days. She finally came to the conclusion that it had deserted her. She felt that elements of her life were speeding out of control and she was fast losing her grasp on the direction it was heading. Finally finishing her shower, she dried herself, dressed and went back to her bed space.

  Wanda was awake and offered a greeting. “How are you feeling?” she asked, glancing at her.

  “I could feel better,” Katie replied, attempting a small smile but failing miserably.

  “You’ll be fine, girl,” Wanda reassured gently. “There’s nothing in this world that can’t be sorted out.”

  Katie nodded and went about straightening her sleeping bag and sorting out her uniform for the day.

  Wanda wandered off to the showers, and when she returned, Katie was dressed and sitting on the edge of her bed.

  “Food?” Katie asked.

  As she dressed in her own uniform, Wanda nodded. Before many minutes had passed, the two women left the tent and were making their way toward the mess for breakfast. As they approached the building, Katie found herself looking around for Joe. She didn’t see him walking toward the building and once they were inside, she couldn’t see him seated at any of the tables. She refused to acknowledge the strong disappointment she felt or the anxious butterflies in her stomach that she felt at his absence. She purposefully engaged Wanda in small talk and spoke about their night out in the NAAFI that evening. However, always, at the back of her mind, was the image of the man with whom she thought she was falling in love, against all the principles and lifelong promises she had made to herself.

  * * * *

  On a distant part of the camp, on the concrete no-man’s-land between the perimeter wall and the barrier of concertina wire that protected the base, Joe Anderson ran as though his life depended on it. Other joggers ran past him in the opposite direction, or he swerved around them if they were heading in his, but he failed to acknowledge the morning greetings—in fact, barely noticed the other people around him. His iPod headphones
plugged into his ears, he barely heard the music blaring out its heavy beat. Sweat soaked his khaki T-shirt, trickled down his face and glistened on his tanned, well-muscled arms and legs, but he was oblivious to it. He was pushing himself, even though he was tired from the patrol of the previous night.

  He had arrived back from his patrol at midnight, having been extracted by helicopter, and had managed to catch four hours of restless, broken sleep then, wide awake before his alarm clock was due to go off and assailed by unsettling thoughts of Katie, he had gotten up from his camp bed. He was due to go on a patrol the next night and he had paperwork and the Warning Order—WARNO—to prepare and send out to all concerned, so, hoping that the paperwork would occupy his mind and keep treacherous thoughts of a green-eyed CTM at bay, he unearthed his laptop and spent two hours focusing on his work.

  Once he was finished, he found himself sitting aimlessly, not wanting to go to the mess in case he saw Katie, needing to get out and find something to do where he could sort out his feelings and thoughts about her before they became his undoing. He had eventually decided to go for a run, convincing himself that the air and space would help him to think.

  Now, he jogged along, his breathing easy and relaxed but his mind far from feeling at ease. Katie. How had she gotten under his skin so quickly? He could picture her stunning smile, her clear green eyes and the stubborn tilt of her chin when she became upset. He could even hear the clipped British tones of her voice. He finally had to admit to himself that he had fallen for her, had feelings that he had no business developing. In his usual analytical way, he listed the pros and cons of pursuing a relationship with the young woman. She was at least ten or eleven years younger than he. At the end of their tours they would each go their separate ways—he back to the US, she back to the UK. Long-distance relationships never worked—or so went the scuttlebutt. Another bad point to add to the list was that their relationship had started in a war zone, something that—although not banned by the brass—was frowned upon. One-night stands, if you could find somewhere away from other people, were the norm. Trying to maintain a long-term relationship was virtually impossible. The time and place were all wrong and a relationship would be intense and short-lived. His thoughts about her were destroying his concentration and his control while out in the field with his squad, and he couldn’t allow that to happen.