Walking out thirty minutes later, the four of us headed back to our tent to prepare for the re-assignment. We had two hours to pack up and get our gear to the helicopter port. We’d be transported by an old MI-8 helicopter to the new base. Helicopter flying was not my favorite mode of transportation, even knowing we’d have armed coverage. Rubbing the back of my neck, I cleared my mind focusing on the tasks at hand.
Jon looked over at me and said, “Damn, man. You only had two more months to go. At least this assignment is temporary. Sarge said four weeks at the most.”
“It’s all good,” I replied, my mind already wrapping around the duty. Opening my footlocker, I halted at the pictures inside. Several of the class and a growing number of photographs of Brooke. Beautiful Brooke. Throwing my things inside, I called out, “Gotta get to the communication tent and send an email to Brooke to let her know I’ll be out of contact for a month.”
Taking off at a run, I pounded down the dusty lane, quickly throwing open the door and rushing inside. Another soldier was just finishing, and I shouted for him to not disconnect. Sliding into his now empty seat with hasty thanks, I fired off an email to Brooke. As I hurried back to the bunk, I knew it would be the longest month of my life.
Two weeks later, I pushed open the tent flap, closing it quickly behind me. Exhaustion pulled at my body as I crawled onto my cot, fully dressed. I’d eaten a quick meal before heading to my tent, knowing once I landed on my cot I would not want to get back up.
The work was steady as the birds flew mission after mission and we were responsible for making sure they were working and armed.
The Apaches required constant servicing and arming, both duties taking a toll on those of us working in shifts around the clock. The fighting had intensified and I had to admit, the war felt real up here. Back on the main base, it was easy to forget that the war was raging around us when we were insulated. While I knew danger lurked, I always felt safe there.
But here? Jesus, the war was much closer…too close to be honest. I knew the pilots were tired…hell, we all were. But no one complained. There was a job to do and we all did it.
The base was tiny compared to where we had been and I’d give my paycheck for a good cup of hot coffee. Or a really hot shower. But what I really missed were the letters. I wanted to see Brooke’s now familiar handwriting on the envelope and hear more about her life. Hell, I wanted to read the notes from the kids. Somehow in just a few months, they had all become important to me. Yeah…I’d definitely give my paycheck for a letter to give me a mental break from this hell-hole.
Our tent only held four Army cots and the back of it was pressed up against the sides of the tunnel partially dug in the mountainside. Stacked sandbags lined the front and sides, providing little relief from the cold, but would hopefully keep stray bullets from penetrating.
The cold seeped in more than before and we slept fully clothed just to stay warm. Rolling to my side, I leaned my arm out and flipped open my locker. That was how I wanted to go to sleep…with Brooke’s face smiling straight at me. I had read and re-read the kids’ letters, finding that I missed hearing about them.
Jon staggered in as well, flopping onto his cot, the groans of the wooden slats meeting the groans coming from his mouth.
“Only two more weeks to go,” I said, but wasn’t sure he heard me. He began snoring almost instantly. Looking at Brooke’s picture one last time before I went to sleep, I reached out and touched her smiling face, anxious for the time when I could touch her skin for real.
A week later, the sounds of yelling jarred me awake and I sat up quickly, throwing my legs over the side of the cot just as Jon did the same. An explosion close by had us jumping up and grabbing our helmets. Racing from the tent, I looked down the path to where the birds were lined up, pilots climbing aboard.
“Jesus Christ, they’ve got missiles!” Jon screamed as we watched an explosion rock the earth not far from one of the Apaches.
How the hell the Taliban managed to get a rocket this close to the base I had no idea, but there was no time to think of anything other than to get to where we were needed.
We heard the familiar roar of the main rotors and turboshaft engines as the pilots readied the birds to take off. The Apaches flying out meant that they would need immediate maintenance and re-arming when they returned.
Our boots pounded the path when another whistling missile sounded. Refusing to stop to see where it landed, we kept running. The explosion hit close by, the side of the mountain spewing out in all directions. Throwing ourselves to the ground, we protected our bodies as best as we could until the earth stopped shaking. I could hear the sound of people yelling to stay down, but I had a job to do. Leaping to my feet, I continued to race toward the airfield.
Two of the birds had taken off and I knew within minutes the threat would be taken care of—the Taliban fire would be as extinct as the men doing the firing. Rounding the back of one of the Apaches, furthest from the others, I saw the pilot climbing in and ran over.
One more incoming missile sounded, this time hitting too close to the Apache next to me. As pieces of it flew apart in the explosion, my world went black.
Beeping. Fuzzy voices. “Specialist Miller. Ethan. Can you hear me?”
Who’s Miller? I floated along, remembering one summer when some buddies and I inner-tubed down a lazy river near our hometown. Weightless, boneless.
Alarms sounding. Can’t someone turn them off? I opened my eyes but was unable to focus on anything. A dark-haired woman stood next to me, her smile seemed wrong. Shouldn’t she have blonde hair? Confusion set in as I tried to think of why her hair color mattered.
She reached out and touched my brow before turning back to the beeping monitors. I wanted to tell her to make them quiet, but my mouth did not work.
“Specialist Miller? We’re taking off now. We’ll see to your comfort and let us know what you need.”
I need to sleep. People sound so far away. I must be underwater. That’s right – I was floating and must have my head underwater. The river is so peaceful. I think I’ll stay here.
I awoke in Germany. Or, to be exact, a military hospital in Germany. I felt no pain, but then, I felt almost nothing. It took a while for me to figure out who I was, where I was, or remember what happened, but when I did, the first thing I did was jerk my gaze down over my body. Two arms. Two legs. Lifting one hand to my head, I noted it was still intact and with the other hand lifting the sheet, I saw my dick. Okay…all present and accounted for.
My left leg was fucked up though and the thought slammed into me that I might not get to keep it. Metal pins stuck out of it and encircled the entire leg from thigh to ankle. I felt no pain in my leg, but then I realized I couldn’t feel my leg at all.
My mouth felt stuffed with cotton and the goddamn beeping was still present. Fumbling around underneath the sheet, I found the nurse’s buzzer and pressed it continually. In just a moment one arrived, her smile appearing genuine to my distraught mind.
“Specialist Miller, it’s good to see you awake—”
“My leg…what’s happening to my leg?” I croaked, not recognizing my hoarse voice.
She moved to the side of the bed and picked up a cup of water with a straw. “Here, sip.”
I wanted to refuse, but the desire to quench my dry throat won out and I gulped the water. She pulled it away just as nausea hit.
“I said sip for a reason,” she softly chided. “You’re on a morphine drip to control pain and it can make you nauseous. I’ll have the doctor send an order for anti-nausea meds.”
I was stuck in bed, unable to move, my chest heaving from the exertion of just sipping the water. Closing my eyes, willing the room to stop swaying, I asked again, “My leg. What’s going on with my leg?”
“I’ll get the surgeon,” and before I could stop her, she left the room. I dozed for an indeterminate amount of time, but the next time I awoke, the surgeon was examining my leg. The medical jargon he spouted d
id nothing to alleviate my concern, but the most important news he gave indicated they had been successful in saving my life and my leg. Thank God, they saved my fuckin’ leg! Nothing else he said after that mattered as I drifted back to sleep.
This time my dreams of floating continued, but now they were invaded by images of a beautiful blonde with green eyes standing on the shore waving as I drifted on by, unable to stop.
Chapter 8
(April – Brooke)
My energy for teaching was at an all-time low.
I sat watching the children work on their science homework, knowing state assessments were in less than a month and all I wanted to do was lay in bed. The kids missed getting a letter from Ethan this month even though I explained that he had sent me an email weeks ago, letting me know he was going to be out of communication—whatever that meant! All I knew was that he was going to be away from mail or email for weeks.
Sighing, I looked up at the large clock on the wall and rang the bell on my desk. Time for them to go to music class. As the last child walked out of our room, following the music teacher, I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes.
I missed Ethan. There was no other reason for my general malaise. I wasn’t sick…just heartsick. I could no longer pretend that my feelings for him were just platonic…nope, I was in love and had never met him in person!
I stared at his picture every night before I went to bed, always sleeping in his t-shirt. It no longer smelled like him, having been washed a dozen times but the super-soft material clung to me in my dreams making me feel closer to him.
Opening my eyes, I spied the large calendar by the classroom door and knew that today marked a month since he had sent the email. Maybe…just maybe, he’ll get back in touch this week.
Emily’s wedding was a week away and I needed to pull myself out of my slump. Ethan is working…doing what he needs to do and I’ve got to get a grip! Sucking in a deep breath while standing, I walked down the hall to retrieve my class. Greeting them at the door of the music room, I smiled as they lined up.
“Did we get a letter from Specialist Miller?” Nicole asked, her eyes wide and hopeful. “You’re smiling!”
My face fell as I realized how much the kids had picked up on my mood. “Oh, I’m so sorry, but no. He’s still out of touch.” I watched their smiles droop as well and as we entered the room, I clapped my hands together. “Come on, everyone. We have lots to do to keep us active.” Drawing them into a history game, I was determined to hide my blue mood from my students.
A week later, I still had not heard from Ethan. And what was worse was not having any idea what had happened nor having a way to find out. I had sent emails, assuming he would get them when he was able to be back in contact. But no replies. He had mentioned one friend named Jon but, with no last name, I had no one else to try to contact.
Sitting on my sofa with my legs curled up underneath me, I poured over his Facebook page, wondering if there was anyone I could contact. But then a thought began to slither through my mind…what if he’s avoiding me? Biting my fingernail, I battled this notion, not wanting to consider that perhaps he realized how close he was to getting out of the Army and coming to see me was no longer something he wanted to do.
The front door opened and Emily entered, followed by Chris, her fiancé. Looking over at me, she grinned until she saw me curled in on myself in the corner of the sofa.
“Oh, Brooke, no word yet?”
Forcing a smile on my face, I shook my head, attempting a carefree expression. I think I may have failed. Clearing my throat, I tried to change the subject. “Are you guys moving some things out today?”
Emily walked over and sat on the coffee table, taking my hands in hers. “Yeah,” she said softly, her eyes searching mine. “But I feel bad, because I know this is hard on you.”
“Oh, my goodness,” I exclaimed, squeezing her hands in return. “Do not feel bad! I’m fine. Absolutely fine.” Looking over to Chris, I smiled, adding, “You two have lots to be excited about and I, for one, am extremely thrilled about your upcoming wedding!”
I watched as Emily and Chris shared a smile, glad for her that she had found someone to share her life with. “So, what do you need help with?” I asked, hopping up from the sofa.
Most of the furniture was mine, so it did not take long to get Emily’s belongings loaded into Chris’ truck. Standing on the sidewalk, I hugged both of them. As Chris hopped into the driver’s seat, I walked Emily around to the other side. With one last hug, I promised to see her in a week at the rehearsal dinner.
I waved as they drove away before turning to walk back into my apartment…all alone. Plopping down on the sofa, I began to wallow in self-pity and doubt. Who am I kidding? What kind of a relationship do I really have with Ethan?
Being alone isn’t always bad, but being lonely hurt. I wanted someone to share my life with. Someone to share my ups and downs, good times and difficult ones. And even though he was on the other side of the world, Ethan was beginning to fill that role. Are we at the beginning of something wonderful or am I pinning my hopes on an impossible dream? My empty apartment offered no words of comfort.
The students were once more bouncing off the wall since spring break would begin at the end of this school day. My mind was filled with all that I had to get done, so I knew I was as distracted as the children. As soon as they leave, I have to hurry home to get ready for Emily’s rehearsal dinner, then be a bridesmaid in tomorrow’s wedding, and then finally have a week off to enjoy.
With only thirty minutes left before the buses came, I rang for the students to gather in their semi-circle. “Okay, everyone. Let’s talk about what you plan on doing with a whole week out of school.”
Hands shot toward the sky, as each child anxiously wanted to share. Plans for beach trips, visits to grandparents, vacations to Disney World, and even a cruise filled the air.
“What about you, Miss Thompson?” one of the students asked.
Smiling, I replied, “Well, it probably won’t sound like fun to you, but my best friend and roommate is getting married tomorrow, so I’ll be in the wedding as a bridesmaid and get to have fun at the reception, which is like a big party.”
“Oooh, do you get to wear a pretty dress?” Chloe asked.
“Yes,” I nodded. “And I’ll get to dance and eat good food, including wedding cake.”
“I wanted Specialist Miller to come visit and then you two could get married,” Nicole said, her mouth in a pout.
I hid my disappointment behind a forced chuckle. “Oh, sweetie, Specialist Miller and I were just friends.”
“Were? You’re not anymore?” Chad piped up, astute as ever.
“Oh, I mean, are…we are friends,” I corrected, making sure to emphasize the present. Sucking in a ragged breath, I was thrilled when the end-of-day bell rang. The students raced to their desks, grabbing whatever they needed and filed out the door. I stood with a group of teachers on the sidewalk, waving as the buses drove away, just as eager for spring break as the children were.
Just a little more than twenty-four hours later, I had finished the reception dinner, given my bride and groom toast, and danced with just about every eligible bachelor at the wedding. Finally, taking a break, I found a table near the corner of the reception hall and plopped down in a chair wearily. My last dance partner had complimented how my light green bridesmaid dress made my eyes even more beautiful and all I could think about was Ethan when he told me how much he loved my eyes. Smoothing my hands over the silk material, knowing the dress was perfect for my curves, I realized that not one partner had sparked any interest in me at all. I looked at each one and found him lacking when compared to a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular soldier with sky-blue eyes.
Sighing, I cast my view over the dance floor and watched as Emily and Chris moved slowly together, their arms wrapped around each other, completely oblivious to everyone else in the room. Smiling at their tangible love, I took another sip of champagne from the fl
utes being offered by the roving wait staff.
As the song ended, the DJ announced it was time to send off the bride and groom. The assembly gathered along the walkway leading to the limousine, and I had to push my way to the front to make sure I saw them off. Emily rushed over to give me one last hug before being swept away by Chris. As I watched them drive away, my breath caught in my throat as a single tear escaped. Life was changing, but I felt no joy…only emptiness.
It was almost one o’clock in the morning when the taxi dropped me off at my apartment, slightly tipsy from too much champagne. As soon as I made it through the door, I bent over and slipped off my sky-high heels. Moaning as my bare feet dug into the carpet, I wiggled my toes, working out the kinks.
Smiling at the memory of the beautiful wedding, I looked around at the décor that was now all my own. Tomorrow I need to continue my search for finding a roommate!
Walking over to my laptop sitting on the coffee table, I decided that since I wasn’t sleepy, there was no time like the present to see if anyone had answered my ad for a roommate. Opening my laptop, I leaned back against the cushions, propping my feet on the sofa next to me. Checking my emails, I scrolled through the spam, the ads, the bills, and…huh? There was one from someone named Jon with a military email address. Jon? Ethan’s friend?
With my heart drumming in my chest, I clicked on his name.
Brooke Thompson,
I have been trying to find the correct Brooke that is a friend of SPC Ethan Miller of the U.S. Army. I did not have your contact information but found an old envelope with the Eastville Elementary school return address and searched you down from that. I needed to let you know that Ethan was injured about five weeks ago while we were on duty. He was sent to Germany for surgery and is now at Walter Reed Medical Center in Maryland. I have not spoken to him, but know that he would want you to know.
Class of Love (Letters From Home Series Book 1) Page 6