by Bart Gauvin
Time to go before they try to set me up with one of the boys back home, Kristen thought.
“Well, it’s wonderful to hear your voice, mamma and pappa, but I need to go back to the apartment and make my own Christmas cheer.”
“Don’t be lonely, Kristen,” mamma said. “You know we always love it when you come home for the holiday.
“I know, mamma, but with the Games this year and the minister’s health it was just too much. Maybe I can make a quick flight home in the spring, after it’s all over.”
“We’ll look forward to it, Kristen. Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas, mamma.”
CHAPTER 19
2030 EST, Friday 24 December 1993
0130 Zulu (Saturday 25 December)
Dwyer Hill, Ontario Canada
SNOW WAS FALLING softly outside the cozy Roy house, nestled into the small family housing area just up the road from Joint Task Force 2’s unassuming, rural base west of Ottawa. Sergeant David Strong sat, sleepy from the delicious meal and happier than he’d felt in months. Indeed, he’d been at ease ever since arriving at the home of his team’s medic for Christmas Eve supper. The single-story dwelling was tastefully decorated with just a couple of strands of colorful lights, along with a wreath at the front door and candles in the windows. The scene reminded him of some of the happier moments of his childhood.
Felix Roy welcomed him, his massive frame making the cramped entryway feel even smaller as David removed his boots and coat, snow dusting the foyer. That was when pandemonium enveloped them. Before David knew what was happening the four Roy children clustered around his ankles, pulling at his discarded outer garments and arguing in a bewildering mix of youthful French and English with each other over the right to ask their guest his drink preferences. A firm word from Marie, Felix’s wife, dispersed them, or rather displaced them to another room of the house where the noise continued unabated. Then she greeted David warmly in her lyrical Québécois-accented English with an embrace and a kiss on each cheek.
She was a beautiful woman, as petite as her husband was huge. She moved with a graceful confidence that seemed to create an aura of peace in the small household. David’s appreciation of her was bittersweet. She and Felix reminded him of the domestic tranquility he hadn’t found in his own life.
Marie, before returning to the kitchen and keeping the children in line with periodic forays to the back of the house, ushered David and Felix into the small living room. “Bear” and his wife sat on the couch good-naturedly teasing Will “Crash” Tenny about the spectacular termination of his latest relationship. The Browns’ toddler played on the floor at their feet. David and Felix didn’t contribute much to the joshing conversation but laughed at the jokes and enjoyed the company all the same. The group had developed a good work dynamic over the past year, but David was always awkward in a non-military setting.
Before too long Marie’s voice summoned them to the dining room where every spare chair in the house was crammed around a table set with a feast consisting of tourtière, a sort of meat pie, a meatball and gravy stew that Marie called ragoût de boulettes, maple syrup pie, fried potatoes, pea soup, and a yule log cake for dessert. The smells had been tempting the guests since they arrived and now the hour of their deliverance was at hand.
At one end of the table, Felix bowed his head. Everyone else followed suit, and he blessed the food according to his Catholic tradition. Then he produced a bottle of red wine for the meal, a sore point for David. According to regulations and JTF 2’s own internal policies, members of the unit were forbidden from consuming alcohol while on recall status, as they were now. David opened his mouth to object to this breach of discipline but thought better of it when he saw his medic pour a small glass for the oldest of the children, giving her the honor of taking the first sip this Christmas Eve. They’re French Canadian, he rationalized. Wine with a meal isn’t really alcohol to them, I suppose. This supposition was confirmed when Felix circumnavigated the cramped table, filling everyone’s glass in turn.
David realized that the other two members of his team were looking at him out of the corner of their eyes, waiting to see if he would drink the wine. Corporals Brown and Tenny clearly wanted to imbibe but were wary of their sergeant’s reaction. Part of Strong’s reputation, his identity even, was as a stickler for upholding rules and regulations. Doing otherwise made him uncomfortable. Once again, Felix forced his hand, raising his glass from the head of the table and wishing everyone a “Joyeux Noel!”
Almost in reflex, David raised the glass to his lips, tasting the wine. That was all the other two needed. They each drank as well, and Strong thought he saw the hint of a smile at his expense on Tenny’s face. Regardless, the tension was broken. David wasn’t particularly happy about it, but then, he wasn’t particularly unhappy either. They all sat down and began passing the food. Each person’s knees bumped those of their neighbor, but no one minded in the festive, communal atmosphere the Roys had created.
The meal was Felix and Marie’s idea. The four men of Joint Task Force 2 had been on alert since the beginning of December when the Soviets began conducting their global readiness exercises. That meant none of the Canadian commandos were allowed to travel more than an hour from the base. Even then, everyone was required to sign out at their squadron’s staff duty desk, detailing where they would be and how they could be reached in an emergency. Strong and the other team leaders were even issued some of the new pagers that the task force had purchased to speed their recall. David was at least thankful that his team was being held in readiness at Dwyer Hill, rather than spending the time cooped up at the Halifax naval base from whence they were likely to deploy in wartime. With no one allowed to travel home over the holidays, the Roys decided to provide the family atmosphere most people craved this time of year.
Now, two hours later, Strong patted his full belly as he sat alone in the Roy’s living room. Felix and Marie were putting their excited children to bed with remonstrations that Santa would come more quickly if they went right to sleep. The Browns had departed after dinner, their toddler nearly asleep in Bear’s arms, and Tenny followed them out a few minutes later saying that he needed to call his mother in Vancouver. David wasn’t ready for the evening to end quite yet. Now, as he heard the Roys lulling the youngest of their children to sleep, he suddenly realized he was intruding. It’s Christmas Eve! They don’t want me here.
The sergeant stood up to leave but realized the children had carried his coat somewhere into the house and he didn’t know where it was. He awkwardly sat back down on the couch. After a few more minutes in which Strong berated himself quietly for his lack of social tact, he heard Felix’s heavy footfalls coming from the rear of the small house. He stood as the big man appeared in the living room, carrying another bottle of red wine. Strong opened his mouth to make his excuses, but before he could speak the medic rumbled, “Would you share a glass with me, Sergeant?”
Strong paused. Dinner was one thing. A drink by itself. “Better not, Felix. We’re on recall,” he reminded his master corporal.
“Yes,” acknowledged Roy in his Québécois accent, “but it’s Christmas Eve, non? Besides, I was at the aid station this morning and the commander was there. I overheard him tell the surgeon that we will stand down if the Russians don’t pull anything by tomorrow. We can take our chances.” His tone was relaxed as he stepped over to a china cabinet wedged into a corner of the small room and retrieved three wine glasses. The big man paused and David saw him also pull out what looked like a bottle of whiskey. Roy apparently thought better of it, however, and David thought he saw the ghost of a smile on his face as he replaced the whiskey bottle in the cabinet. Instead, Felix deftly uncorked the wine bottle and poured himself and David a small glass each.
Accepting the proffered drink with reluctance, David tried to be at ease. He should be at ease. This was an opportunity to try and build a fri
endship, something he craved.
Their four-man team, now honed to a fine edge could anticipate each other’s’ moves and idiosyncrasies in the field, but here in the living room of a cozy family home Strong felt like a bit of a stranger, even to himself.
Roy, taking a seat across from Strong, was the rock of the team.
Strong sighed and took a sip of the wine.
Roy smiled. “See? Not so hard.”
“What?” David asked, but he knew.
“To live a little. Be a rebel now and then. Not concern yourself with what the next evaluation report says,” said Felix, leaning over and giving Strong a soft punch on the shoulder.
“It’s that obvious, eh?” David asked sheepishly, flushing.
Felix looked down, still smiling. “Maybe a little,” he said. Then he went on, “You know you don’t have to work so hard to impress us. We all have great respect for you. You’ve built a good team. A great team. I’ve heard the commander say so. He respects you too. Do you ever plan to lighten up on yourself?” And on the rest of us, Roy didn’t say, but Strong could sense it.
“I don’t know how,” the sergeant admitted in a moment of honesty. “I’ve never been able to before. I’ve just always been trying to get to the next achievement, I guess. Did the commander really say that?”
Roy chuckled a little and nodded.
Strong paused for a moment, then asked, “How do you do it, Felix? How are you so confident in yourself all the time, so natural around everyone? The way you talk to your kids is the same as the way you talk to the colonel.”
Felix cocked his head towards the kitchen, saying nothing for a moment. David could hear the sounds of Marie starting to clean up from the meal, dishes clinking and water running in the sink.
“My reason is in there,” said Felix, indicating the kitchen. “I doubt myself every day. We all do. We’re men. It’s what we do.” The big man paused, then went on, “But then I get to come home to a wife every night who makes me feel like I’m her knight in shining armor, and four kids who seem to think that the highlight of their day is when I walk through the front door. It does wonders for the self-confidence, let me tell you,” he said with a grin.
David took another sip of the wine. “Well, I haven’t got a wife,” he said lamely. “Haven’t even had a girlfriend since I was just out of high school.”
“Why not?” asked Felix, genuinely surprised. “Trust me. You’re not going to find a girl by spending all your hours at work. You need to get out. Go dancing! Show the girls out there who David Strong really is.” Roy raised his glass towards his sergeant and took a swallow of wine by way of demonstration.
David was suddenly distracted by a mental image of Felix’s huge frame doing moves at some Montreal discotheque. He raised his wineglass to his lips to hide a creeping smile.
Felix turned serious, though still maintaining a warm tone. “Look, David, you don’t need to impress anyone. You,” he pointed a finger at David’s chest, “are an amazing team leader, the best sergeant I’ve worked with. You have so much to be proud of.”
Strong considered what Roy was saying. “I don’t know how to let up, Felix,” he said. “I’ve been doing this for so long, it’s just become who I am.”
Felix looked his team leader in the eye and said, “Who you are, Sergeant David Strong, is a fine soldier. I think you may be the only one who doesn’t fully grasp that. Don’t fret about being chummy with the rest of us. You’re not our friend really, not in the usual sense anyway. That doesn’t mean we don’t like you or you don’t like us. Quite the opposite, really. What it boils down to is this: you need to be able to put us into danger when the time comes. It’s your job to balance our lives against the mission. You can’t be worried about what we’ll think when you’re making a decision to finish the job.” Felix sipped his wine and then leaned forward, locking eyes with his team leader. “On the other hand,” Felix’s eyes twinkled, “we don’t want you worrying about what the commander or anyone else will think when you have to make the call to pull us out before the mission’s done, eh?”
David smiled as the bigger man patted him on the shoulder. He appreciated the encouragement, particularly because he saw the ways that the master corporal supported him at work, keeping the other two team members in line when they could have begun complaining.
“Thanks Felix,” the sergeant said, before throwing back the last of his wine. Then, “I really appreciate you. I don’t know that I could hold the team together without you.”
“You would do just fine,” assured Felix.
“Maybe,” David allowed. It wouldn’t be as painless. Then he stood. “I’d better be going. I imagine you have better Christmas Eve plans than listening to me mope.”
Roy stood too. “You don’t think I opened this bottle just for you, eh? I have a date with my wife to put the gifts under the tree. And, if I’m good, and the wine does its usual tricks on my woman, I should have a nice Christmas Eve too,” he said with a wink.
“Felix!” came the indignant cry from the kitchen.
“Yes, well, you best be going,” the big medic said quickly, retrieving David’s coat from the hallway where the children had stowed it away inside a bench.
David stepped out the door, then turned and offered the master corporal his hand. “Merry Christmas, Felix,” he said. Then seeing Marie over Felix’s shoulder, he called, “and thank you Marie for a wonderful meal.”
“Merry Christmas, David,” they both said in near unison.
David turned to walk to his car as the door closed lightly behind him. He took a moment to savor the lightly falling snow and the crisp cold. It had been a wonderful evening. That talk with Felix hadn’t been what he’d expected, but was encouraging nonetheless. He’d enjoyed the wine, his first sip of alcohol in several weeks, but there was a small twinge of fear for the reprimand he expected if his superiors found out about his breach of discipline.
Then Strong smiled to himself, remembering Roy’s admonition to worry less about what others, superiors or otherwise, thought of him. The recall will be over tomorrow, anyway, he thought. It’s not as if the Russians are going to do anything. The packed snow on the walkway squeaked under his feet.
CHAPTER 20
1705 EST, Wednesday 5 January 1994
2205 Zulu
Times Tower, New York City, New York, USA
EVIDENCE OF THE 1994 New Year’s celebration still hung between the desks in the New York Times buzzing newsroom as Jack Young worked to meet the deadline for the morning edition. The reporter needed just a few more minutes for a final read-through before he handed in his copy. As he looked up, he could see the assistant editor making the rounds to crack the whip on delinquents like him. Jack hated to hand in a product that actually needed editing. The routine foreign policy piece would probably be buried somewhere on page A4 where readers would see it only after digesting all of the stories detailing city politics, NFL playoff news, probably the Dear Abby column, and the domestic political drama consuming the president and congress in the aftermath of the midterm elections. Who knew the contested end to the election two years ago would have such a lasting impact, Jack reflected.
The article before him was one he’d been ruminating over since returning from the former Yugoslavia in November. The collapse of the peace process was turning that country into another Poland. He wanted to write something that connected all the dots across Europe, that tried to make sense of the tense situation in which the continent found itself. He looked back down at the text on the small screen of his Xerox word processor and began reading from the beginning:
EUROPE STEPS BACK FROM CRISIS AS WORLD UNREST GROWS
Jack Young, reporter
President Pavel Medvedev has ordered a worldwide stand down of Soviet military forces following last month’s major exercises, which showed a surprising level of capability and rea
diness. The Soviet Defense Minister, Marshal Aleksandr Rosla, declared the drills a success, saying that they had demonstrated the USSR’s “reinvigorated ability to deter aggression from any quarter, but especially from the west,” where the Soviets continue to view NATO with a wary eye, questioning the alliance’s defensive purpose after the reunification of Germany three years ago.
Despite the marshal’s stated mistrust, President Medvedev and his government have significantly softened their rhetoric since the middle of last month. US State Department officials have noted that the Soviet president apparently dropped one of his staple demands: That a united Germany withdraw from NATO as a precondition for normalized relations. This softened stance has led some experts to speculate that last month’s worrying build-up of military activity might have been the last gasp of a Soviet administration that is belatedly learning the lesson its predecessors already knew: the USSR can no longer compete with the west in any sphere save the military one, and the dramatic conclusion to the Persian Gulf War three years ago brings even that assumption into question.
Lending credence to this interpretation is President Medvedev’s call for talks with the US to re-negotiate the treaty limiting conventional forces in Europe. One administration official stated that the US would be amenable to such an agreement, provided the Soviets cease their interference in the internal affairs of Poland and the states of the former Yugoslavia, where UN peacekeepers are struggling to contain growing violence. Many pundits note that the US military, increasingly challenged to respond to contingencies all over the world, would likely welcome such an outcome. So far, the Kremlin has given no firm indication of any shift in Soviet policy concerning these two flashpoints, maintaining instead the official story that “the Soviet Union is not interfering in the affairs of any state, but supports in spirit the rights of those in Eastern Europe who are resisting the fascist tendencies of their governments. Even so, many European and some American diplomats are quick to interpret the relaxed Soviet tone, accompanied by the military stand down, as a major step towards lasting peace in Europe.