34. Will
CHAPTER 34
WILL
“THICKFREAKNESS” - THE BLACK KEYS
S and, sand, and well...more sand. It covers the painstakingly barren land we’re stationed on like finely ground flour. It coats everything, including my lungs; I can feel the muck of it in my eyes, up my nose, and in other equally undesirable places.
Aside from the heat and the danger, the sand is the worst part of this whole thing. It’s not just a matter of comfort either, it’s insidious, slowly working its way into your clothes, gear—hell, even into my brain. Not literally, but it’s all I can think about when I’m not solely focused on staying alive.
I stare off into the distance and imagine shapes, people, places being erected from the vast nothingness. I imagine counting the sand and how representative it is of the millions of people populating the earth. Those people that I’m here to protect, to honor, the ones who’ve sacrificed. Then there’s Cam—how did I get her, out of all the people, when I’m not even deserving.
We’ve spent the last week in and out of towns, hiding in abandoned buildings demolished by war, and in plain sight while we travel. Our caravan consists of three Humvees, a supply truck, and a couple of MRAPs, which are essentially indestructible Humvees. We brought the essentials needed to set up a forward-operating base, and while one team has worked to fortify our location with makeshift sandbag walls and fencing, my team has established basic communications.
Progress has been steady and mostly in uninhabited places. Too uninhabited. It’s eerily quiet, given that it’s the local terrorist stronghold; it’s not as if they don’t know we’re here. Their lack of engagement is unsettling at best, downright bone-chilling at worst.
I find myself wishing for some type of response, and yet I’m paralyzed by the thought of not making it home. I sense the same from the rest of the team. It’s the old adage: sitting ducks. We are waiting on a team to arrive for the mission that we will accompany them on, just hoping we don’t get attacked in the meantime.
Thatch should be here. He always made days like this go by a little bit quicker. He’d crack a joke or do something stupid that would cut the tension, bringing us back from the fear if only for a few minutes.
A thud from a foam ball hits my shoulder. I turn to face Ramos. “Shifts up, hit the hay, man,” he says, solemnly.
“Thanks. Head on a swivel...it’s too quiet. I don’t like it.” I gesture for him to keep his eyes peeled on the horizon, to watch for threats.
“Yeah.” One word and a nod. He doesn’t have to say anything else. He gets it.
Traipsing through the sand toward the bunk tent, my legs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. Lying on my cot is worse than keeping watch. My head hits the bedroll and all thoughts immediately turn to Cam. I wonder if Bri talked to her, if she knows how I feel. Or does she think I just left? Is she moving on because I broke her once and for all?
Replaying that day we left, it’s obvious there were so many times I could’ve called—should’ve called. There was time while I was driving, waiting on Ruiz, when we first got to the strip. Why did I think I didn’t have time? What made me wait?
I didn’t have doubts about her then, and I still don’t have them now. Am I really that dense and in my own world that I let time go by, allowing her to possibly believe she wasn’t important? Even if Bri talked to her, what happened has got to sound like the lamest excuse someone has ever given for leaving without saying a goodbye.
I’ve thought over every minute of our time together, from the instant I saw her at the country bar to leaving without a word, pondering all the things I should’ve done better. And yet, I’m unbelievably thankful for those days together. I’ve spent the last five years of my life operating like a machine. Always knowing what’s expected of me and following through on every mission.
I can come up with only one excuse for not making a better effort, and it doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of being a good one: I was protecting myself. It sounds messed up. Telling her how I feel would seemingly have been better for my mental status going into this deployment, and yet the thought of hearing the pain in her voice when I told her I couldn’t make it to hug her one last time...I guess I couldn’t do it. Sure, not knowing where we stand is miserable, but at the time, wondering if this would be the thing to send her running...I chickened out.
Tossing and turning, I attempt to get comfortable in what is decidedly the hardest cot on the planet. My pillow is lumpy and filled with sand. My skin crawls with sweat, dirt, and a variety of bugs that somehow maneuver past the mosquito nets. A few guys are playing cards, cheering loudly just a few feet away from where I’m attempting uselessly to sleep. If you long to know what hell is like, come here.
Thankfully, one of the first skills you learn as a soldier is to fall asleep quickly and under any conditions. I feel the ache in my bones start to ease, and I sense that sleep is not far from me. Pulling my sleep sack up over my face to shut out any light, I begin to drift away when—bang! The sound of truck doors slamming and new voices approaching has me groaning to no one but myself. Dammit, they’re here. Now the real work begins.
“Rise and shine, give God the glory, boys. We brief in ten. Get your gear and be ready to roll out!” Montgomery shouts to everyone and no one in particular.
Taking a few deep breaths to steady my nerves and revive myself from the sheer lack of sleep, I toss back the cover of my sleep sack and swing my legs over to the floor, forcing myself upright. Smith spots me from his cot a few down from mine, determination shines in his eyes. He is ready and tells me without a word to buck up, it’s time to roll.
Grabbing my vest, helmet, and gear, I make my way with the rest of our team to the MWR tent. We usually use this space to blow off some steam, workout, or eat, but since space is limited it’s now a makeshift briefing room. We stand silently, waiting to be addressed, when a beast of a man waltzes in and introduces himself as Chief. No one knows where he got the nickname, but based on the sheer size of him and the way he commands the room, it’s fitting.
Chief explains the mission: We are going into the nearest town to break up a meeting of the local leaders and heads of a well-known terrorist cell. He tells Montgomery our primary job is to keep comms up in case shit goes sideways and to provide cover if necessary. His team will do the heavy lifting, going in hot under what’s presumed to be a heavily guarded meeting.
The situation isn’t really a new one, they always seem to be heavily guarded. However, it’s tricky because local leaders are not to be harmed. In the hustle and chaos of everything, ensuring half the attendees’ safety is not easily guaranteed, but harming them would all but secure their reliance on the terrorist group and instantaneously make us the “bad guys.”
Pictures circulate around the room, clearly indicating who the primary targets are. Outside of these few, anyone else who engages first is fair game. I commit the images to memory and pass them along to Butler, standing beside me.
Grabbing my shoulder, Smith asks, “Ready to rock?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be. You got everything you need?”
“Yep...let’s load up and get this shit over with.” He turns to move toward our vehicle.
We pile into the Humvee in silence, breathing through the fear and steeling ourselves for what’s to come.
Driving into what appears to be an abandoned town tells me everything I need to know. This group has the locals living in fear, so much so that not a single person can be seen out on the street. They’ve taken to hiding in their homes, just hoping to survive.
We stop behind a tall concrete building that looks to have several apartments or homes in it. It’s not where we are ultimately going, but it’s a good place to hide the vehicles and we’re still close enough if we need to make a break for it quickly. Sliding out, I check my vest, weapon, and helmet one more time. Smith is hauling the radio box that transmits our walkies, so our unit slides in around him to keep him secure.
Moving like this is something we’ve practiced more times than I can count. We are a well-oiled machine, we’ve trained for this, we will survive . At least that’s what I continue to tell myself, over and over again, to ease the fear and give myself the ability to breathe rather than panic.
During missions like this, we operate using hand signals so we draw the least amount of attention. The silence is necessary yet deafening. The only sound is the faint shuffling of boots and my own heartbeat thumping rapidly.
Quickly approaching the abandoned building that is serving as the meeting location, we set up on the perimeter while the team in charge moves inside. I scan the space around us on repeat, looking for threats—really, anything out of place—while we wait.
Smith turns the receiver’s volume on, setting it to low so we can hear the comms in our ear pieces but not loud enough for anyone else within close range to hear.
More silence mixed with faint sounds of boots inside the building thumping upstairs.
Out of nowhere, the sound of bullets clanking off metal echoes in my ears. Next, the crackle of Chief calling for a medic, shouting, “Man down!” and asking for back up. A quick signal from Montgomery pointing at Butler and me tells us to head into the unknown.
We move quickly, smashing our backs up against the wall and scanning each room we enter for threats. Finding the stairs, we head up. I’m facing forward, weapon raised, as Butler walks up backward to ensure we aren’t being followed.
We take three flights at an expeditious pace, halting when we see the medic working on Ray. He motions for us to go forward and meet up with the rest of the team and that he’s watching our backs. Side by side, Butler and I take the stairs two at a time. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins and gone is any fear that lingered before coming into the building.
We make eye contact with Chief, and he motions for us to begin clearing rooms. We are drawing blanks at every turn until the sound of gunfire once again rains down around us. Glancing at Butler, I see him nod, and we begin to make our way toward the sound and the remainder of the team we are backing up.
I go first, peering into the small room where all targets appear to be neutralized. I’m lowering my weapon, as Chief and his team have done, when a whirring sound buzzes from behind me, past my ear and toward Scout, one of Chief’s men. Turning quickly, my weapon raised, I see Butler fire off a couple of rounds, neutralizing the target across the hall. But not before they get two shots off.
It’s like slow motion. I can see the shots buzzing toward me, and yet there isn’t enough time to move out of the way. The sound is what I notice first—my flesh being broken and penetrated—followed by the searing pain in my shoulder and left bicep. Stunned, I look at Butler and see his mouth moving, making the word medic , but I hear nothing.
My ears are ringing, my wounds are oozing, and the world is turning to shades of gray around me. Butler jams a rag up against my shoulder and arm, pressing with all his might, deepening the ache. My teeth start to chatter as I slowly slink down to the floor.
“Stay with me...” The words Butler is shouting at me are faint, but I can hear them. Thank God I can hear something. Helping me to my feet, the team surrounds me as we make our way down and out of the building. I don’t know how, but I’m walking. I have to walk, to move, to get the hell out of here before the world fades to black.
Seeing it fading around me, in and out, I know the time is coming and it’s close. The rag pressed on my wounds is soaked through, all the life I have is seeping out of me at a rapid clip. We clear the building and Smith is in my face. His words are like whispers as the light fades.
My knees buckle first, plunging me into the powdery dirt. My eyes close as my body is being rolled over, images of Cam flashing in my mind. Her smiling, laughing, the scent of her lingering in my nose. She’s the best person I know, selfless and caring. She’s the light in all the dark around me. All the things I wish I would have said bounce around in my mind like colorful ribbons dancing around a dark room. Then the world goes black.