Chapter 15 #2
If we were going to talk about this, we were at least going to be comfortable. I leaned back against the headboard, propping some pillows behind my back, then held out an arm to Forest. He immediately took me up on the invitation, nestling against me with his head on my shoulder.
“Before the accident, I had nightmares too. We all did. It’s impossible to go into combat and see death and destruction and come away unharmed. It scars you, some more than others. But the nightmares would all be different. They were never the same. But since the accident…”
I was searching for words, but Forest sat quietly, giving me time to collect my thoughts and find the right verbiage to say what I had never told anyone. Not my brothers, Dayton, or even the Army therapist I’d talked to.
“I wasn’t there when it happened. Not on site, I mean.
I was in a different building, being briefed about a joint training exercise we’d be taking part in.
Later, I found out that Private Watts had failed to check each firearm after a training exercise, and one went off near a couple of boxes of ammunition.
The whole thing went up in flames. When I heard the explosion… ”
My hands grew clammy and my heart sped up at the memory, my body instantly reliving the deathly terror that had taken hold of me. But despite that, I’d acted quickly, my years of training and experience kicking in. If you froze in combat, you were dead, so I’d been conditioned to act.
“I knew it was bad, and all I could do as I ran toward where the sound had come from was pray that my men would be safe. But they weren’t… I saw Tameron first. He was screaming and covering his ears. Blood was dripping down his fingers, but he was alert and alive. Then I saw Creek…”
My throat was so tight, every swallow was painful, like swallowing glass.
“He wasn’t moving, and blood was gushing out of what remained of his leg.
I yelled for a medic while I knelt next to him and immediately put a tourniquet on.
He woke up from the pain, screaming, but I had to ignore him to make sure he would live.
I carefully dragged him away because I’d seen who he was covering with his body.
Bean. He was unconscious, and initially, he seemed to have only superficial wounds, thanks to Creek. ”
“Bean told me my brother saved his life,” Forest said quietly.
“He did. I’ll never understand how he reacted that quickly, but he dove right on top of him as the big blast came. If he hadn’t, Bean would’ve been dead. Instead, it was Creek who took the force of the impact, though we only later realized Bean hadn’t exactly come out unscathed.”
“Creek’s injuries were much more obvious…”
I was getting to the hardest part, the words that would forever change how Forest saw me. Any illusion that I was the good guy, that I had nothing to do with the accident, would be gone after this. But I couldn’t hold back the words. Forest deserved the truth.
I took a deep breath. “They were, and so I focused on Creek. The medic came, and he was loaded into an ambulance, and I rode with him. He drifted in and out of consciousness, partially thanks to the painkillers they’d given him.
Just before they wheeled him into the OR, he looked at me and said, ‘I told you that fucker would get us killed.’ And he was right.
He’d warned me about Watts. Repeatedly. And it wasn’t that I didn’t believe him.
I’d worked with Watts myself, and he was an arrogant asshole who thought he already knew everything, but unfortunately, that’s not enough to kick someone out of the Army.
If it were, half the military would be gone.
So in the end, I told Creek there was nothing we could do about it at the time and ordered him to stay on top of him.
And he did. Creek rode Watt’s ass hard, but he couldn’t have prevented this.
That’s on me. I should’ve taken Creek’s warnings more seriously.
I should’ve gotten Watts removed. Instead, I made it your brother’s problem… and it almost cost him his life.”
My shoulders hunched, the stress slowly seeping out of my body. “That’s the nightmare I keep having, that they’re all dead and it’s my fault. I missed something. I didn’t pay enough attention. And it hurts because it’s true. Creek, Bean, and Tameron got hurt because I didn’t do my job…”
Silence fell, and I blew out a breath. What did Forest think of me now? Would he blame me for Creek getting hurt? He had every right to.
“What happened to Watts?” he asked instead, surprising me.
“To Watts? He was dishonorably discharged as soon as we confirmed he’d been at fault.”
“So the Army agreed it was his fault?”
Oh, I saw where he was going with this. “Of course the primary cause was his arrogance and ineptitude. If he’d done his goddamn job the way he’d been taught, none of it would’ve happened. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t at fault too. I failed as a leader.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “But the Army never disciplined you or whatever it’s called?”
“No, because technically, I did nothing wrong. But that doesn’t mean I’m not responsible. They got injured on my watch…”
And I would never forgive myself, but I figured Forest had gotten that message already. No need to repeat it.
“Okay, so in hindsight, what should you have done differently to prevent the accident? You said you should’ve taken Creek’s warnings more seriously, but what would that’ve looked like?”
That was a good question, actually. It wasn’t that I had disagreed with Creek on Watt’s attitude or performance. He had been an arrogant, lazy asshole who’d tried to cut corners from day one. And I had warned him, written him up, and had even reported him as a concern to Captain Bransford.
But Bransford had told me we didn’t have enough to get Watts discharged, and he’d been right. The Army couldn’t act on hunches and gut feelings, no matter how experienced their platoon leaders were. There were procedures to follow, and that had been my order to Creek.
And I had stressed it had to be done by the book, knowing that when the day came, I wanted there to be a clear record of every time Watts had fucked up and been reprimanded.
Except the next time he’d made a mistake, it resulted in disastrous consequences. It had been too late.
The truth seeped into me, like water trickling through a burst in a dam.
I had followed procedures.
I’d let Creek handle it, then reprimanded Watts myself and written him up.
Again. And when that hadn’t resulted in the change I’d wanted to see, I had run it up the chain of command and pleaded our case to Captain Bransford.
But he’d made clear we didn’t have enough yet, and so I had been given clear orders… and had executed them, as had Creek.
So what could I have done differently? Short of disobeying a direct order, what alternative had there been?
None.
Nobody could’ve known Watts would be that incompetent, that deliberately negligent with such catastrophic results. Not Creek, not me, and not Captain Bransford.
It had been…an accident.
My shoulders sagged as my eyes grew misty. “I don’t know,” I finally whispered. “I don’t know what I could’ve done differently, but they got hurt on my watch, under my command, and that’s…”
But if I finished that line of reasoning, Creek had been his direct superior.
If I considered myself guilty, despite knowing Captain Bransford had been consulted and had denied our request to have Watts fired, then by the same line of reasoning, Creek would be guilty too.
He sent the problem up the chain of command, as I had done, and we had both carried out the orders we’d been given.
But not even Captain Bransford was at fault. He’d been right. He’d even run it by the JAG Corps, and they’d made it clear we needed more concrete proof.
Tears dripped down my face, but I didn’t bother wiping them because they felt freeing, as if they were helping me let go of something. A weight I had been carrying.
“It’s not your fault,” Forest whispered, his warm breath ghosting over my bare chest. My nipples hardened in response, but I ignored that.
“No, it’s not.” I forced the words out. “I feel responsible and at fault, but I’m not…”
“But it’s not easy to let go of that guilt.”
“It’s the hardest thing in the world. I love those guys more than anything, and to see them get hurt and struggle… It’s been so hard to watch. I often feel so helpless, like I’m not doing enough to help them.”
“Oh, Nash, don’t you realize how much you’ve done for them? You were their compass when they were lost, their North Star. Their whole universe circled around you. You were the stability they needed. But they’re ready to fly the nest and explore the world on their own.”
“I know.” Then, softer, “I know. But I hadn’t expected to feel this…empty without them. This lost. Like I’ve somehow lost my own compass.”
Forest was quiet for a while, but it didn’t bother me. I liked that he didn’t feel the need to always fill every silence with words, that he was as comfortable with the quiet as I was.
Finally, he said, “Not to beat that universe metaphor to death, but maybe without them, the center of your gravity has shifted, and you’ll need to find your own path, your own orbit.”
I let that sink in. “That’s an apt metaphor, actually, and you’re right. It has.”
“So give it time, Nash. You’ll figure it out.”
I could only hope he was right about that part too, though I had to admit that sitting here with him like this, I felt a little less unmoored than I had in months.