Chapter 6 #2
We’d been in the country for about three months.
It was a boring deployment, where more time was spent shooting-the-shit than actually running missions.
The one thing no one tells you about before signing up with a military branch is the concept of “hurry up and wait.” Everything seems like it’s rushed.
Go, go, go! Then, once you get where you’re supposed to go, now you have to wait.
Minutes, hours, days. Weeks. You wait for new plans.
Strategies. I never realized how much politics played into every fucking mission.
Can’t go there, that’s where so-and-so is from, and he gives us intel and/or money.
We have to wait until after this election, because someone somewhere ran on a no-war stance, so we can’t jeopardize his campaign.
That area of the country has too much oil, so avoid there.
This path is too close to that country that really hates us, more than the country we’re in that only mostly hates us. Great.
That day, we’d mostly been hanging out. There are only so many times you can go through your gear to ensure everything is in tip-top shape, and that day, we’d already done two workouts.
We had to stay in good physical shape, but couldn’t overextend ourselves, in case we got into a dogfight that required a lot of strength.
And frankly, there are only so many hours in the day before it all gets incredibly boring.
So, we end up doing things like playing cards.
Deployments taught me how to play poker, which still pisses my brother Dom off, because I almost always beat him on the rare occasion he hosts at his house.
Some guys worked on crafty things. Others had Kindles.
One guy had a notebook where he’d write poems, then turn them into lyrics.
After he got out, he sold a few country music songs.
I usually kept track of everyone, made sure our rucksacks were always organized and ready to go, and focused my energy into keeping calm.
When the call came down that we needed to mobilize immediately, I remember thinking it was odd.
Usually, we’d know exactly where we were going, and just needed to be given the green light to go.
This time, however, we were given a completely different location and target.
We scrambled, getting into our convoy in what seemed like seconds.
Less than an hour later, the world blew up.
There’s something about bombs they don’t fully show you in movies. I’d assumed an IED would be so astronomically loud that it would rob my vision and steal my hearing. I’d always thought it would feel like a wall of force hitting me straight in the face, but it’s not like that at all.
I felt like the bomb came from inside my body when the vehicle lurched, metal shrieking, as it went airborne.
One minute, the ground was there, and the next minute, it wasn’t.
I felt pressure pushing against me, and instead of a bright light taking away my vision, it was dull white, like all the color in the world had evaporated, or been sucked out through a giant straw.
Once I could see properly again, it took every ounce of patience to focus, because everything looked like my worst nightmare.
It took me seconds, or maybe minutes, before I registered the hollow ringing in my ears, because I saw my first sergeant’s mouth moving, but couldn’t hear a damn word he said.
The air was filled with dirt, dust, and debris. Parts of things — I hoped I never knew exactly what — had rained down on us. I tasted dirt and copper, only realizing much later that it was my own blood that filled my mouth. The scent of burned rubber and hot metal practically suffocated me.
How had I ended up outside the vehicle I was traveling in? I grabbed the helmet next to me, assuming it was mine, only then realizing it was still attached to the head of the corporal who’d only been with us for a month. I saw more unattached body parts in one minute than I’d ever expected to.
A quiet road, with no apparent life, now teemed with chaos.
Sounds echoed around me as we all scrambled to protect our group.
Radios blared, commands given, and urgent shouts as everyone seemed to sense the threat wasn’t over.
We had to take stock of ourselves, our injuries, and those who were lost.
I couldn’t get up. My leg was full of shrapnel, a piece lodged in my side, and I couldn’t stop staring at the helmet in my hand.
Sounds reverberated around me, some controlled, and some panicked, as I looked up into the sky.
The dust and dirt began to settle, leaving a muted brown haze, but I could see glimmers of blue sky.
Was this the end of my life? Did I have everything settled for my family?
I remember thinking I felt peace, knowing Gianna was happy with Travis, and Luca and Arianna had both found love.
At least I’d gotten to see half of my siblings find happiness.
I couldn’t feel my leg. Cold began to seep into my bones, and I closed my eyes, slipping into emptiness.
The last thing I thought of was Ella.
Who would tell her? Would she be sad? I hope she knew how much I loved her. How I knew I’d never love anyone as much as her. How I wish I’d have one more chance to tell her, because she deserved to know.
A year later, after I’d been through countless surgeries at a military hospital in Germany, and more at Walter Reed Hospital in Washington DC, I’d run into Ella on the street.
I’d only been home a few weeks, and had secretly devised a plan with Alex on approaching her.
When I’d seen her wearing a baby, I’d lost it.
I was ready to beg her to take me back, and she’d moved on.
Helping her with her washer and dryer was the first time I’d spoken to her since.
“Dude,” Travis whispers. “You okay?”
I’m jarred back to the present, and I realize my hands are gripping the fabric of my jeans so harshly my knuckles are white. Looking up, I find most of the room turned to stare at me.
“You good?” Seb asks.
“Uh, yeah,” I mumble.
The speaker, Josh, cocks his head to the side, studying me. “No, you’re not. What triggered you?”
“Nothing triggered me. I lost focus. What were you saying?” I stammer. My knee begins to ache, and I absentmindedly rub it.
“What’s your name?” Josh asks.
“Leo.”
“Rank?”
“Civilian,” I snap, aggravated.
Sebastian speaks up. “He was medically discharged four or five years ago. I think he was Sergeant First Class.”
“What happened?” Josh inquires.
“Convoy got hit by an IED,” Travis supplies. “Half the squad didn’t make it. He says he’s fine, but he’s not.”
“And your name?”
“Travis Anderson. He’s my best friend, and my brother-in-law. We were both Army Rangers, but I got out a couple of years before he did, also medically discharged. Mine wasn’t the same, though. Just really fucked up my knee, and the Army didn’t want me anymore.”
“An injury doesn’t have to be ‘the same’ to qualify as traumatizing, Travis,” Josh says, using air quotes. “The Army medically discharging both of you over things neither of you controlled is still emotionally traumatizing.”
“I know,” Travis answers. “I’ve been in therapy. I can look back and realize it happened for a reason. I got to move here, meet his sister, and fall in love. I have no regrets.”
“And you, Leo?” Josh asks, turning his gaze to me. “Do you have any regrets?”
I think for a moment. Does he mean regrets about my military career, how I handled that last mission, or how I was as a non-commissioned officer? Or is he talking about life in general? Ella’s face flashes in my mind, causing me to rasp, “Too many to count.”
“It’s normal to have regrets. Are yours about your military career, or about your life at home?” he asks.
“Both,” I say, hoarsely. The day of the mission, I’d pushed my guys to be faster as we packed up.
Speed up. Let’s go. What if I’d let them go at a slower pace?
What if I’d taken the first truck, and had the others back a hundred yards?
Would there have been less death? Fewer uniformed soldiers arriving at homes across the country to report on the death of their loved one?
On behalf of the president of the United States, the Army, and a grateful nation …
honorable and faithful service … deep sympathy …
here, take this flag in his memory as we promise to honor his memory. It’s all a bunch of bullshit.
In Germany, I had dreams of what it must have been like for my family to find out I was wounded.
They never knew how bad it was. I’d waited to have anyone call them, forcing my first sergeant to promise he would only call if I didn’t survive one of the surgeries.
Weeks after the explosion, I finally called my parents.
Even thinking it was only a busted calf and my mother was hysterical.
My dad was especially quiet, which is when I knew he was struggling.
He’d always cleared his throat a lot, but his complete silence was the sign that he couldn’t handle what he heard.
Almost six years later, and I still wonder how Ella would have handled the news of my injury.
“Leo,” Josh says quietly, and I find him kneeling next to me.
I’d lost focus again, lost in memories. “I’d like to have you come into my office sometime this week.
I think it’s great you’re here with RMRRMC, as they’ll be a wonderful support for you.
But you’ve been through an incredibly traumatic event that no one here truly empathizes with. ”
“Oh? And you do?” I retort.
He gives me a bitter smile and nod. “Unfortunately, I do.”
Completely taken aback, I nod. Josh stands, heading back to where Sebastian sits, then turns to address the group.
“It’s simple to say that every veteran experiences the same things on deployment, or when they acclimate to civilian life again, but it’s not the case.
It doesn’t matter the kind of support each of you have, how long you were active duty, or what job you have now.
We all process things differently, and we can’t predict how things might trigger us.
Every day is a step, gentlemen. Slow and steady. ”
I watch as each man in attendance looks at me, most with varying expressions of sadness or pity.
I don’t know any of these guys. Until now, I’d have assumed I was doing okay.
I have an amazing family who supports me wholeheartedly.
I’ve been medically discharged for over four years.
While doing odd jobs around the hotel isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a lifetime career, at least it isn’t behind a desk.
I thought things were going fairly well.
And now, I’m so acutely aware of how wrong I was.