Gooseberry Island (9 page)

After conquering dangerous obstacle courses, twelve-mile foot marches, night and day land-navigation tests and combat water-survival training, which literally taught each man what it felt like to drown, David’s company completed Phase One of Ranger School. Through attrition, their numbers had been nearly cut in half. Taking one hour to get haircuts and purchase any sundry items needed, they were off to the mountains. David enjoyed the uncomfortable rest the flight provided. He welcomed Phase Two and told his friends, “Follow me boys!” Minutes later, they were jumping into the smallest, most rugged drop zone David had ever seen. Many claimed Phase Two was the most difficult. Sergeant David McClain was the first to land. For three more torturous weeks, with even less sleep, each ranger candidate gauged his capabilities, as well as his limitations. Both day and night, they completed combat missions. As one day blurred into the next, David and his comrades completed Phase Two of Ranger School and found themselves on a plane heading to Florida. There were still seventeen days to go and, as each of them had been told from the beginning, “those who flunk out of Phase Three will have to return to day one.” With that threat in mind, David envisioned his greatest fear. From a picture-perfect sky, they assaulted the Sunshine State. By this point, the class of ranger recruits had dwindled to fewer than one half of the number that began the training. Those that remained had reached far beyond their nerves and were now functioning off sheer conviction. Seemingly the most practical of all exercises, they engaged a well-trained, sophisticated enemy. Food was conveniently made more scarce, and the most primitive instincts of survival were brought into play. David hated the grubs, but he ate them. They were the best source of protein, and he desperately needed the energy. No sooner would the recruits close their eyes than the enemy would reappear through sniper fire, keeping them awake and moving. On the final day of his tour, David discovered one of his men had been taken captive. Leading his small unit on a daring rescue mission, they eventually got pinned down by heavy smal- arms fire. They were courageously continuing to fight toward their objective when David heard a click. It was the distinct metallic click of an M16 A1 rifle. He looked up. It was one of the instructors sitting in a tree, apparently out of ammunition. David shouldered his weapon, took the man directly in his sights and squeezed off a blank. The man jumped from the tree and approached the young team leader. “You would risk all your men for the life of one?” he asked. David was delirious with exhaustion but responded by quoting his favorite lines of the Ranger Creed. “Energetically, I will meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the battlefield for I am better trained and will fight with all my might.
Surrender
is not a ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country.” The man smiled wide, reached into his pocket and offered David and his brothers each a cigarette. Taking a seat on a moss-covered stump, he took two deep drags and looked up. “Good job, ranger,” he said. David lit his own cigarette and cried. They all cried. “We made it,” David said. “We’re Airborne Rangers.” The graduation lasted no more than an hour, and though families congratulated their sons, husbands and brothers with hugs, David stood alone once again. It didn’t matter.
The Rangers are my family now,
he thought.
Nobody back home could ever understand what I’ve gone through anyway. There’s no way they could.

Unsure whether the Afghan was still on the other rooftop—and whether Nate had nodded off—David lay completely still, allowing his mind to travel to another place—to Gooseberry Island, where Lindsey was still waiting for him.

The moon sat directly above Gooseberry Island, illuminating a hypnotic tide, while the salty winds sang in the elephant grass. David inhaled deeply—feeling a wave of serenity roll through his entire body. He looked to his left, and that sense of peace was joined by excitement. “It’s so beautiful here,” Lindsey said.
And so are you,
he thought, nodding. “It’s my favorite place in the whole world,” he said. She looked at him, making his heart skip a beat. “Mine too,” she said. After a moment, she pointed toward the old stone lighthouse. “Look at that,” she said. It took everything he had to peel his eyes away from Lindsey and redirect his attention to the tall gray beacon. “They say old Ruth has saved quite a few souls from these waters.” Lindsey smiled. “She must be a strong woman to live such a solitary life.” He half-shrugged and teased, “I guess I wouldn’t mind living there.” “By yourself?” she asked, surprised. He nodded. “Why not? There’d be no one around to bother me.” He struggled to conceal his grin, thinking,
Though I wouldn’t mind you visiting me.

“Can you imagine spending that much time alone?” she asked. “It must change a person.”

“I guess it might,” he agreed and thought about it for a moment, “depending on where your head’s at.”

Lindsey shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’ve been around lots of people and still felt alone.”

David looked into her eyes and felt his heart flutter again. “I think you have to feel comfortable being alone with yourself before you can feel comfortable being yourself with others.”

Oh Lindsey
, David thought,
to hell with being alone
. When he emerged from the daydream, he was lying in a puddle of sweat—both his and Nate’s. He slowed his breathing again and listened carefully.
Nothing.
Then, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, he slowly peeked out. Nothing was more painstaking than trying to camouflage movement. The man on the adjacent rooftop was gone.
Amen
. David squirmed out from under the hefty tarp and reached for his canteen, where he emptied it in two long gulps. The hot wind felt like an air conditioner, waking Nathan from his slumber as well.

Close call
, David thought, still not sure how they didn’t get spotted. While Nate slithered back to his position, David returned to his rifle, hoping that they hadn’t missed their target during the episode.

Rooftops, no movement. Her windows, nothing. Southwest corner, no one. Street is clear. Southeast corner, no one.
And then it dawned on him.
Or maybe we did get caught and they’re on their way?

He looked over at Nate, who was now looking back at the chalked door behind them.

Suddenly, there was movement three hundred yards out on the street below.
Unusual,
David thought. It was a teenage boy, maybe fourteen, carrying a burlap bag and quickly making his way home before dark.
Never seen him before,
David thought and smiled.
Back home, he’d be looking forward to getting his driver’s permit and dreaming about his first date.

In a flash, a man—a Taliban fighter—jumped out of the shadows and grabbed the boy’s arm, pulling him to the street and spilling the contents of his sack. As the teenager yelled for help, another Taliban soldier emerged from the darkness. The boy screamed louder, but not a single soul came to his aid.

David watched as both Taliban fighters began interrogating the boy.
They might be looking for us,
David thought. The teenage boy shook his head a few times. Loud yells quickly turned to open hand slaps. The boy fell to the street, where both fighters pounced on him to inflict a vicious, inhumane beating.

While listening to the thud of boots smashing into the boy’s skull, David took a deep breath to control his anger while using his thumb to take his rifle off safe. He placed his finger into the trigger guard, sighted in the first aggressor’s head and broke radio silence. “Papa Bear,” he whispered, pressing the microphone into his neck. “This is Gray Ghost. I’ve got a young boy at my ten o’clock being beaten to death by two Taliban. I’ve got the shot. Requesting green light. Over.”

The boy’s shrills were ear-piercing. Still, no one on the ground came to his aid.

I’ll take the first one out
, David thought,
and by the time the second animal watches his buddy hit the deck, he’ll be on his way to Allah too…right behind him.

“Negative,” Command responded.

“I say again, they’re killing the boy,” David whispered. “Over.”

By this time, the teenager had been beaten so badly he’d quit fighting back.

“Read you, Lima Charlie,” Command replied. “I say again, stand down. Will dispatch ground troops to that location. Do not compromise your position.” There was a snowy pause. “How copy? Over.”

David’s oath as a soldier was in direct conflict with his innate decency as a human being, his heart and mind locked in mortal combat. His mind raced, searching for an option that would allow him to save the boy while still fulfilling his duty and successfully carrying out their mission. There was Option A—take out both Taliban and save the boy, while causing the mission to fail immediately, in turn, placing countless American soldiers and marines at fatal risk; or Option B—stick to the mission and forfeit the boy, along with a piece of his own soul. There was no Option C.

“Received,” David hissed, choosing Option B, before looking sideways to Nate.

The laughter of both Taliban soldiers drifted up to their rooftop.

Nate slowly shook his head. From the look in his eyes, he was obviously experiencing the same rage and helplessness.

With tears streaming down his chapped cheeks—like the good soldier he’d been trained to be—David shifted his scope and scanned the building before him. He wished with everything inside him that he could silence the boy’s desperate pleas, as the teenager continued to beg for his life in his foreign tongue.

Rooftops, no movement. Her windows, nothing. Southwest corner, no one.
As David scanned his grid to acquire his one and only target, he skipped over the gruesome scene on the street below.

This pathetic distraction, however, did nothing to mask the boy’s terrified howls for help. David’s stomach flipped a few times, sending a wave of acid up his esophagus, burning a path straight to the back of his constricted throat.
Breathe….breathe…
he told himself, fighting off the urge to vomit.

The abuse only took three minutes but lasted an eternity. The boy’s shrieks were suddenly quieted to mournful sobs. David drummed up enough courage to place his scope back on the teenager. His attackers were gone, but the damage they’d inflicted was evident. The boy was covered in blood—his face already purple and swollen—and rolled into the fetal position, lying completely motionless.

They killed him,
David thought.
They beat him to death.
Tears streamed faster down David’s face.
I’m so sorry
, he told the boy in his mind.
Please forgive me
.

As an old Afghan man emerged from one of the houses and pulled the bloodied body off the street, David returned to his scan, his eyes blurred with stinging tears.
Rooftops, no movement. Her windows, nothing. Southwest corner, no one.
Southeast corner, no one.
He felt like he was breathing through a crimped straw.

By early Sunday morning, the tier-one target never presented itself, and the mission was aborted.

“Gray Ghost,” David heard in his ear piece, “this is Papa Bear. Abort mission.”

David pressed the microphone on his neck. “Say again, Papa Bear?”

“Abort mission, Gray Ghost.” There was static, followed by another squelch. “Battalion confirmed that our intel was bad.”

“Received,” David hissed, and looked over at Nate—who was already shaking his head. “We’ll bug out at dark.”

I could have saved that poor kid,
David thought, the real war now waged within his heart and mind
.
His eyes filled with tears.
I could have saved him.
The reality of it poured into his soul like ten tons of concrete, and the same heart that allowed him to stand up and fight also made him cry—quietly.

For another sixteen hours, David lay on the rooftop in the prone position like a wounded slug, watching the world through the limited viewpoint of a sniper’s scope. It was way too much time for his thoughts not to wander into the darkness. Whenever Lindsey’s pretty face appeared in his mind’s eye, he pushed it out of his head as fast as it appeared. Mostly, he just tried to keep breathing without passing out.

Once it got dark, David looked up at the constellations and saw the North Star shining brightly.
Sorry Lindsey,
he thought,
but there’s no place for you in this hell hole.

Slowly and with each movement being completely deliberate, David and Nate packed up and slithered out the same way they’d slithered in—undetected.

Lindsey was down in her basement, finishing the week’s laundry, when she spotted the corner of an old drab green Army trunk buried beneath boxes of Christmas decorations
. Curious, she dug the trunk out and dragged it to the open floor, where she took a knee. Among other war souvenirs—a British uniform and beret with desert rat patches, a boot knife with a broken tip, yellow-eared photos—she discovered a stack of old letters bound by an old rubber band. She looked at the stack, realizing they had been mailed to her father from her mother in 1991. He’d been stationed on the front lines of Iraq, Seventh Corps, First Light Infantry.

As Lindsey removed the top letter, the rubber band snapped. She lifted the envelope closer to her nose, detecting the faint scent of perfume. She took a seat, pulled the letter from the yellowed envelope and read:

My Dearest,

Thank you for your many letters. I can’t tell you how much they mean to me to know that you’re safe.

Denis, I love you so much that it hurts. As I try to go about my daily routine, I can’t think about anything but you. I sit in front of the TV day and night, watching what you guys are doing over there. So brave! I’m so proud of you that I could scream.

I can’t wait to see you again…to hold you and kiss you and make love to you over and over.

Lindsey cringed at the thought of her parents together like that, though she understood what her mother had been feeling.

There’s nothing new on this end. I saw your mother at the market and we shared updates about you. Lee Greenwood’s song, “God Bless the USA,” plays over and over on the radio, and it makes me think of you every time.

I daydream about the future we’ll have together. Getting married, buying a house, having children and growing old together.

Lindsey snorted at the final thought. “Three out of four isn’t bad, Mom,” she muttered, sarcastically, and returned to the letter.

I love you so much that it aches. Think of me and please stay safe.

All My Love,

Anita

Lindsey dropped the letter and sat in the middle of the dirty floor, thinking.
It’s exactly what I’m feeling…what I’m living right now
. She shook her head.
Mom and Dad were definitely in love back then, but in the end look how it turned out.
She shook her head again.
Either their love died, or it wasn’t strong enough to overcome everything they were forced to face together after the war
. The truth of it made her shiver.

She threw the letters back into the trunk and kicked it into the corner. Grabbing the laundry basket, she shut off the light and walked up the stairs—knowing that the letter would haunt her, challenging the innocent hope she had for a future with David.

Lindsey made a beeline to her PC and wrote David:

David,

Things are good on this end. I’ve been thinking about you every day. But as you know, you’re not missing anything here—except me.

Please write or call and tell me when it looks like you’ll be coming home. It’s getting closer every day, and I cannot wait to see you. You have no idea how proud I am (we all are) of you.

I love you.

Lindsey

Halfway around the world, David stared at the computer screen like a drooling zombie, his chest constricted and his breathing shallow.
That night on the park bench was a lifetime ago,
he thought.
So much has changed. I’ve changed.
And he knew it wasn’t for the better.

There were times when he struggled to picture Lindsey’s face now—the way she’d looked at him when they gazed up at the stars that night.

I could destroy this before we ever have a chance,
he thought.

Still, he wrote:

Lindsey,

You’ve taught me that someone doesn’t have to be there in person to really be there for someone. Thanks for walking with me every step of the way. Your letters have honestly helped me get through this.

All My Love,

David

One month before shipping home, David was summoned to the chaplain’s tent. Upon arrival, he found the white-haired major sitting at a small, portable desk.

“You called for me, sir?” David asked in the tent flap.

The man turned. “McClain?” he asked, smiling.

David nodded.

“Come in. Come in, please.” He gestured for David to take a seat on his cot.

Reluctantly, David sat on the edge. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked.

The man retrieved an envelope and turned to face David, his eyes now solemn. “I’m sorry to tell you, son, but we’ve received word from the Red Cross that your dad has passed away. We…”

“What?” David interrupted. “My father died?” he asked, the shock numbing his senses.

The older man took a seat beside David. “He did, son,” he confirmed, handing him the letter. “Seems he had a massive heart attack at work and they couldn’t revive him.”

David stared at the opened letter—unable to read a word of it—while his mind spiraled with a thousand negative thoughts.
But he never said goodbye to me…I never showed him he was wrong…Oh God, Mom must be a mess
. His emotions were even more fractured and bizarre.

The chaplain placed his hand on David’s shoulder. “There will be no actual funeral, just a cremation followed by a private burial. I’ve already taken the liberty of talking to your company commander about you taking bereavement R & R and…”

“That won’t be necessary,” David said, still dry-eyed and in shock.

“Grief can be a funny thing, G.I.”

“Please don’t ever call me that,” David snapped instinctively.

The man slowly nodded. “Okay, son, but if you want to…”

“I’ll be fine,” David interrupted, “really.”

The man searched his eyes. “Would you like me to pray with you?”

Shaking his head, David stood. “I appreciate that, but I need to call home and talk to my mother. She must be taking it hard.”

“Of course. Of course.” The chaplain also stood and extended his hand. “My deepest sympathies for your loss. If you change your mind about going home or would just like to come by and talk, my door is always open.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.” He thought for a moment. “Knowing my father, he would have wanted me to stay right here and do my job.”

The chaplain looked unsure about how to take the last comment. “I hope to see you at service on Sunday.”

David nodded again. “Sure, if I’m not out shooting at bad guys.”

The older man’s eyes went wide.

With the letter in hand, David quickly exited the tent, confused by his overwhelming emotions.
Dad was a real bastard,
he thought,
but at least he was always there.
He shook his head.
I just wish I’d had the chance to face him and tell him what I really thought.

Although David expected a physical response to follow—gasping breaths, tightening of the chest—he felt nothing of the sort.
Strange
, he thought.

Lindsey approached her car after a long day at work. Joe, her ex-boyfriend, was waiting by her driver’s side door. “Hi sexy,” he said. “Miss me?”

Joe was tall, bronze and chiseled. With aqua blue eyes and raven black hair, to say that he was good looking would have been a gross understatement. At one time, Lindsey was just another notch in his long line of conquests. He’d cast a spell on her, and she dove headfirst into his winning smile.
But that was a long time ago
, she thought.

“No,” she said honestly. “There’s nothing worse than being with someone and always wondering who else they’re with.”
He smells good though,
Lindsey thought,
and it looks like he’s been working out
. She snickered to herself.
But a dog dressed in a tuxedo is still a dog.

Joe shook his head. “I had no idea things would turn out the way they did. But I needed to come see you and tell you what I’ve been thinking and feeling…”

She started to object when he continued. “Lindsey, you’re so incredibly irresistible. You’re funny and smart.”

His words sounded more sincere than anything he’d ever fabricated, but she could tell he was lying because his lips were still moving. No matter how challenging the game, it was all about the thrill of the chase for Joe, and he kept his eyes on the prize.

“I don’t mean to put pressure on you,” he said, “but I can’t help it. I wish, even for a moment, that you could come away with me. Then you’d understand how real this is for me and how desperately I want you…all of you.”

“Joe, please don’t…”

He took a step closer and locked onto her eyes. “I could kiss you for hours, Linds, and never stop. All I want is the opportunity to turn your world upside down.” He reached for her hand.

She pulled it away.

“When we were together, I felt really comfortable with you. I just wish it didn’t end the way it did.”

“With you cheating on me with every skank on the island?” she finally asked, breaking her silence.

“I told you, I made a mistake.”

“More than one,” she said, surprised that she was still angry about it.

“We’ve both learned that life can change,” he said and then grinned. “But I can also see that the attraction between us hasn’t changed.”

“Life can change,” she agreed, “but people are who they are. And you’re a cheat, Joe. You’ll always be a cheat.”

“Listen…” he said, waving off her last comment like she hadn’t meant it. “I have a good job, a nice house…it’s all good. But there’s something missing. One big giant piece of the puzzle is missing. I now know what it is or what I want. I want you, Lindsey.”

She tried to stop him again.

“Please Lindsey, at least let me finish.” An actual tear formed in the corner of his eye.

Wow
, she thought,
even tears this time
.

“I truly believe with all my heart that you and I are meant to be, and I’m crawling out of my skin with ways to make you smile.” He nodded. “I’ve seen how determination and persistence can pay off, and I believe that if I want something bad enough, no matter what it is I can make it happen.” He smiled wide. “Lindsey, the day may come that I become determined to make you my wife, and it may come sooner than you think.”

She gagged slightly; she couldn’t help it.

He studied her face, clearly surprised that he hadn’t made more ground. “Okay, so I made a mistake. And now I’m not entitled to happiness?”

“Of course you are, Joe,” she said, “but not at the sake of mine.”

He paused for air. “Maybe we could just be friends then?” His dimpled grin and raised eyebrow was like a spider’s web, awaiting its prey in the morning sun.

The temptation was stronger than Lindsey would have liked. She was standing at a dangerous crossroad, and they both knew it.

Joe stepped forward again and held out his hand. “Come on, Linds,” he whispered. “It would be a real shame to throw away the connection we share.”

He’s unbelievably sexy
, she thought, but was already shaking her head.
But it’s best to eliminate any opportunities before I’m the one making the mistake
. “I can’t,” she said. “I met this guy.”

“You’re saying
no
because you just met a guy? You don’t even know him, Linds.”

“I’m not sure about that,” she said.

He was shocked. “You’re not going to give me another chance because you like some new guy?”

“No, Joe. It’s because I like myself.” She shrugged. “Besides, you’ve had enough chances.” She shook her head. “You are what you are, and that’s never going to change.” She nodded confidently. “It’s never going to happen, Joe. We’re done.”

“Well, it’s your loss then!” he said.

“I know,” she said, trying to be kind and afford him at least one shred of dignity.

“But you don’t,” he said, growing more angry. “You have no idea.” He walked away, pouting like a little boy who’d just heard the word
no
for the first time.

He’s so damn beautiful,
Lindsey thought, and sighed heavily
, but there are a million Joe’s out there.
She then pictured David’s baby face and smiled.
And I want much more
.

David lay on his cot, staring up at the billet’s corrugated ceiling.
So much has happened
, he thought.
When we first landed here,
it didn’t look like there was anything worth fighting for. If it weren’t for the constant reminders that we were fighting terrorism, the entire thing would have seemed ludicrous.
In the grander scheme of things, though, David believed it was a just cause. He nodded to himself thinking,
Either way, when the fighting kicks off, politics, big band anthems and waving flags play no role in combat. Men fight for their brothers who stand beside them; it’s that simple.
He placed both hands behind his head and sighed.
And when the bullets start flying, there’s much less fear than I’d ever imagined there would be.
The fighting’s instinctive,
he thought. He and the boys merely reverted back to their rudimentary training, which had been taught at a third-grade level through relentless repetition.

Most days, thoughts and emotions are put on hold, where they can be dealt with afterward—regardless of how long that might take.
And when visions of the enemy’s family—to include small, dependent children—danced in David’s head, causing him to stay up at night, he offset it with other grotesque pictures of the Taliban’s cruelty. When it was quiet at night, this internal war raged on inside of him. He sometimes wondered,
What will my mother think of me now that I’ve made the transition from fighter to killer?
He wondered even more—
what will Lindsey think of me?

After eleven months in Afghanistan, David needed to confess, to tell the truth—anything to lighten his soul. But the last thing he wanted was to burden his family or friends with the sins he’d been ordered to commit. He immediately thought about Captain Eli, his mentor and confidant.
Captain Eli won’t judge me
, he thought.
He just won’t
. He grabbed a pen and paper and wrote: