Hope and Circumstance

Hope and Circumstance



He fucking hated this place. Presence patrols were the worst. They just seemed so utterly pointless. He never liked walking amongst the Iraqis. He didn’t trust them at all. It was too hard to tell who was a civilian and who was an insurgent. When you finally did figure it out, you were usually getting shot at. The 1st lieutenant was leading his section (two squads) down one of the main roads in town, showing the people that the Americans were here and they were not afraid to walk amongst the people. He wasn’t afraid but he still didn’t like it. It was extremely risky walking dismounted around town. Unfortunately, he had to do it to talk to the locals and judge their situation. There was a quick reaction force of three Humvees not too far away, but he still didn’t like the situation.

All he did was walk around town a bit, and talk to the people. It was very frustrating. Hello, my name is Lieutenant Davis. Do you have any problems I can help you with in the next five minutes? They always complained about things out of his control. When will you pave the roads? When can you get the electricity to stay on? When will you lift the curfew? We don’t have enough gas. You arrested my nephew last week. Why? Rarely did his answers satisfy the locals, but he did everything he could to appease them. But it wasn’t nearly enough. These people had next to nothing and needed to rebuild their lives.

Lieutenant Davis had been in country for five of eighteen months. He was not even a third of the way done with his tour, but he was already desperately homesick. He talked to his newlywed wife Elizabeth every chance he possibly could. He e-mailed her at least once every day, often with his webcam. He had heard too many stories about army life and the stress of deployment ruining marriages. The bars around his base were full of the remnants of broken marriages, each with his own sad story of love lost. Ian Davis had heard most of those stories and did not want to be one of those heartbroken pathetic cases who tried to drink their pain away. Even though he had only been married to Elizabeth for nine months, he was confident that the two of them could make it through his deployment. Elizabeth was a strong and faithful woman who loved him dearly. But there was always a tiny fear in the back of his mind.

He tried to keep all of his e-mails and phone conversations free of the stress he had from all of the combat operations he led or participated in. Sometimes, it couldn’t be avoided, especially when he lost a soldier, something that had happened on two separate occasions during his deployment. Every so often he would have nightmares about the combat experiences he was in. Sometimes he was watching a friend die and for one reason or another was helpless to save them. He had a recurring dream about a child who had been killed at a checkpoint that he just couldn’t bring himself to share yet. The worst dream he had was the one in which he got killed. He was in a room full of blood, surrounded by his dead and dying comrades, trying to protect them. He tried to fire at a black masked insurgent coming through the door, but his gun clicked empty and the insurgent fired into him, knocking him down and ripping his chest apart. He would jump awake, terrified, and check himself for holes before realizing it was a dream. He couldn’t bear to tell Elizabeth about this dream, knowing it wouldn’t do anything other than scare her. He had to try to be strong for her and make it back alive.

Knowing Elizabeth hated it when he smoked; he tried to work out as much as he could. Sometimes he just had to vent his frustrations and grief on a loving and sympathetic ear. He tried to do it with his fellow officers as much as possible, but there was no substitute for the love and caring that Elizabeth could provide. He didn’t want to burden her with his grief, but she always reminded him that they were in this together and that she would always be there for him. Her love was the greatest comfort Ian had in Iraq. He hated himself for leaving her behind, but she never blamed him. Unconditional love was all Elizabeth offered Ian, but that didn’t make their separation any less difficult. If anything it made his deployment harder. He knew his absence was just as hard on her, if not harder. He felt responsible for her loneliness and fear. He wanted to be at home to comfort her more than anything else in the world. He prayed to God every night that he could make it home to Elizabeth.

Lately, through the e-mails and phone conversations, he could see that the stress of his deployment was getting to her. Her voice was getting tenser and she cried more often than usual. She worked for a pharmaceutical company helping to create medicines and vaccines. She loved her work and took pride in the fact that her research helped to save lives. It had been a dream of hers ever since she discovered her love of chemistry in high school. Elizabeth loved her career, but Ian could tell that the sense of fulfillment she got from her work was disappearing. She was having trouble focusing now that Ian was overseas.

Ian had charged his brother Chris with looking after his wife while he was gone. Chris stopped by regularly with groceries and would run errands for her when he got the time. At least once a week he would cook dinner for her. Elizabeth often tried to shoo him back to his own family, but Chris always found or made time to stop by. He told Ian that it seemed like Elizabeth was having trouble relaxing at home. Chris could tell that the fear was getting to her. Whenever the phone or doorbell rang, a look of panic sprang into her face that she quickly tried to hide. She always went to the nearest window whenever she heard a car door shut, worried that the wrong car had pulled up.

Chris didn’t know about the dreams she had. Elizabeth never told anyone about her dreams. At night she was haunted by her worst fears. She would be alone at a funeral, next to a closed casket, and see Ian’s name on the tombstone. Sometimes the dream would be a cheap bodied Ford pulling into her driveway, and watching the Chaplin and two officers slowly walking to her door, invading her house, and telling her with dead, expressionless faces that Ian had been killed and would never come home again. The very worst dream was the one she had where she was at the airport. Ian’s plane had just landed and she was waiting for him in the terminal. She was anxious, happy, and excited as she watched all the soldiers come off the plane and into the loving arms of their families. She would gradually get more afraid as soldiers kept coming off the plane and she hadn’t seen Ian. Then they stopped coming off the plane and she panicked, knowing that Ian was gone. She would wake up in a cold sweat and sometimes crying. She tossed and turned in bed without Ian there to lie next to her. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in three months, even when it was alcohol induced.

She refused to share her dreams with Ian in much the same way that he refused to share his combat experiences with her. Every day Ian and Elizabeth woke up and faced the possibility of their worst fears coming true. Both were unsure how they would ever be able to deal with them, so they prayed and hoped that it would never happen. They went about their daily lives with their nightmares in the back of their heads, slowly and silently gnawing away at them.

Sometimes it was the little things that Ian remembered the most about her. He remembered the way they used to hold hands as they walked their dog down the street together. He loved the way she would smile at him for no particular reason other than the fact that they were in love. The way she would laugh, either with or at him, was something that Ian could never forget. The thing that he missed the most was simply lying with her in his arms. She would rest her head on his chest and wrap her entire self around him. It was moments like this that Ian felt completely at peace. It was hard to sleep without her by his side. It always felt like something was missing.

Ian was jarred out of his daydream when the radioman ran up to him.

“Sir, it’s higher.” Slightly annoyed, Davis took the handset from the radioman, held it up to his ear and spoke.

“Tango 1-6, this is Charlie 1-6. Go ahead.”

“Charlie 1-6, this is Tango 1-6. Be advised, Hitman 1-1 just got hit by an IED and is returning to base. You have no QRF. Over.”

Shit. It was almost time for them to head back to the rally point to get driven back to the base.

“Roger, Tango 1-6.”

“Charlie 1-6, be advised a convoy will be at the rally point, but pick up time will be postponed a bit.”

“Tango 1-6, ETA on pickup?” There was a bit of a pause.

“…Unknown, Charlie 1-6. Less than an hour.”

Damn it. They would be staying at least a half hour longer than they should have. Maybe more. They had already been here for over three hours. He radioed his squad leaders and informed them of what had happened. They were still going to stick to the schedule, but they were going to have to wait at the rally point rather than leave immediately. He knew that would be dangerous.

They took a side street that would lead them to another main road that would loop around back to the rally point. The point man, Flaherty, was walking across the main road to the other side. First squad was on the main road and second squad was about to make the turn when suddenly Flaherty fell to the ground and the crack of a rifle was heard to their front.

The squad dove to cover along the sides of the road and shouts of “Sniper!” and “Contact front!” were heard up ahead. Immediately someone tried to run up to Flaherty, but a machine gun opened up, spraying bullets everywhere and driving him back behind cover. Several civilians ran the other way, many screaming.

The first squad then opened up and the staff sergeant with them started to try to direct their fire onto the hidden machine gun position. He then grabbed his radio.

“LT, we have a machine gun to our front, somewhere on the left side of the road, and a sniper somewhere to our front. Flaherty’s down.”

The lieutenant was already running up to join the rest of the squad at the intersection. He immediately radioed back. “Suppress that machine gun! Get to Flaherty and bound back around the corner!” He then radioed Staff Sergeant Haggerty leading second squad. “Second squad, take that alleyway on the left and get to the next street. Get up there and suppress that machine gun!”

“Roger that, sir!” And second squad was immediately up and running back down the side street to get to the alleyway.

The lieutenant made it up to the corner and sized up the situation. First squad’s alpha fire team was on the right hand side of the road with the team leader directing their fire. Their M-16s and M-4s were chattering out three round bursts and the SAW was rattling out longer bursts of 10 rounds at a two story building to the left. Bravo team was on the left hand side of the road, the four soldiers doing their best to put fire on the building. Flaherty was up ahead of them bleeding out on the side of the road, his legs kicking a bit. He heard the thump of an M-203 grenade launcher and saw a puff of smoke and fire as it landed just short of the building, about 300 meters up ahead. For now all they could do was wait and try to suppress the machine gun while second squad moved to their left to try to get into a better position and engage the insurgents long enough for them to pull Flaherty out. Bullets were splashing little geysers of dirt in the road and into the walls. Tracers flew past, making little hissing noises, yet all the men continued to fire fiercely at the building.

His radioman was by his side and Lieutenant Davis grabbed the mike to call higher. He had to yell over all the gunfire.

“Tango 1-6, this is Charlie 1-6, we are in contact! One casualty, stand by for a SITREP.”

“Roger, Charlie1-6.” He then heard more firing off to his left. Second squad must be in contact, he thought.

The lieutenant grabbed his other radio and called Haggerty. “Second squad, what is your situation, over.” It took a second for him to get a response then Haggerty got on the radio.

“Sir, Janowitz got hit. Sniper I think. Were taking small arms fire from a second position up the road.”

Shit! Now he had two casualties. And Flaherty was still bleeding out in the road up ahead with first squad pinned down by that machine gun. They couldn’t fall back without first getting Flaherty. They couldn’t leave him there. “Second squad, move forward and suppress that machine gun! First squad is pinned down. You must suppress that machine gun!”

“Roger that.” Haggerty responded. The lieutenant then returned his attention to first squad. They were all behind cover and putting fire on the building as best they could. The machine gun continued to chatter up ahead, making it very difficult to advance to Flaherty. Second squad had to get into a good position to engage that machine gun. Flaherty’s life depended upon it.

Lieutenant Davis continued to fire, along with first squad, at the enemy position up ahead. He was crouched in a doorway, carefully squeezing off rounds, with his radio man not far behind. His bolt clicked open after the last round had been fired and he slid in a fresh magazine. He then grabbed the radio and called higher while the radio man now began taking shots.

“Tango 1-6, this is Charlie 1-6. SITREP to follow.”

“Charlie 1-6, go ahead.”

“Tango 1-6, we are receiving small arms fire from a building 300 meters from my current position along Route Red. Enemy size is unknown, estimate squad or more. We have two casualties, and first squad is pinned down by sniper and machine gun fire. Second squad is maneuvering to my left to engage the enemy position, over.”

“Copy that, Charlie 1-6. Be advised QRF is en route to your position. ETA twenty minutes.”

“Roger that, Tango 1-6.” The lieutenant handed the mike back and began shooting again. Second squad has to get there fast, he thought. Flaherty isn’t going to last long out there. He looked over at Flaherty, still lying on his chest. Blood was starting to pool around him. His legs were still kicking a bit, which gave Davis a faint bit of hope. At least he wasn’t dead. Between the gunshots, Lieutenant Davis could hear the men of first squad yell words of encouragement towards Flaherty.

Then he got a call from second squad. “Sir, this is Haggerty. I don’t think we can advance any further! We’re pinned down by sniper and small arms fire. Janowitz isn’t doing well. Hardenburg is treating him, but we can’t locate this sniper! He’s putting accurate fire on us. We can barely move!”

Damn it! Without second squad, the lieutenant realized that getting Flaherty out was going to be a lot harder.

“Alright, second squad. Hold your position, until we get Flaherty. Then we’ll bound back to the last rally point.”

“Roger, sir!”

Goddamn it! They had to make a move for Flaherty now, before more fire was brought to bear on them. He radioed across the street to the staff sergeant.

“Staff Sergeant! Get someone ready to grab Flaherty. We’re gonna have to do this without second squad. We’ll give you as much covering fire as possible.”

“Roger, that, sir!” the staff sergeant responded. Two seconds later he radioed again. “We’re ready, sir!”

The lieutenant loaded a fresh magazine of ammo into his M-4, chambered the first round, and shouted “COVERING FIRE!”

The entire squad opened up with a hail of gunfire as every man pounded the building that the machine gun was in. The squad automatic weapon let loose a continuous stream of bullets in an all engulfing roar and Lieutenant Davis watched as another M-203 round exploded into the side of the building.

As Davis added his bullets to the fight he watched out of the corner of his eye as a soldier came rushing out from behind a building and sprinted in a low crouch up to Flaherty. The lieutenant put round after round into the building, praying that it would be enough to let Flaherty escape.

The soldier was now dragging Flaherty back to the alleyway from which he had come, a smeared trail of blood marking their progress. They were almost there when the machine gun responded with a short burst aimed at the two exposed men, but it went high, its gunner not having the time to aim properly. The lieutenant watched as the tracers exploded against the wall a few feet above the soldier’s head. Then the two of them slipped into the alleyway and out of the line of fire. Upon seeing this, the squad, slowed their fire to a more sustainable rate, with several of the men quickly changing magazines.

Thank God, the lieutenant thought. He watched from the other side of the road as the soldier who ran to Flaherty began stripping him of his gear and putting a bandage on his lower abdomen. Another man dove forward into the alley to help as the squad’s machine gun covered him.

The lieutenant keyed his mike again. “Staff sergeant, get Flaherty ready to move! When he’s ready we’ll bound back down the side street to the last rally point.”

“Roger that, sir! Roger that!”

It took a couple minutes, but the first soldier got Flaherty across his back in a fireman’s carry, while the other one slung his rifle and grabbed his equipment. When they were both ready, the staff sergeant gave the signal and again the squad opened up with everything they had. The building was severely pock-marked by this time, but the machine gun continued to fire and the flicker of other muzzles could be seen as well. Seemingly random bullets whizzed and whined past as the two men and Flaherty moved as fast as they could to the other side of the road. They made it across and found some cover with bravo team on the left hand side of the road.

Lieutenant Davis was again on the radio. “Second squad, start bounding back. We’ll meet you at the rally point.”

“Roger, sir!”

With the wounded Flaherty now with bravo team, first squad’s alpha team was now free to move to the left hand side of the road, towards the safety of the side street. Bravo team covered their movement with withering fire, each man on his fifth or sixth magazine by this point. A soldier launched another grenade with his M-203, this one landing inside the window from which the machine gun was firing. A lucky shot, but it silenced the machine gun for good. Unfortunately, the firefight was no where near over. The lieutenant could see figures moving a few blocks down the road. They looked to be carrying rifles. Alpha team made it to the left hand side of the road and was getting ready to cover the bravo team as they bounded back with the wounded Flaherty.

This was extremely chaotic, but everyone was staying calm and performing their jobs exceptionally well. Despite the obvious fear and tension, all of the soldiers, were putting it in the back of their minds and doing what was expected of them. He could see the fierce and determined looks in their faces. Lieutenant Davis was very proud of his men.

As bravo team bounded back, alpha once again covered their movement. However, the lieutenant noticed more figures popping out of the alleyways up ahead. Alpha team started receiving more fire from individuals in the alleyways to the left and right of the street than from the building down the road! The shots started ricocheting off the road and there were more impacts on the walls just above their heads. One insurgent emerged from an alleyway just one hundred feet from the alpha team and began firing wildly with his AK-47. The captain saw the crazed look in the man’s face as he kept firing until his gun was empty, despite the four bloody holes that were quickly drilled in his chest.

The enemy fire was getting more accurate and the lieutenant knew that soon it would start finding flesh. How the insurgents had closed so fast surprised the lieutenant, but he knew that their close proximity now made the final bound of the alpha team back and around the corner to the side street much more dangerous.

The alpha team let go one last heavy fusillade of bullets and started running back towards the side street. Lieutenant Davis covered them with his M-4, shooting at likely hiding spots to try to keep anyone from taking a shot. The alpha team had just run past him, when the lieutenant saw an insurgent aiming an AK-47 at him from across the road.

Time seemed to freeze. He saw the insurgent, a young man, possibly twenty-five, with a short stubbly beard and long black hair. He was kneeling down and wearing a black t-shirt and jeans and he had that AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifle pointed right at him.

No! I can’t believe it! I’m about to get shot! Lieutenant Davis frantically tried to swing his M-4 around to bear on the insurgent but he knew he would never make it. He never had time to see or even hear the shots. Suddenly his rifle exploded in his hands and something punched him hard in both the arm and leg. It pushed him backwards and down onto his back, knocking the wind out of him.

The soldiers in the alpha team had heard the shots and had turned to fire back when an RPG aimed from down the street exploded out of its launcher with a shrieking roar. It was fired from the roof of a building just across the road and it was aimed directly at them. They managed to dive around the corner as it streaked in and exploded against the side of the building with a deafening roar and showered them all in dirt and debris.

They all stumbled shakily to their feet and ran back down the side street towards the safety of bravo team, set up to cover them.

Lieutenant Davis rolled to his side and tried to process what had just happened. He was down on the ground. His ears were ringing and he could only hear the echoes of gunfire. Hit? Not sure. My gun just exploded in my hands. How? The insurgent? There was an explosion.

He heard a faint cry. He looked to his right and saw his radioman, Sullivan, lying on the ground just five feet away. He called out to him, but he could barely hear his own voice. “Sullivan!” Had he said that? He wasn’t sure. “Are you alright?” If Sullivan had answered, the lieutenant hadn’t heard it.

I have to get over there, the lieutenant thought to himself. He made a mighty effort to stand up, but his leg suddenly shot a bolt of fiery pain through his body that exploded in his head. Davis let out an agonizing yell and collapsed once again. He was in so much pain that he barely noticed the second RPG streak past him and explode in the middle of the road near the side street. It was almost impossible for him to catch his breath.

Lieutenant Davis tried to reach out with his arms to pull himself over to Sullivan, but his left arm wouldn’t work. He glanced down towards it and it was completely blood sodden from armpit to finger tip. His fingers were messed up, the pinky was dangling at a funny angle and his arm was dripping blood everywhere. In an effort to calm himself, he focused on Sullivan. Forget about that, he thought to himself. Get to Sullivan. He pulled himself forward on his right arm. It took immense effort to pull himself forward, his arm and leg protesting fiercely at every jar or bump.

He hearing was slowly returning, and although his ears were still ringing, he could make out the individual gunshots behind him. Lieutenant Davis got to Sullivan and found his face and arms to be a bloody mess. “Hang on buddy! Just hang on. I’ll get you out of here.” They couldn’t make it to the side street. There was a doorway not too far away, slightly ajar from the blast. He grabbed Sullivan by his vest and started trying to drag him to the door.

It was hard enough for the lieutenant to drag himself, but trying to drag Sullivan too was almost impossible. But Sullivan was helping as best he could, using his legs to push himself forward. More bullets were whizzing past. They were getting close now. Geysers of dirt were erupting all around the two of them and the little explosions from bullets impacting the walls just above them sprinkled dust in the lieutenant’s face.

He got to the door and pushed it open. He rolled over in the doorway and reached back to grab Sullivan, who was still desperately kicking his legs. Together the two of them fell in a heap just inside the doorway.

The room was dark and small. Sullivan was babbling in a half sob and squirming around on the floor. Lieutenant Davis knew he was hurt bad. He took notice of the dozens of little holes in both his arms and the tiny slivers of metal sticking in Sullivan’s bloody face and Kevlar flack vest. Blood was oozing all over both of them. “Don’t worry, Sullivan, its minor. It just hurts a lot.”

He was trying to wipe some of the blood out of Sullivan’s eyes when a shadowy figure ran past the door. “Hey! We’re in here!” the lieutenant yelled out instinctively. Then he suddenly realized the figure was running the wrong way, in the direction of first squad.

Oh shit, the lieutenant thought. With Sullivan’s head lying in his lap, he drew his Beretta nine millimeter service pistol from his thigh holster and aimed it at the door. It was hard to keep it steady. He was panting heavily, trying to catch his breath and his hand was shaking. He thumbed off the safety and focused on the door. The contrast between the darkness of the room and the bright light coming through the door was disorienting.

Where the hell was everyone else? Why weren’t they coming? He barely heard the footsteps approach, but he saw the shadow pause right next to the door and the muzzle of a gun peeking around the corner. It definitely was not the muzzle of an M-16. As the figure stepped into the doorway, Ian Davis squeezed the trigger.

BAM! There was a small flash of light and the pistol bucked upward with the shot. He lowered it back down and squeezed again. BAM! And gain. BAM! There was a small explosion of blood as the ski-masked insurgents skull split open like a melon and he crumpled at the lieutenant’s feet. The AK-47 clattered to the floor just out of reach. He kept his pistol trained on him even though he knew the insurgent was dead. He could see parts of his wet pink brains and white chips of skull where the black ski-mask had ripped open. A large puddle of bright red blood was quickly spreading across the floor.

God! Where are you guys? The gunfire was increasing outside. Christ Jesus! They’re killing my men! He didn’t know they were desperately fighting to retrieve him. Lieutenant Davis felt utterly alone with Sullivan. We’re going to die here, he thought. He didn’t expect to be this calm when his worst fear was coming true. He was very dizzy and the pain combined with the brightness from the doorway was blurring. He was getting cold and shaky. His wet, bloody, clammy hand gripped the pistol tightly as he tried to hold it on the doorway. His mind began to wander.

He thought of his mother sitting on the back porch as he and his little brother ran around the yard laughing and playing in the sunlight. She was smiling and happy as she watched them both. His mother was always smiling. He couldn’t remember her being any other way. She was so happy when he graduated and became an officer. He remembered her and his dad pinning his bars on him at his comissioning ceremony. His dad shook his hand and gave him a loving embrace afterwards. His dad was so proud of him, he remembered. He was always proud of him. God, how devastated they were both going to be when they found out about this. Sons aren’t supposed to die before their parents. It wasn’t right. He was supposed to live a long and happy life.

And Elizabeth. Oh, God, no. He couldn’t leave Elizabeth like this. She was so scared when he got deployed. He promised her he would be alright. He remembered how beautiful she looked that night when he asked her to be his wife. He loved her so much. This wasn’t fair. He could see here face again, that first time they had made love together. The way they held one another in each other’s arms. That twinkle in her eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. Paradise was in those eyes. He might never see them again. Oh, please God. Just one more chance to look into her eyes, and hold her again. Press her into him again, until there hearts united. She had looked like an angel, a heavenly white angle, as she floated down the isle to him on their wedding day. No. This wasn’t fair. This was agony. Elizabeth! Where are you! I need you! He cried out for her. I promised her I would get back alright. I promised her. God, the tears in her eyes as they waited in the airport for his plane. That last embrace. That last kiss. It wasn’t supposed to be a kiss good-bye. That kiss was the most beautiful thing she ever could have given him. So sweet. She was his angel. Sent to him by God Himself. Elizabeth. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Where are you? Please come to me, my angel. Please save me Elizabeth.

Through the light he could see her face. That soft, heavenly, beautiful, hair. Her sweet ivory skin. A treasure. Her face was the greatest treasure in the world. Those sparkling blue eyes that held all of the secrets and promises of life. He could hear her voice now. I love you Ian. I love you so much. Elizabeth. My angel. Thank God you’re here. I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been so worried. I thought I wasn’t going to make it. Its okay now Ian. I’m here. He felt her gently touching his face, with those soft delicate hands, made for handling the most precious commodity of love; his love for her and her love for him. Its okay now Ian. I’m here. He felt so happy. Such a tremendous weight had been lifted from him and he felt so much lighter. He was floating, bathed in white light. He could gently float away with Elizabeth in his arms. Its over. Everything would be alright now.

He disappeared with Elizabeth.