No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story (18 page)

“Lieutenant, we have to vacate the area now! Our ride is waiting three hundred meters south.”

“Sergeant, get those kids out of that holding cell! What? Not our mission? Of course it’s our mission. I’ll do it myself. Lemme go! Lemme go! Uggggh!”

Cody fell to the floor, pulling Brandi with him. They landed hard but unhurt. Cody screamed in pain, like during the dream before. Then he partially returned to his senses, as if he were in two places at once.

One of the SEALs had tackled him after yelling “
incoming!”
When the airborne device had exploded, he had lost consciousness. He recovered quickly and discovered that the SEAL had sacrificed his life, having absorbed most of the blast.

Cody then pushed away the body of the dead SEAL, jumped to his feet, but collapsed immediately. His left leg had been split apart from knee to ankle.

He could see the cage with the children now engulfed in flames, smoke and a pink mist.

A CH-53 transport helicopter flew overhead, spawning a tornado of dirt and debris. But the CH-53, their intended ride home, exploded seventy-five yards away after it passed them by.

Intense gunfire then rang out from the east side of the village. The three hundred Taliban soldiers who had vacated earlier were returning.

The rescue team carried him to the edge of the ravine near the bridge, along with six badly burned children — the only survivors from the cage. In a few minutes, the enemy would be on top of them.

With blowing sand and reigning confusion, Chavez sewed double-time to close jagged wounds on Cody’s left leg and foot — the only way to prevent his bleeding to death. No time to clean the injury — dirt, feces and debris.

Brandi sat on the floor with Cody, holding on to him. He finally stopped and snatched up the water bottle that was rolling around beside him.  He was no longer choking or screaming, but his wild and distant eyes stared right through her. She picked up the wash towel again and bathed his face and neck. His skin was red and burning to the touch.

Cody slowly came back to himself. Brandi tried to help him up, but he wouldn’t move, his eyes still staring straight ahead.

“We were outnumbered, fifteen of us against three hundred. No one was coming to get us. No way to escape.”

Brandi moved directly into his line of sight and waved her hands. “Are you back with me?”

He was still distant, but his eyes softer. The redness in his face diminished. His entire shirt and upper portions of his jeans were soaked with perspiration and the runoff from the wash towel. She finally helped him back to the couch.

“Cody, maybe you should stop. You need a break. Give yourself —”

“We knew the Taliban would take the kids alive. We couldn’t bear to think about it. The six children were screaming, tryin’ to breathe.” He took several deep breaths, then finally became calm. “We grieved over them. I mean we wanted to relieve their suffering somehow.”

Brandi held her breath.

“I slapped a new magazine in my sidearm and cocked it, I knew what I had to do.” He spoke so quietly it was as if he were talking only to himself.

“But all of a sudden, five Marine Super Cobras from Camp Leatherneck appeared from over the hill. We didn’t even know they were coming.”

“Oh, dear God,” Brandi whispered.

“The gunships fired away. Practically leveled the village. I never forget the sound — children screaming, soldiers yelling, gunfire, hot ammo buzzin’ past our ears and bouncin’ off solid objects, tearin’ up flesh and bone. The Cobras sounded like a million horses stampeding. You can’t imagine. Deafening. Sickening.” He covered his ears once more and began to fade.

“Cody! Please stay with me. Look at me. Open your eyes!”

Cody dropped his hands. He was quiet, unfeeling, eyes staring at nothing. “I don’t know what hell looks like, but I know what it sounds like. I still hear it when things are quiet. Sometimes at night in my bed I tune my earphones to static, just to drown out the sound.

“When the battle was over, the children…the children were dead — all of ‘em. The official count was thirty-two dead kids, two dead SEALs, and two Army pilots.”

Brandi’s throat had tightened up. She held a cool water bottle to her face.

Cody continued, barely above a whisper. “Afterward, all was quiet. I couldn’t even hear the voices saying to get me on the helo. Those kids in the cage and Sergeant Jimmy Mason, US Navy SEAL, took an RPG meant for me. That’s all.”

His eyes were dull, fists no longer clenched, face void. She waved her hands back and forth in front of his eyes, but his expression never changed.

“If only I had gone with the SEALs when they first arrived, those kids might be alive. I went against the mission plan. I can’t describe what happens inside your head when so much sorrow and hate flood your mind at the same time. I hate the Taliban. I hate myself.”

“Babe, I’m right here.” He was still unresponsive. “Babe, here, feel my skin.”

She placed Cody’s hands on each side of her face. He warmed to her touch and then began moving his hands slowly down her neck and into the top of her jersey.

She tried to remove his hands, but he was too strong and tore the buttons off the front.

“Cody, please. You aren’t yourself. Remember what you promised my dad? About my honor?
Babe, stop!”

He suddenly focused. He panicked as remorse wound fast around his neck like a clothesline. He stumbled toward the door gasping for breath.

“Cody, wait. You didn’t hurt me.” She ran to him. “Please don’t walk out. You can’t go in public like this.”

“But how can you ever —” He fell to his knees like a prisoner awaiting execution.

“Nothing to forgive.” She shivered like a lamb in a blizzard. “You left me again, Cody. That’s what scares me more than anything.” She knelt and reached for his hands but he pulled away.

“So how much did I tell you?”

The morning sun broke through the lazy, cloudy Detroit sky. Brandi opened the drapes to let the healing light shine in, and then she went into the other room to exchange the damaged jersey for a yellow blouse.

Cody rose from his knees but stood by the door. She tried to pull him toward the kitchen table, but he wouldn’t budge.

His eyes gradually showed signs of life. “Please don’t tell Ray what I did.”

“We won’t speak of it. I’m okay. The Cody I know wouldn’t harm me.”

“The Cody you know? I don’t even know myself.”

He finally found a seat at the table. “So how much did I tell you”

“You don’t remember? I figured out you didn’t shoot any kids. Who was the SEAL? The one who protected you from the explosion?”

“Sergeant Jimmy Mason, Springfield, Indiana. He had a wife and son. I go up there each year to see them. Myra has remarried, but I want her son to know who his father was.”

“Cody, how did your scar end up in the shape of a cross?”

“The anesthesiologist, Nikki Corbett, told me that when Captain Jefferson cut across my leg to amputate, he was totally torqued.”

“Torqued?”

“That’s right. The flesh he encountered was healthy, and the swelling had diminished, so he thought that either I was the wrong patient or someone on his team had screwed up. In a matter of minutes, the infection had disappeared. At first, he couldn't accept the facts. It had to be a mistake.

“He reconstructed the bottom portion of my leg as best he could, considering pieces of bone were missing, and just sewed me back up. Then two days later, the blood flow to my left ankle restored itself, which had been a virtual impossibility — only about an eight-percent chance.

"Then I remembered the silent prayer I had prayed just before going under — exchanging my life for whatever God wanted me to do. I told Nikki about it."

Brandi’s face softened.

“I have the long vertical scar from my toes to my mid thigh, and a horizontal scar just above the knee, where the orthopedic surgeon had intended to amputate.”

“Hence, the cross.” She folded her hands.

“Roger that. Nikki said the bad news was that I would never be able to walk normally or run again, but a funny thing happened.”

“Yay! Let’s hear it.”

“Okay.” He hesitated and issued a disclaimer. “This is the part nobody knows, not even Nikki, cuz I still don’t know exactly what to make of it.” He paused again. “Whew! I could use a tall cup o' battery acid.”

“Okay.” She walked to the corner to prepare the coffee. “Keep talking. Tell me what happened.”

“Okay, but promise me that…I mean —”

“Cody, just tell me. Afterward, you need to take a shower. You’re soaked, and you smell like the wrong end of a hippo.”

He stared.

Brandi shrugged. “Just learning your flair for words.” She turned to look back and grinned. “You nearly smiled.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna work on that.”

She stood with her back to him and began filling the coffee pot.

“I coded twice on the MEDEVAC to Kandahar, but something happened that…” He paused, exhaled heavily. “I mean I didn’t remember it until I was in recovery after surgery.” He moved his chair closer to the table and leaned on one elbow.

“I, uh…I saw the thirty-two kids when I was on that flight. I saw them sitting in heaven with Jesus. I swear. It was so real. They were perfect, dressed in the finest — I mean they weren’t all burned, naked like we last saw them.”

He looked toward Brandi for her reaction. She had become as motionless as marble, just staring at the coffeemaker.

“I mean they were so happy. They looked at me and smiled. Then, I heard them say, ‘Amalga oshirish.’ Their lips never moved, but I heard them speak in unison. I swear it.”

He glanced up again. Brandi had not so much as twitched.

“It happened twice, same voices. ‘Amalga oshirish, amalga oshirish.’”

“At first, I figured the words prolly meant nothing, like it wasn’t even a real language. I asked Nikki if she knew. She said she’d find out but wanted to know why I asked. I told her I’d rather not say. She figured I had met some girl and wondered if it meant ‘I love you’ in some Afghan dialect.

“Later, she came back and told me the words mean ‘implement it’ or, the loose translation, ‘make it happen’ in a dialect called Uzbek, one of the languages spoken in northern Afghanistan.”

Brandi caught her breath and wheeled around. “Oh, Cody. That’s wonderful! God let you see the children in heaven. Do you realize how many people have longed to see what you saw?”

“So you believe me? You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Oh,” she breathed out. “Of course not. So what did you make of the words? The translation —
make it happen
— did it have some special meaning for you?”

“I thought about it for a few hours, and then it hit me.”

She brought two cups of coffee and sat down. “So what did it mean?”

“When I was drafted by the Astros in the twenty-seventh round after my junior year, I called Tanner. He said, ‘Make it happen. Make it happen.’”

“Is that an expression he uses all the time? I don’t recall hearing him —”

“No. He never says that. But that day, when I told him I’d been drafted, he said it twice, just like the kids."

“So that’s why you decided to make it happen with your baseball career finally?”

“I told Captain Jefferson the whole story — the prayer — everything except the part about the children. I said I wanted to rehab and resurrect my athletic career. He told me I would never enter a major league stadium without the aid of a wheelchair or crutches. I played in a major league all-star game last night because of
amalga oshirish.”

“God has dealt so bountifully with you, Cody. You should be at peace.”

“Like I said before, I trust God, but I don’t trust myself. People lost their lives because of me. And the hate, it still haunts me. I used to have all the answers, but now I’m a stranger to myself. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. That doesn’t make sense, but —”

“Cody, if you know who God says you are, no one else can tell you who to be.”

Cody drained his coffee cup. Then he walked over to the sink and splashed his face again. “You’re right. About the rhino smell.”

“It was hippo, and did you understand what I just said?”

“I heard. From Ray’s top five or seven or —”

“Nope. I think it popped into my head just for you, man of steel. If God loves you, how can you hate yourself?” She walked toward him and held out her arms. “I don’t care how you smell.”

He evaded her embrace and walked to the window. “What if I hurt you, Brandi? Or hurt Knoxi? You said it yourself, I left you again earlier. What if next time —”

“Go clean up. We’re both exhausted. We can figure it out later —
together.”

“Lieutenant Musket. I congratulate you on your amazing recovery. Are they treating you well here?”

“Yes sir, General. Hopefully in a few more days I’ll be out of this bed and into rehab.”

“Lieutenant Musket, I am on official business. This is not a social call. However, I am here for a purpose that gives me great pleasure and a matter I insisted on handling myself.”

“Official business, General?”

“Lieutenant, as we have agreed, you are soon to be honorably discharged from your service in the United States Marine Corps. I just happen to know a few people and we are going to make this as painless as possible.”

“Sir?”

The General pulled a communiqué from his pocket and read it. “Second Lieutenant Cody Musket, not only did your actions under fire result in the rescue of eight US fighting men and the salvation of a US Navy SEAL team under the command of Major Simon Hendrix, it also led to the apprehension of Abdul Al-Adami, a wanted terrorist who had eluded US intelligence for over five years. All these acts of bravery were performed in enemy territory under fire of combat and after you, Lieutenant Musket, had been injured in action. Your country and the entire free world owe you a debt of gratitude that can never adequately be repaid.”

“Sir, I don’t really —”

“I have come to deliver in person the announcement that you are to receive a citation for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of your life, above and beyond the call of duty. For uncommon courage under fire that upholds the highest traditions and honor of the United States Marine Corps, in light of the events above, you are recommended for the Medal of Honor, the highest award for valor in action against an enemy force bestowed upon an individual serving in the armed services of the United States.”

“Sir, there is —”

“
I’m not finished, Lieutenant!
There is another matter, now that I am completely out of breath. Captain Jefferson and Sergeant Corbett told me of this
so-called
miraculous nature of your recovery here. Lieutenant, until you crashed on my battlefield, I had decided that there was no God in heaven. Now I’m not so friggin’ sure of myself.

“And as for the shooting of Al Adami, it was an
accident
— that’s final. Do I make myself clear? Now listen up! You’ve been handed a gift. Make the best of it, and that’s an order. You go make me proud of my decisions in this matter, son.”

The General stood up, squared off, and straightened his uniform. “Are we on the same page here, Lieutenant?”

“Cody, wake up! We’re coming into Pittsburgh. Are you awake?”

“I’m not sure about being on the same page. Uh, Nikki?”

“Cody, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

He sat up. “Uh. Ummm. Guess I fell asleep.”

“Oh, you think?”

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Nearly time to meet Mama and Daddy at the Tenth Inning Grill. We all listened to you talk in your sleep.”

Sly, sitting behind the wheel, found Cody in the rearview mirror. “Hey, flyboy. We didn’t hear a word. We weren’t listening. By the way, who the heck is Nikki?”

“I was just remembering about General Plasket coming into my recovery room at Kandahar.”

“General
Abraham Plasket?”
Brandi asked. “You mean the supreme ISAF commander? He came to see you?”

“So who is Nikki?” Sly was persistent.

“Sounds like a girl to me,” Julia ribbed.

“His anesthesiologist.” Brandi was quick to answer.

“She was a sergeant. General Plasket came to let me know I was gonna receive a medal. But I felt it was undeserved. I didn’t really earn it. I sort o’ blundered into some situations that led to the capture of a wanted terrorist.”

“But you also saved those eight survivors from the helicopter crash,” Brandi reminded.

“Brandi told us that the two of you talked about Afghanistan,” Julia said. “She didn’t tell any details, but we’re so glad that you...I mean you’ve both been through so much.”

Cody became detached. He stared out the window at the Pittsburgh skyline and did not engage further. Brandi reached for his hand but he was unresponsive.

Julia and Brandi exchanged glances. Brandi shook her head. Was he retreating again? Would she ever learn to read his thoughts?

Despite her frustration, a strange new peace had embraced Brandi while Cody had slept on the seat next to her in the Escalade. She finally was free of Billy. Today, she had laid herself down like a bridge over Cody’s troubled water. Afterward, the hurt and shame from the stabbing had simply left her. Was it gone forever?

Even more miraculous was the sudden feeling of pity,
not hatred
, for her Friday-night attackers. She could no longer feel their collective breath upon her, despite sore bruises that still persisted.

The tears she had cried with Cody in center field had broken some heart fetters, but today, something new and even more powerful was in progress. A miracle?

An involuntary smile crossed her lips as they traversed the Clemente Bridge. Was her tranquility of heart only the temporary eye of a hurricane, or was it a light at the end of the tunnel? Hope was alive. What would tonight bring? What would await them in Houston? Surely, it would be good.