True Valor (34 page)

I can’t put into words why it is so nice to be back aboard a ship floating in the middle of the ocean with planes landing overhead, what makes this place more special than my apartment stateside. Here there is a sense of . . . it’s a corny word . . . but of destiny, of dreams and hopes and efforts combining to meet at one place.

That said, Bruce, I am reaching the point where I could see walking away from this and being okay with that. I’ve got the memories and the experience, and while the second time around is stupendous and I’m so thankful to have the opportunity, I can now feel the difference in perspective. If asked to walk away from this, I could probably handle it with that grace you say I have to reflect my name. Just in case we ever need to talk about that option, don’t feel like it’s taboo to bring up. I’m going to bed and I’m planning to dream about you.

All my love, Gracie

PS About the dog tags, come home and you can collect.
(-:

Forty

* * *

JUNE 23

N
ORFOLK
, V
IRGINIA

CNN was showing the weather forecast for the U.S. Grace listened to it as she worked in her closet, trying to rearrange clothes even as she set aside a few items to pack. She would be out at Nellis for three days at the end of next week. Emily settled across her sweater. “Honey, I’m not going to be gone that long. You don’t need to look so sad.”

The dog just looked at her, her head resting on her front paws. Bruce was right; Emily knew how to say a lot with her eyes. Grace offered a pair of tube socks. “Want to play?” The dog didn’t move. Grace ruffled her ears. “Jill is going to be disappointed that you don’t want to stay with her.”

The top of the hour news came on. The trucker strike in the European Union led the news. The UN water rights debate had slipped to the fourth story. Grace listened but heard nothing new in the report. Turkey and Syria were still talking about a compromise that would increase the water in the Euphrates by suspending agricultural irrigation currently being done north of the Ataturk Dam. It would be a major concession if Turkey made it. At least as long as they were talking, they weren’t fighting.

The
GW
had been conducting aggressive flight operations over Iraq, over the Turkey/Syrian borders. She wanted to be back flying with her squadron, but it didn’t look like the assignment would come through before the USS
Harry Truman
replaced the
GW.
Grace felt guilty about being stateside, knowing her squadron buddies were flying two or three hops a day and by this point in the tour would be deep in the exhausting phase of the deployment. With her missing, they would all have to cover extra duties.

Grace carried the clothes to the duffel bag on her bed, reached for the phone and dialed. “Jill, I found your shoes. Two-tone blue with a half-inch heel?”

“That’s them. Where?”

“Inside a box with snow boots.”

“The skiing trip.”

“I think so. Are you going to be home? I’ll bring them by.”

“Sure. I’m rearranging the furniture in the living room.”

“I wondered how long it would be before you did your deployment redecoration.”

“I’m going stir crazy waiting.”

“So am I,” Grace admitted. “You want to watch planes at the airport instead?”

“Let’s go to the beach. I can work on my tan.”

“I’ll come pick you up,” Grace offered.

“Bring Emily.”

“Sure. Maybe it will perk her up.”

Bruce ~

I’m stretched out on the beach soaking in the sun, well covered in sunscreen and wishing I had brought my sunglasses. Jill and Emily are building a sand house, or rather Jill is building and Emily is digging. You’re right, she’s a duchess. I’d share this sunny day with you, but I know you’ve already had plenty of sun.

I had too-ripe bananas and a mix of Cheerios and Wheaties for breakfast and so far two cookies and popcorn for lunch. I’m sure you were eager to know that. Boredom is setting in as I forgot a book to read. I’m not much for lying in the sun for the pleasure of it. How’s Wolf treating you? Keeping you nice and healthy? Of course, I know you most often get into trouble because you have to get him out of trouble.

I know from Wolf how hard it is to deploy and just be told to sit on your hands and kill time. Wolf wants to be able to do something, not just sit between two tense parties and basically be there to get in the way if someone wants to start trouble.

It is my hope that you are so bored you are making your version of sand castles to kill time and that you will eventually get the orders to pack and come home without ever having to act. There is a growing chorus here among civilians about intervening in the Middle East, intervening in the Sudan, and intervening in the dispute Turkey is having with Syria. They don’t have people on the front lines. I hope you come home without ever being asked to do anything but be a presence and watch.

At the end of next week I’m heading to Nellis for a few days to get some real flight time in on the bombing range, see if I can get back my timing and shake out any lingering trouble with handling g’s. They call it a refresher course; I’m looking at it more from the perspective—been there, done that, now how do I do it better the next time? I never want to lose my flight buddy again, or see the earth spinning toward me. One crash in my lifetime was enough.

Seagulls are diving the beach at the moment, creating an enormous racket. I’m afraid Emily is going to have a coronary she’s so excited. Wish I had a camera to catch this moment for you. Love you. Thinking about you.

Missing you.

Grace

Forty-One

* * *

JUNE 27

T
URKEY
/S
YRIAN
B
ORDER

Wolf spat dirt and sand out of his mouth. “I hate sand.”

“Keep your voice down,” Bruce whispered as he hauled his friend up.

“Where’s Bear? Cougar? They’re late. I don’t like it.”

“I’m sure they’re having as much fun as we are. Our guide is waiting.”

Wolf cleared his weapon and stepped back up onto the path. “I still hate the sand. And trip wires. Even fake ones.”

“I was admiring your reflexes,” Bruce replied, trying not to smile.

“This is a place for snakes, not people. Now since I’m here to protect your backside, get moving.”

Bruce grinned and resumed the hike. They’d been walking up the faint mountainside trails for an hour, the path grade increasing the entire time. Bruce had been in this area before, only from the air last time. Gracie’s plane had gone down a kilometer to the south. Their guide was a Turkish army officer, and along for the hike were two men from the embassy, both former Army officers, a lingering reality of the Gulf War when diplomacy and war had been intertwined.

Bruce shifted his heavy backpack, hoping he had packed the right medical supplies. It was hard to prepare when the patient and the problem were left as need to know, and they told him the medic didn’t need to know. The fact SEALs had been assigned to come along for security was a pretty good indication this was not a safe place for tourists to visit.

At the turn of the trail the Turkish officer who was their guide stopped. “We wait here.”

“For what?”

He didn’t answer, simply sat down with his back to a big rock where he could watch the other side of the trail. The two embassy officers slid off the communication equipment they carried and sat down too. Wolf shook his head and started climbing up on the rocks beside the trail to get to higher ground. Bruce followed him.

“I’m betting it’s a PKK officer.”

“Maybe,” Bruce replied. “The earthquake was severe in this region, and yet few casualties were reported. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“Not many people risk living in this territory. It effectively changes hands every few years.” Wolf scanned the trail ahead with night binoculars. Bruce set aside his pack, glad in a small way to have something to do tonight rather than sit at the forward operating location looking at canvas tent walls. It was a beautiful night out, the stars incredibly bright this far from the nearest town.

“There comes Bear and Cougar. Finally.”

“Getting tired of babysitting?”

“Only the embassy spooks.”

They dropped back to the path to meet them. The two SEALs arrived in the company of a third man. He was an old man; that was Bruce’s first impression. An old man with incredible sadness in his eyes.

The man looked around the group, sighed at the sight of the Turkish officer, nodded to the two embassy officers, and stopped when he saw Wolf. “You are Navy SEAL also?”

“Yes.”

“Long ago, I walked with SEALs into Iraq.”

“You were a guide?”

The old man nodded. “Yes. Guide.” Bruce found himself being assessed. “My grandson. You will help him?”

A child. The kind of patient that invariably haunted him. “I’ll do everything I can,” Bruce replied, wondering what he had just been dropped into.

“Call me Jim. Come.”

Wolf waited until the man was some distance ahead, then joined up with Bear. “Jim?”

“Could be. He’s about the right age and build.”

“What?” Bruce asked.

“During Desert Storm, there was a guide who helped SEAL Team 5 blow up a number of hidden Iraqi chemical weapon storage sites. Jim was the name he went by.”

“Where are we going?”

“No idea. But he’s definitely our safe passage in and out.”

It was a thirty-minute walk into the mountains. Bruce was surprised when the man led them to a small plateau that had been built up as a homestead. There was a fence to keep a few sheep, chickens. Three large tents were built up on a wooden floor. Bruce was willing to bet there were normally many rebels staying here, but tonight the place looked deserted. He was still surprised that the man would give away the location of where he had obviously lived for many years.

Jim gestured for the others to stay here and he pointed at Bruce. “You and one other.” Bruce nodded to Wolf. The old man led the way to the largest of the tents.

It was lit by three lanterns but was still dim. The lady of the house, a woman probably in her sixties, rose from the side of the bed as they entered. Bruce nodded a greeting and offered a smile. “Ma’am.”

She was exhausted and worried; he saw that as he met her anxious gaze. He lowered his medical pack as he watched Jim have a whispered conference with her.

She nodded and waved them over. “My wife,” Jim said simply. “My grandson.”

The boy was maybe twelve years old with raven black hair. He was asleep but the fever was apparent, as was the pain. Bruce wasn’t a doctor, but it wasn’t the first time he had been asked to act as one. Twelve years of medical training had taught him enough to know when he could help and what was beyond him. The boy must have been ill for several days if the grandfather had taken the extraordinary steps to arrange this visit. Asking what was wrong was a rather stupid way to gain the grandparents’ trust. “His name?”

His grandmother smiled. “Jamael.”

“I will go see the others are comfortable,” Jim said and Bruce nodded, grateful the man trusted him enough to let him work. He accepted the chair he was offered. The grandmother carefully moved the blanket, and Bruce saw she had it draped as a tent not to touch the boy’s leg.

“Whew.” Wolf got caught by surprise and waved his hand to disperse the smell of rotten eggs.

Bruce carefully opened the loose bandage on the boy’s leg. Festering blisters and black skin. “Burns.” And not the kind he often saw. The last time he’d seen this kind of injury was at an evacuation for an erupting volcano in Japan.

Wolf set up the torchlights they had brought to give Bruce better lighting. “We should have brought more water with us,” he said. “Go ask the other guys to hand over their canteens.”

The lady squeezed his shoulder. “Water? I get.”

Bruce nodded. It was a scarce commodity. He’d use what she brought but make sure they offered what they had as a gift before they left. “Smell the sulfur?” he asked Wolf.

“Oh yeah.”

“These are recent burns. He’s been near an open fissure that had magma or hot gaseous mud popping in it. How do we find out where he was?” Bruce carefully moved aside the bedding to check and see if the boy was burned anywhere else.

“They aren’t going to be volunteering the information.”

“Others are going to get hurt if it’s still active. People, animals, not to mention the chemical contamination to the surrounding area.”

“Couldn’t satellites spot the heat?”

“We’re talking about somewhere a child would play. A ravine, something small. And if the boy found one, there are probably more of them. Syria had a bubble hit Lake al-Assad, there was one at Birecik Dam, and this countryside probably has several of the sulfur and methane pocket fissures. The earthquake must have ruptured a rock plate that stretches the length of this region and opened it close to the ground.”

The boy’s left hand and arm had a couple small serious burns as well. He tried to brush off whatever had hit him. Bruce carefully lifted the boy’s arm to rest on a pillow. “Did you see Jim’s hands? He’s probably also dealing with a few burns from trying to rescue his grandson.”