lives-perhaps even more willing-but oddly disconnected from the real business of war, which was killing. For medics, the line that separated good guys and bad guys was refreshingly blurred by the presence of beating hearts on both sides.
Harvey just walked. He kept his jaw clamped tight and his lips pressed into a thin line, as if forcibly locking his anger inside his head.
Finally, Jonathan had had enough. “Okay, Harvey, spill it. What aren’t you saying?”
Harvey glanced at Jonathan, then returned his gaze to the road. “Anything, so far as I can tell.”
Okay, he’d walked into that one. “I need you to tell me that you’re mission capable.”
Harvey cast him a sideward glance and smirked. “By ‘mission capable’ do you mean ‘not about to wig out and frag the commander’?”
“That’ll do as a start,” Jonathan said.
Harvey took his time answering. “Don’t worry about me knowing right from wrong,” he said at last. “Killing’s never been my thing, okay? If I’ve led you to believe otherwise, I apologize. I’m way more about hiding and healing, so if you’re expecting me to do a lot of shooting, you might be disappointed. I might be disappointed. Who knows? And the part about wigging out? I just flat-out don’t know. I hope not. But if I do, I don’t owe you or anybody else an apology. You invited me to this party, remember?”
“I remember,” Jonathan said. And he appreciated the candor.
“And about your leaving that guy to die, well, it’s done. You didn’t ask my permission, and you certainly don’t need my forgiveness. There’s a reason why I was never promoted to a position of leadership in the Marine Corps.”
“Says the man who won the Navy Cross,” Jonathan said.
Harvey laughed. “A fleeting bout of insanity, I assure you.”
“I read the citation.”
“Then you know for certain that it was a fleeting bout of insanity.”
“I know that you repeatedly exposed yourself to heavy enemy fire to pull three critically wounded Marines to safety one at a time.”
Harvey avoided eye contact. “I feel like I’m repeating myself now. Insanity.”
Jonathan wasn’t about to let him get away with that. “You’re not in a Senate hearing now, Harvey. You’re with a guy who’s been there, okay? I know what you did, and I know what it took for you to do it.”
“Well, that makes you one of about three in the world then. Congratulations.” He fell into silence for a long moment, and Jonathan let him have it. He didn’t want to be too direct in looking, but out of his peripheral vision, he thought he might have seen Harvey’s eyes getting moist. No man wants that button pushed.
After a minute or more, Harvey said, “You know, I can point exactly to the moment when I realized I didn’t give a shit anymore. Want to hear about it?”
If it were anyone else in the world, Jonathan’s honest answer would have been no. All things related to touchy-feely and fully bared human emotion left him cold. But he was devoted to valor, and those who exhibited it. “Sure,” he said.
“I had a buddy in boot camp-John Avery. We got really tight. After basic, we went to infantry training together, and in the last week, he blew out his knee in some dumb-shit PT exercise, so we got out of sequence, him six months behind me. I’d finished my tour and was back in the States when I got word that John had been killed by a sniper in Anbar Province.”
“I’m sorry,” Jonathan said.
“So was I. That was at the height of my crazy period, you know? Anyway, I wanted to go to his funeral. The docs weren’t sure it was the right thing to do, but I was pretty firm, so they let me go.”
He cleared his throat. “You know, he was a young guy. What, twenty-three maybe? He had the kind of service records that they make movies out of. Great guy, terrific leader, and scared of absolutely nothing. So a sniper takes him out while he’s sipping out of a canteen at a roadblock. The funeral was everything you like and everything you dread. Lots of family, lots of tears, lots of townspeople, out in Nowhere, Tennessee.
“The Marine Corps sent an honor guard, and they did their best to make it feel military as they buried him in the yard outside of the Baptist church where his great-grandfather and everybody after him was baptized and married. It was kind of beautiful in its own right.
“And then these war protestor assholes showed up to heckle. At a fucking funeral, man. A fucking funeral. These are third-generation hippie wannabes who’ve never fought for anything, and while family and friends are trying to bury a no-shit war hero, they’re trying to make it about them. I mean, this is what we fight for, right? So that everybody can say whatever’s on their mind? At John’s funeral, the cops who were originally there as honor guard escorts ended up protecting the assholes who had nothing better to do than ruin a mother’s last memory of her son. Would you care to tell me where the sense is in that?”
Jonathan shook his head. “I couldn’t begin to.”
“Well, you see, this is where it really helps not to be crazy. ’Cause from where I sit it doesn’t even make sense to keep trying. Fuck ’em all. Then I got jammed up by some adolescent bitch who knows how the news cycle works, and I just sort of ran out of things worth dyin’ for, know what I mean?”
Jonathan did know. He’d known for decades; but the mark of an American soldier was the ability to push aside the weaknesses of politicians and slothful do-nothings to accomplish the mission within guidelines established by the politicians and slothful do-nothings. Jonathan’s years in the military had shaped his understanding of God and country. He believed with all his heart that civilians needed to be in charge, but he prayed for the day when those civilians would quit using people like him as political chess pieces.
The rain had slowed to an unpleasant drizzle by the time Jonathan and his team arrived at the village, which itself seemed strangely quiet. Clearly, the place was occupied, but the residents were apparently all inside. The three of them gathered in the center of what would be the town square if the village were in Ohio. A face appeared in the window of a nearby hut, and then disappeared.
“I’m taking theories,” Jonathan said.
“Maybe they’re all just staying in out of the rain,” Boxers offered.
“Or maybe they’re scared shitless because we’ve got enough guns and bullets to take over the country,” Harvey countered.
Jonathan leaned more toward the latter than the former. He shouted, “ Hola! Hay alguien aqui? ” He meant that to be, Hello, is anyone here?
More faces appeared in windows, but no one stepped out to greet them. Jonathan tried again. “ Me gustaria hablar con su lider, por favor. ” I want to speak to your leader. “ Somos amigos. ” We are friends. Then, to drive the point closer to home: “ Estamos aqui para herir sus enemigos! ”
Boxers chuckled. “We’re here to hurt your enemies,” he translated. “I like that.”
And so did the villagers. Two and three at a time, they wandered from their huts to see. They didn’t draw closer, but they didn’t run away, either. They gathered in clusters, talking among themselves but watching the newcomers.
“There are no men,” Harvey said.
Jonathan called out again, “ Me gustaria hablar con su lider, por favor. ”
A woman stepped forward. She could have been fifty or eighty. “Our leaders are dead,” she said in Spanish. “ El Matador killed them.”
Jonathan removed his helmet and offered his hand. “How do you do?” he said, also in Spanish. “My name is Jones. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Many losses,” she corrected. “I am Isabella. Is that man a doctor?” She pointed to the medical emblems on Harvey’s equipment pouches.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jonathan said.
Harvey doffed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “Hello.”
“They attacked my daughter today,” Isabella said. “I think she needs a doctor.”
“Show me where,” Harvey said. “I’ll be happy to help.”
Isabella led the way back to her hut, the one from which she’d just emerged. Jonathan held back while Harvey led and Boxers stayed in the middle of the yard, looking scary. Hey, do what you’re good at. Isabella stopped at the doorway and motioned for Harvey to go in first. As they approached, Jonathan heard moaning, and then caught a glimpse of movement inside. It had the look and feel of a bedside death watch. Harvey must have caught
