Fives and Twenty-Fives (40 page)
I nodded my head, and Gomez stepped by me. She brushed against my shoulder as she left, walking the long way back to the company compound, shoulders back, all confidence, alone.
Doc Pleasant entered my field of vision as I watched her go. He stood by our truck with a confused look on his face. The trauma bag hung low on his shoulders and was filthy. Not only did mud cake the fabric, but the supplies he’d drawn from the hospital, the gauze pads, bandages, and alcohol wipes, poked through the zippers, so haphazard a job he’d done of stuffing them inside.
He stared at me with glassy eyes and a wry smile. He gestured at Gomez with his chin, his mouth open and a question seemingly stuck at the back of his throat.
I felt the urge to charge him, to tackle and choke him. The anger curled my fists, but Doc didn’t seem to notice. He persisted with his slack-jawed smile, and any sense of obligation, of debt, owed to my corpsman melted away as I pushed back through the vinyl flaps and into the hospital tent.
Inside, the first doctor I found was a Navy commander. Tall, with gray hair longer than regulation, he reminded me of the first doctor I’d visited as a child. He looked busy, so I stood in front of him and blocked his path.
“Sir, can I speak to you for a minute about Corporal Zahn?”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“My corporal, sir. He’s here with a concussion.”
“Ah, yes. Zahn. He’s fine. Returned to duty. Anything else, Lieutenant? We have a helicopter coming in.”
“One more look, sir. That’s all I’m—”
“Lieutenant, your corporal is just fine. And if that’s all . . .”
He moved to get around me, but I blocked his way. “No, sir. There’s one more thing.” The next words spilled out of me, as though I had no part in choosing them. “I think I need an audit of my corpsman’s controlled medications.”
The doctor frowned, taken aback. “Really?”
“Yes, sir. I think someone needs to come take a look.”
He nodded gravely. “Engineer Support Company, is it? Thanks for letting me know.” He walked toward the emergency receiving area. “I’ll make a note and get back to you as soon as I can.”
The investigating officer arrived two weeks later.
After Ramadi.
Dodge. So you're okay?
That's good news. Whatever you need, I'll do my best to get it to you. But you should know that I might not be the best reference. You had already left by this time, but I got kicked out of
the military. I'm doing better now, but that stuff
doesn't go away. I know someone who might be a better choice.
I lift my fingers off the keyboard and give it some thought. Last time I saw Kateb and the lieutenant together, they were trying to kill each other. Zahn and I had to separate them.
I stand and walk over to the window. The apartment’s one, single window. Kinda strange that the lieutenant lives in such a sad, small place. I always thought that college boys had it different, somehow. Otherwise, what’s the point? But here he is, like he’s trying to fit his whole world into a lifeboat.
But shabby and cramped as it is, there’s a nice feeling to this room. He takes care, you know? Keeps it spotless and uncluttered, except for that pile of books next to his desk. Who knows what’s going on with
that
. With everything else so squared away, the mess he makes of his book pile seems intentional.
I go to the fridge, taking up the lieutenant’s offer that I help myself. There, I find where he keeps those fine, college-boy tastes. His fridge is just as filled with beer as Paul and Landry’s, only the lieutenant’s beer looks a hell of a lot more expensive.
My hangover’s starting to ease up. Still bad enough that as punishment I let myself gaze on all that expensive beer, lined up in neat, pretty rows. Maybe I’ll finally make the connection, you know? Nothing to go to a meeting over, just so long as I remember how this feels.
My phone buzzes with a message from Lizzy, driving home the point: “So . . . *that* was weird. But whatev. Call me sometime, guy.”
I read it, feel nothing, and go back to the lieutenant’s computer to finish my e-mail: “I don’t know how satellite phones work. But here’s a number you can call.” I pause to find that note the lieutenant had left, his number on the back.
Dodge had just come back from visiting his family, and the lieutenant had just come back from the hospital with Zahn, and for some reason Dodge and the lieutenant were both real moody for about a week.
Dodge wouldn’t even talk to me, not that I’d have minded or even noticed. My stash had grown real complex by then. Real powerful.
Our next mission back out on the road, Major Leighton sent us into Ramadi.
The lieutenant tried to fight it, I know, because he came out from the operations center fuming mad to give us the order. He was so pissed, so furious crazy, Lieutenants Cobb and Wong came out to watch like they thought it was some fucking stand-up comedy show.
When we left Taqaddum and got out on the road, I found out why.
“Michigan’s blocked,” the lieutenant said to Zahn. “This secondary route we’re taking, it has some serious issues.”
“How’s that, sir?” Zahn asked, spitting into his bottle.
“It’s too narrow as we turn north into the city, for one thing. And there’s a bridge I’m not crazy about. This curve looks too sharp for the long-bed seven-ton.” The lieutenant traced it on the map with his finger. “Major Leighton wouldn’t listen. If one of our trucks tips over and blocks that bridge, there’ll be no way into Ramadi from the east. Worse, it’ll block Hurricane Point, so they’ll have no way to get a quick-reaction force into downtown if they need it.”
“Anything you want me to do about this, sir?” Zahn asked.
“No, goddamnit,” the lieutenant spat. “I just want you to be cognizant, Corporal. Show some goddamn situational awareness.” It was the only time I ever heard him curse at Zahn like that.
Zahn shrugged it off. “Roger, sir.” He’d heard worse, I guess.
But then Dodge mumbled something under his breath, and Donovan jumped on him. “What was that, Dodge? What did you say? If you have a comment, I suggest you speak up.”
“Poor Americans, is what I said. I was pitying you, for having to make due with our narrow Iraqi bridges. Too ghetto-rigged for you? What? Didn’t bring your own? You can land on the moon but you can’t build a simple bridge?”
“Fuck you,” Donovan said without hesitating. “And shut the fuck up. Don’t open your mouth again unless I ask you to.”
“Fuck me? Fuck me? Fuck
you
!”
“What did I just say!”
Zahn stepped in, shy about telling his lieutenant what to do, but needing to control his vehicle somehow. “Gentlemen. Take a breath. Watch your sectors. Please.”
They went back to their corners and fretted, but the air in the Humvee had soured. There wasn’t much time to think about it, though. Because pretty soon we were coming up on the bridge that had the lieutenant so worried.
He got on the radio. “Gomez. Tell your guys to be real careful with this turn.”
Then, like he’d jinxed it, the long-bed seven-ton that was two vehicles in front of us bottomed out. Sparks flew from its undercarriage, and like in a slow-motion bad dream, the truck tipped over and came to rest on the bridge’s guardrail.
Gomez jumped out from the Humvee in front of us with two other Marines and ran up to make sure no one had been crushed. Both guys crawled out, just fine. But there was no way to move the truck. The bridge was completely blocked.
Lieutenant Donovan buried his head in his hands. “Fuck. We need a recovery vehicle for this.”
“Orders, sir?” Zahn asked softly.
“I don’t fucking
know
, Zahn!” the lieutenant screamed. “All right? Fuck! Get security pushed out! Show some initiative! Do something without my having to tell you!”
Dodge, in the backseat with me, laughed.
Donovan looked like he could kill. Like he was
about
to. “Something funny, asshole?”
“Yes. Funny is an interpretation, surely. But interpretation is what you pay me for, right?”
“Get the fuck out.” the lieutenant said, catching himself as he unbuckled. “Get the fuck out of the vehicle, Dodge.”
“Sure, man! Just a free Iraqi, going for a walk on a highway in his own country.”
A flight of two helicopters, Marine attack birds from the squadron in Taqaddum, came in low over top of us. I saw them through the turret and heard them on the radio when the noise of their rotors passed.
The radio squawked, “Hellbox Five-Six, this is Profane Two-Four. Please advise on your situation. Do you require casevac?”
They were hailing our convoy by its call sign and asking for the status of our truck, sprawled out on its side at the entrance to the bridge. They wanted to know if we had any injuries from the wreck.
“Sir,” I said. “Sir, I think that helicopter’s calling you.”
But the lieutenant was still in Dodge’s face, not listening to anyone. “Come on, jackass. Say that shit again.”
“Say
what
,
Mulasim
?” Dodge jeered. “That you are incompetent? That you should go home now? Maybe fuck your own country?”
This was about to get real ugly. I unstrapped myself, left the vehicle, and grabbed Dodge around his chest. Zahn did the same thing with the lieutenant and we held them apart for a moment, best we could.
But they were still screaming at each other. Still calling each other every kind of bad name, until the helicopters came over top of us again, drowning out their voices.
One of the pilots hovered, turned back like he wanted to get another look at the shitshow we’d created on that bridge, then accelerated away out over downtown Ramadi.
I watched the helicopter the whole way, until that missile, with its white-smoke trail, came streaking up from somewhere in the city and set it on fire.
From: Commander, Multi-National Forces West
To: Investigating officer
Subject: Command investigation into the loss of Profane Two-Four
1
. This letter appoints you, per chapter two of reference (a), to inquire into the facts and circumstances surrounding the loss, due to enemy action, of coalition helicopter call-sign Profane Two-Four, which occurred near Ramadi, Iraq.
2
. Investigate the circumstances of the enemy attack, which resulted in the loss of the aircraft, and two (2) Marines killed in action.
3
. Investigate any fault, neglect, or responsibility therefore, and recommend appropriate administrative or disciplinary action. Report your findings of fact, opinions, and recommendations in letter form within two weeks of receipt of this order, unless an extension of time is granted.
From: Investigating officer
To: Commander, Multi-National Forces West
Subject: Preliminary statement, command investigation into the loss of Profane 24
Encl:
(
1
) Serious Incident Report, dated
31
August
(
2
) Transcription of interview with Corporal Walter Zahn
(
1
) Transcription of interview with “Dodge,” coalition-employed local national
(
4
) Transcription of interview with Hospitalman Lester Pleasant
(
5
) Personnel Casualty Report, case of Sergeant Michelle Gomez
(
1
) Bronze Star recommendation, case of Second Lieutenant Peter Donovan
Command Investigation, Enclosure
1
:
Serious Incident Report, re: enemy attack on Profane
24
Combat Air Patrol, call sign Profane
24
, attacked by surface-to-air missile. One AH-
1
attack helicopter destroyed. Two (
2
) friendly killed in action.
Major (Name Withheld), casualty identification number ED
431
, killed in action. Captain (Name Withheld), casualty identification number ED
561
, killed in action.
Marine Light Attack Helicopter Squadron
435
.
1455
ZULU.
Grid unknown at this time. Ramadi.
Approximately
1500
meters north of Tigris Bridge.
Immediate search and rescue mission initiated, tactical recovery of aircraft and personnel. Units from Engineer Support Company, uninvolved with the initial crash, set security and recovered remains of friendly killed in action.
Remains of friendly killed in action returned to Camp Taqaddum for disposition.
No further remarks.