The Severance (4 page)

Fortunately, even with a stop at Sabari District Center to drop off LT Hunley’s platoon, the flight back to Forward Operating Base Salerno took only about 22

minutes. Upon touchdown, Jake was greeted by a truck and a soldier with orders to escort him to the Battalion Tactical Operation Center. As a rule, if anything big happened out in sector, the officer in charge of the chaos got an earful of either praise or disdain right away.

Given what had gone down out there in Sabari, Jake was sure that the next few hours weren’t going to be pleasant. He had ordered the captured enemy equipment loaded into the truck and told Sergeant McBride to turn in all of the mission essential equipment and remaining ammunition. Without equipment or ammunition, there was no way the platoon could get assigned another mission and the guys could now impatiently wait for their flight back to the United States. A flight out of a hellhole.

“Want me to go up there with you?” McBride asked.

“Nah, wouldn’t change the outcome at all. Just take care of the boys, and I’ll let you know how it comes out,” Jake replied, as he hopped into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

The ride to the TOC only took about 90 seconds. It was almost ridiculous to send a vehicle for him. However, Jake was in no mood for walking and made no complaints. In five minutes he would be chewed out by his superiors, anyway.

Getting yelled at by a lieutenant colonel was a fairly regular occurrence. In fact, Jake had been admonished and reprimanded by much more senior officers. He had become so used to being censured that his heart rate didn’t spike unless his admonisher was a brigadier general or better.

Jake was tired and bored, standing at attention, as he watched the three officers—his own commander, LTC Morris; CPT Slater’s commander, LTC Smith; and the commander of the aviation task force, LTC Miller. All three were glaring at him like predators. Still, his mind wandered as he asked himself whether he’d taken his daily multivitamin.

“Captain Roberts, just what do you think you were doing out there?” LTC Smith, the incoming unit commander, led off.

“Uh, I was killing the enemy, Sir,” Jake replied flatly.

LTC Smith was the angriest of the three LTCs. Jake understood the man’s agitation—one of his company commanders had just been put out of the fight on his first mission. A lot of time, money, training, and mentoring went into the creation of a company commander. Company commanders were a reflection of their battalion commanders. Captain Slater got himself shot like an idiot, and that reflected badly on LTC Smith who, like most senior officers, was incapable of accepting blame, so his only logical course of action was to take out his anger and frustration on Jake.

“Listen, smartass, I’m in no mood for your jokes. How could you let this happen?” LTC Smith asked, his face turning red. The question was rhetorical. Smith liked to hear his own voice at full volume. Jake knew this, but decided to push Smith’s buttons anyway.

“Let ‘what’ happen, Sir?” Jake asked, slowly eking out the words.

Beads of sweat began to form on Smith’s forehead. Encountering a junior officer who didn’t immediately shrink under this kind of scrutiny from a superior was a rarity. Sometimes they cried.

“Captain Slater was shot!” he bellowed. “Don’t you feel responsible?”

“Sir, the enemy shot Captain Slater and that is not my fault. We did kill the guy who shot Captain Slater, if that helps,” Jake replied.

“You know, I’ve heard about you, Captain, and your little escapade in Iraq. It might be prudent to check the bullet pulled out of Doug Slater’s leg against the ones in your rifle,” Smith barked.

“It’s a plausible explanation, Sir,” Jake said carefully. He knew full well that they’d all watched the firefight unfold live in thermal black-and-white from the circling Predator UAV. Smith was trying—and failing—to put Jake on the defensive.

LTC Smith rose from his chair as if prepared to cross the small room and physically attack Jake. He stomped his foot and yelled a litany of profanities, until LTC Morris gently grasped his forearm. Smith looked at the other man’s hand as if it were a foreign object, but he cleared his throat loudly, wiped his forehead, and sank back into his chair. Morris must have senior-officer magical powers, Jake surmised.

“Why did you order the use of Hellfire missiles?” LTC Miller, the aviation task force commander, asked. Miller was responsible for all the aircraft in the area, including the gunships that Jake had used to destroy the mud hut. He presented a calmer demeanor than Smith.

“Thirty mikemike was not effective against the target, Sir,” Jake replied. He decided to be serious with Miller, partly because he thought it would make LTC Smith even angrier.

“I’ve spoken to the pilots from the mission, and I understand that the chain gun was not getting you the results you were looking for,” Miller said evenly, continuing, “but the International Security Assistance Force Tactical Directive—”

“The ISAF Tactical Directive has no provisions for munitions restrictions,” Jake interrupted. He was treading on dangerous ground interrupting a senior officer, but the point had to be made—the document, issued just last December, was not intended to restrict anything.

Miller didn’t seem to mind the interruption. He continued, “You are correct. There aren’t any munitions restrictions in the directive, but we have to be very careful what we use Hellfires on. They are extremely destructive and shouldn’t be employed until absolutely necessary. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh, I totally agree, Sir,” Jake replied.

LTC Miller smiled. Jake became wary. Was the senior officer preparing to knock some sense into him, a young impressionable officer? Maybe he thought Jake would always remember this encounter as a time when he learned an important lesson.

“Now, was the Hellfire missile really appropriate for that target?” LTC Miller asked, crossing his arms.

“The Hellfire was the best and only effective weapon for the task, Sir,” Jake replied.

Miller scowled as he thought for a moment. “Well, why did you order the second missile, if the first was effective?” he asked.

“Risk reduction,” Jake fired back instantly.

“Risk reduction?”

“Risk reduction. That’s correct, Sir.”

“Hellfire missiles are expensive ordinance, Captain, you shouldn’t waste them.”

Jake was growing bored again. Recalling some of his better reprimands, he judged this one not to be in the same league. Once upon a time, when a lieutenant colonel raised his voice, he would have trembled in fear. Now he simply wondered what he’d missed on
Sports-
Center
. It was five in the morning and he had grown weary. Jake decided to relent.

“Roger, Sir. I won’t waste ordinance again,” Jake said finally.

“Good, see that you don’t,” Miller added on a note of triumph.

LTC Morris, who had remained silent throughout all this, finally decided to speak.

“Gentlemen, if it is all right I’d like to speak to Captain Roberts in private.”

On the way out, Smith stopped in the door and turned.

“There will be an investigation of this, Roberts, and you will be sorry,” he warned, shaking his finger at Jake.

“I’m already sorry. I hope Captain Slater feels better, Sir,” Jake replied in a professional monotone.

Taking a deep breath, LTC Smith turned, and walked out the door. Now the room was empty, except for Jake and his commander. The silence between the two men became awkward. LTC Morris casually flipped through his date book, pausing every few seconds to make a notation with a red felt-tip pen, never once making eye contact with Jake.

Jake knew this routine all too well. Months earlier, he had sneaked into the colonel’s office and read his date planner. The red notations in the margin were doodles. Mostly tanks, fighter planes, and stickmen soldiers, but also more than a few puppy and kitten doodles. Morris was just killing a few minutes to let Jake get uncomfortable. Once again, Jake reflected that everything in the Army was done for show; nothing had substance. The words Morris was about to say were only of trivial importance compared to the tone he used when he said them. Morris could have pulled out a copy of the phone book and randomly read selected names for a half hour that would have been just as meaningful.

“Sit,” the senior officer ordered softly as he looked down at his doodles. Jake quickly sat in the padded chair located directly in front of the commander’s desk, the hot seat, but one that would finally rest his aching back. Years of wearing body armor and carrying a pack had aged him. Closing his date book and shuffling the papers on the desk, the battalion commander finally looked up and made eye contact.

“Well done, Captain,” Morris said. Jake felt himself relax a little.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Quite the impressive little show you put on.”

“The Apaches did most of the work.”

The commander reached down into his desk and retrieved a Red Bull energy drink. LTC Morris loved energy drinks; in fact, he loved anything with sugar or caffeine in it. Though he had enough to share, Morris did not offer Jake a Red Bull.

After opening the can and taking the first sip, Morris continued. “Don’t worry about that hothead Smith. There isn’t going to be any investigation.”

“I wasn’t really worried about it, Sir,” Jake said.

“No, come to think of it, I couldn’t imagine that you would worry about another investigation,” Morris said, taking another sip of his Red Bull.

Jake wondered if there was any way that he could get the colonel to let him leave. If Morris wasn’t going to chew him out, Jake didn’t want to stick around to chat.

Finally, after minutes of savoring his beverage, Morris came to his point. “The call came down from Division. You and Specialist Eastman are getting Bronze Stars for Valor. The rest of the platoon will get Army Commendation Medals for Valor.”

Jake almost stuttered in his reply. He hadn’t even had time to take off his boots and they’d already decorated him. He and the platoon had been in many even-moreintense battles and had barely gotten a pat on the back. Of course, this fight had been different because there’d been an audience.

“Sir, I’m not sure if I deserve anything like that,” Jake said, trying to sound grateful. In actuality, he would accept the medal without compunction, but he knew he should at least appear to be humble.

The commander waved his free hand in a dismissive motion, as he took another long swig of his Red Bull. Finishing its contents, Morris set the can on his desk.

“Nonsense, Jake, division commander was watching the whole firefight on UAV feed. Everyone from here to the Pentagon saw you cap that guy from the hip and on the run. The awards were signed before you guys even got picked up. The general will touch down here in two days to pin you and the boys.”

Jake slumped his shoulders as he thought about the insurgent he’d killed. Did he have a mother? He must have. Everyone had a mother. It was a bad situation all around, but Jake tried to put it out of his mind. After all, he was LTC Morris’s enforcer. He had to do what was necessary.

“You all right, Jake?” Morris asked, sensing something was wrong.

“Oh no, Sir, I’m fine. Just a little tired,” Jake quickly responded.

Morris shifted the subject. Jake waited to hear the fate of his platoon once they got back to Fort Campbell.

“Jake, in light of the platoon’s outstanding performance tonight, I’ve taken the time to thoughtfully reconsider upgrading the men’s discharges,” Morris said.

“Yes, Sir,” Jake said, only to acknowledge that he was still paying attention.

“Son, I really wish I could grant your platoon general discharges, but one good night doesn’t make up for the things you soldiers have done. I’m telling you this because I want you to know that I really did reconsider,” Morris said.

What the commander had just said was an insult to Jake and the platoon. It hadn’t been one good night. The Kodiak platoon had done admirably for the entire deployment. Morris had decided not to upgrade simply because he didn’t want to lose face with his peers. When officers made it as high as Morris, they were expected to make the right choices the first time and stick with them. So there was no way the commander was going to keep the bargain he’d made with the men about their discharges. Jake felt more than tired now; he felt dejected. The Kodiaks had risked their lives believing that they’d be let out of the Army with at least some of their honor intact and now they were going to be thrown out on the street. Jake just wished Morris could have come up with a better excuse for going back on his word.

“Do you have a plan for your civilian career?” Morris asked. Jake, like the rest of his soldiers, had no future in the Army. The black marks on his record could never be forgotten, let alone forgiven. Even a medal for bravery couldn’t salvage Jake Roberts’s career.

“Sir, I’m going to get out, go to law school at the University of Virginia, and be an attorney like my dad,” Jake said.

The older man let out a long sigh. He stared at Jake. “If you hadn’t been such a screw-up early on, there was no telling what you could have achieved in the service.” And Jake thought, Yeah, and you are left with dud officers with spotless records, unchecked ambition, and no talent.

“So it’ll be the family business then,” Morris said, leaning back in his chair.

“I figure if I was a lawyer, the next time I get myself in a jam, I can just fix it myself,” Jake said.

The older man gave a slight chuckle. Jake hoped that meant that while Morris could never condone what he had done, Morris respected the fact that Jake had never offered an excuse or tried to shift the blame. Maybe Morris even believed he had accepted his fate like a man.

“Okay, Captain. I won’t keep you any longer. You need to get some rest and I need to clear out of this office so that Colonel Smith can move in,” Morris said.

Jake got up from his chair. “Son, just one last question,” Morris said.

“Yes, Sir, of course,” Jake said.

“Just why did you join the Army?” he asked.

This was one question that the commander had never asked Jake before. The audacity of it impressed him. The old man could still throw a curve ball once in a while.