Читать книгу A Land Divided - Jack Wills - Страница 13

Chapter 7

Mission Complete

As soon as he disembarked from the helicopter, Bryant strode toward the barracks, bearing a smile. The mission was successful, not exactly as planned, but it was done. All that remained was to debrief with the commanding officer. Usually, that was left for the mission leader; but in this case, Shawn was the entire mission.

He dropped his backpack by his assigned cot and collapsed on top of the covers. He fell asleep immediately. His sleep was filled with dreams. He was running in a dust storm, and in the distance was a Humvee. The harder he ran, the farther away the Humvee seemed. Finally, there was only sand.

Bryant awoke. Too soon, as far as he was concerned. He had been sleep-deprived for over a week, and reality was beginning to get strange. It had been typical for him to slip into a dream or what seemed like a hallucination. Then he could go on without sleep for a while afterward.

He walked to the head and began to clean some of the dust from his time in the desert. As he splashed water onto his face, he contemplated how he would explain what happened on his mission. He had two compact flash cards full of images of the exchange in Helmand Province. The three men involved had a crate of M4 rifles, and Shawn started taking photos from his hiding place with a 400 mm lens with a 2× tele extender and high-speed camera. He didn’t stop to evaluate what he was photographing. During the mission, he was intent on getting clear photos of the men involved and any identifying information on the vehicles and the helicopter, but he believed he had a detailed documentation of the suspected guns-for-opium exchange.

The walk to Captain Fredericks’s office was short but had seemed too long to Bryant. Despite sitting in a straight-back chair in the waiting area, Shawn nearly fell into a dreamlike state. He nodded and shook himself awake. Soon, soon, he thought, I can get some sleep. I just have to get through this…

There was dust everywhere, blowing into his eyes and uniform—

“Petty Officer Bryant!”

Shawn jerked to the present, feeling totally alien. Third Class Petty Officer Tracy Gibbons announced that Captain Fredericks was ready for him. Slowly and unsteadily, he got up and entered through the open door into the captain’s office.

“Sir!” Shawn acknowledged Captain Fredericks.

“Petty Officer, if you think you can stay awake, you can sit in that chair,” Fredericks said, motioning to the chair on the other side of his desk.

Shawn sat down but remained on the edge of the chair, hoping that this discomfort would keep him awake. He studied the captain, who was moving some papers to the side.

Finally, Fredericks looked at Bryant with calm steel-gray eyes. Shawn took in the familiar visage of the officer. He was heavyset, but it seemed that most of his body was thick with muscles. Shawn guessed correctly that Captain Fredericks did his best to keep his fitness at a high level despite the sedentary nature of his job.

“So fill me in,” Fredericks said. “Tell me first how you think the mission went. Then tell me what information you have for me.”

Bryant described in brief how he had been able to get into position before the exchange and that he had been successful in obtaining photos of the unauthorized drugs-for-guns activity. He pulled out the two memory cards and placed them on the captain’s desk.

“That’s all the photos I took. There’s about a thousand photos per card. I just kept shooting. I didn’t have to change out the cards, so there is no interruption,” he explained. Bryant added that the second card was used for video, as well as still photos.

“That’s perfect, Corporal,” Fredericks said. “So tell me what you saw,” he continued.

Bryant described the scene. He noted that the exchange was between three Afghans in tribal clothing and two white men in civilian clothing. He added that the two men appearing to be civilians moved like military men. He thought they wore bulletproof vests. Each carried a pistol at their hips. He explained that the “civilians” seemed familiar with the Afghan tribal men, but he thought that would be clear in the photos and videos.

Captain Fredericks called Petty Officer Gibbons into his office and instructed her to set up the photos on a laptop. A few minutes later, she returned and set it up for Bryant and Fredericks to view the photos. They spent nearly an hour going over the photos, and several times, Fredericks nodded as though it was what he expected.

Eventually, Captain Fredericks stopped the process and closed the laptop.

“I will get some people in communications to look at these and do some enhancements.” He studied Shawn for a moment then said, “Sailor, you need some sleep. So get yourself back to the Marine barracks and get some shut-eye. I want you here by 0800 tomorrow.”

Shawn’s head had barely hit the pillow before he was snoring. The dream returned.

The closer he got to the Humvee, the deeper it was engulfed by the desert. When it disappeared into the sand, he felt a tug, and he began to sink into the sand too.

It was 1400 hours when Shawn crashed on his cot. At 0435 hours, he awoke with a start. It was dark out. Some distant security light shone through the small window of the K-Span structure. At first, he thought he was back in his cell, but then the events of the past week came rushing back into his mind. Despite sleeping for over fourteen hours, he felt a rush of exhaustion. He remained in his bunk for nearly two hours, running through his time in the desert and occasionally reflecting on his time in the brig.

Finally, he arose and prepared for the day. He didn’t have a clean uniform but was able to shower. He arrived at Captain Fredericks’s office a few minutes before he was expected but had to wait for about twenty minutes before being escorted into his office.

“I have a few things to go over with you,” Fredericks said as he pointed to the chair from the day before.

Fredericks moved around to the same side of the desk and rotated the laptop to face them. He questioned Shawn on a few particulars, then stopped the process and closed the computer.

“Let me change the conversation, Petty Officer Bryant.”

Captain Fredericks paused to reflect the change in focus. “I have information that you have at least one important email for you to read today. I have arranged for you to take the day off, and I have taken the liberty of reserving a computer at 1000 hours today for you to use a long as you like.”

Bryant thought that seemed a little urgent and asked the captain if he knew what the emails were all about. His mind was busy with the possibilities. Captain Fredericks said he could not elaborate but scheduled them to meet at 1500 that same day.

The communications room was filled with computers and soldiers, Marines, and other personnel filling the chairs lined up along the bank of screens. Bryant checked in with the technician who oversaw assignments to the various computer stations.

“Oh yeah.” The technician nodded when Bryant indicated who he was. “I have a station reserved for you. I just need to let a Marine know his time’s up.”

He moved over to the chairs and tapped a hatless bulked-up Marine on the shoulder. It was not hard to tell that he was unhappy with his disengagement from the lifeline home. Some sharp words were exchanged, but finally the Marine stood and solemnly walked out of the building.

Bryant was informally escorted to the chair, still warm from its previous occupant. He received brief and unnecessary instructions on how to access his emails and then was left alone. He pulled up his email and began to read.

Dear son,

Thanks for the email you sent to me. It’s good to know you are okay. I imagine you would not tell me if you were in danger, but at least I know you are alive. I guess that makes a strange kind of segue (I had to look it up  ) to the next topic.

I saw the doctor yesterday, and the news is not good. He told me that my lab results had indicated cancer cells in my bloodstream. He said that would explain my stomach pain and tiredness I have had for the past several weeks. Jesus, I don’t know how this could happen after everything else!

My doctor has informed my brother about what to expect. He said he was considering sending me to Bend or even Portland for more tests and treatment, but he said it was probably too late. After going over what I could expect, I agree. I have seen even more changes in the past few days. It seems so strange, but in a way, it’s a relief knowing what’s going on.

I don’t want to sound too dramatic, but I don’t know if I will be sending any more emails. I will have my brother or his wife email you with more stuff and if there are any more changes. I hate to tell you this through an email. It seems too impersonal. I hope to hear from you soon.

Love,

Mom

“Damn!”

What will I do now? I have to get back to see my mom. I can’t believe she might be dying. This feels like too much. Images raced through his mind of the fight, the brig, the mission, and now his mother dying. He felt crazy.

There was another email in his inbox. He hesitantly opened it. It was a communication from his uncle. He knew it was important if Uncle Jeff had taken time to write.

Shawn,

Your mother asked me to fill you in on what’s going on here. I think you got her earlier email and that you know by now that your mother is sick. In fact, the doctor doesn’t expect her to live more than a month. I don’t write much, but I have to let you know some of the things that are important. Your mom has taken the time to write out a will, and she even got a trust. I told her she didn’t need to do that, but she thought she should. I hope you can get here in time to see your mom, but you may not. I guess it’s hard to communicate with active military. Anyway, there are some things that you need to know. The boys and me have pretty much taken over the ranch. Your mom wanted you to know that she is selling the ranch to me. She has health insurance, but she still has considerable medical bills. I offered to help, but she thought she should take a different course. She wanted to create a trust that would make sure you were taken care of financially. She asked me to give you the details. The ranch was appraised at $4.5 million with the BLM lease agreement, house, barn, and equipment. She offered to sell it at below market value as part of my inheritance. I will be paying $4 million. I have already obtained funding for $1 million plus fees, and your mom has agreed to carry the remainder ($3 million) in a loan with a 4 percent interest annually. The loan is for one year, and I will have to come up with the money or refinance for a balloon payment. I will be making monthly payments of approximately $150,000 until I refinance. She asked me to let you know if you come home, you can stay in the house even if your mom is not with us. I don’t even care if you stay there for a long as you want. You can think of it as your place as long as you’re here. Me, Stephen, Sam, and your Aunt Sally will just work the ranch like we’ve been doing for the past year. Sorry to let you know this way, but your mom thought you should know.

Uncle Jeff

Shawn stared at the computer screen. His mind was swirling. What…this can’t be real. He felt so far away from his home. And now it was no longer to be his home. He had spent most of his early life on the ranch, working, hunting, and playing. It was all he really knew, other than Navy life and Afghanistan. The ground no longer seemed solid. He was afraid to stand. He hesitated but decided to refresh his email. A new email from his uncle popped on the screen.

Shawn,

I forgot to mention a couple of things. The most important is that your mother reminded me that your family also owns a cabin in Montana. I’m sure you remember. It’s a great little cabin on the river with ten acres, made of cedar and dating back fifty years, I think. You probably remember that your father and mother used to take you to the cabin a couple times a year. He told me that it was built by your father and grandfather. He loved it. When your dad died and your mom remarried, you didn’t get to go over to the cabin any more. Hank didn’t take much interest in the cabin. So they rented it out for vacationers to Yellowstone. You were about eight years old. I guess you remember some of that. I have only been there one time. I offered to buy it too, but Linda said she wanted to let you have the choice. I took a short trip over there just to check it out, and it’s in pretty good condition. It needs some repairs. Linda asked me to pay someone to take care of the worst problems. She also asked me to check with you to see what you wanted to do with it. I would still buy it if you were interested in selling it. Let me know when you decide.

Uncle Jeff

Grabbing his head with both hands, Shawn put his elbows on the computer desk and just sat quietly with his head bowed. The Marine next to him put his hand on his shoulder and said, “You okay?”

“Yeah, not really,” he replied. “I’ve got to go home.”

The Marine nodded and said, “I get that.”

Even though there were several soldiers, Marines, and others standing and waiting for a computer, no one interrupted Shawn or demanded he relinquish his computer. There seemed to be an understanding, an acceptance of his need to stay seated at the computer even though he was not using it.

Finally, he got up and headed back to his barrack. When he arrived at his barrack, he decided to get a shower and obtain a fresh uniform. It was impossible to sit or relax in any manner. He did some laundry, remade his bunk, repacked his backpack, and even sharpened his knife. His mind was constantly busy with thoughts of having to go back stateside and what he would find there. He was fighting tears. He had not seen his mother in over two years, and the news about her cancer was hard to take. He was totally unable to process the sale of the ranch. He had always assumed the ranch would be waiting when he got back—that it would always be a part of his life.

Shawn had frequently fantasized about owning the ranch and running the cattle up into the hills on BLM land. He also looked forward to planting and managing the hay harvest. With the conflict between him and Hank, he realized working the ranch was indeed a fantasy for the first couple years of his enlistment. When Hank’s drinking got worse, Shawn felt a small kindling of hope that he might return home to take over the management of the ranch, but he could not discontinue his enlistment. He would have to wait it out, he thought. Then his uncle and his nephews started to manage the ranch. The hope had diminished, but Shawn still clung to the idea that it was temporary. Now any hope was extinguished.

At 1450, Shawn sat outside of Captain Fredericks’s office. Petty Officer Gibbons watched him closely. She did not know why, but Petty Officer Bryant was slumped and downcast, with his head bowed and his cap in his hands. She remembered the handsome, robust, and smiling SEAL that was in her office just yesterday and wondered how this could be the same person. She was strongly attracted to him, even if he did not seem to notice her. But now she just felt concerned.

“Come on in, Petty Officer,” the captain said as he stepped through the door of his office.

Shawn got up slowly and entered through the open door. He closed the door behind him and stood silently before sitting down. Captain Fredericks noticed the change as well.

“So you have had time to read the emails,” he said without a question in his voice.

He had received an email himself from Bryant’s mother. It was sent to his command, and it essentially became his responsibility to respond. He knew that Petty Officer Bryant’s mother was dying. He did not know anything about the disposition of the ranch.

Captain Fredericks set his eyes on Shawn in a compassionate manner—as much as a SEAL captain can—and said, “So I know a little about what’s going on for you.” He described the email and said, “I can imagine that this is a very difficult time for you.” He paused then said, “I have taken the liberty of initiating transportation back to the States for you.” He paused again. He watched as Shawn raised his head and stared back at him with red-rimmed eyes.

Shawn nodded and said in a soft voice, “Thank you, sir.”

“There are some things I want to go over with you before you leave. I have written them down in this letter.” He handed the sealed envelope to Shawn. “You can open it after leaving this office. To summarize the contents, it authorizes you leave for one month. This is longer than usual, but you have provided exceptional service to this unit, and I believe it is justified under the circumstances. There is another piece. You may have forgotten, but your enlistment is up in forty-three days.” Fredericks paused again to let it sink in. He watched as Shawn registered his awareness with a look that was more inward. A look that reflected relief and confusion.

“I am offering you a bonus and a promotion if you decide to reenlist. You will be promoted to petty officer first class as soon as you sign your papers. I encourage you to do so. It has been an honor to be your commanding officer, and the Navy and I greatly appreciate your service. The next item is very important.” He watched Shawn to be sure he was attentive; then when he was satisfied, he said, “With the support of your previous commanding officer and the division of the Navy, we have completely expunged the records of the incident with Seaman Lawrence. I am not giving you a written notice of this as your involvement in this incident is no longer on the books—anywhere.”

Shawn stared at the captain. His jaw slack and lips parting, he said, “So there is no record of the fight?”

“There is no record of your involvement in this incident, and that is all I can tell you. In essence, you were never involved in any kind of altercation or investigation during your naval career. This means you would receive an honorable discharge should you decide to end your enlistment.”

“Thank you again, sir. I am very relieved to hear that.” This was the first real good news since his return from the mission. It was slowly sinking in that the incident was still on record, but that he was no longer involved. He wondered if Seaman Lawrence received that same exoneration. He doubted it, given the phrasing by Captain Fredericks.

“One last thing. I am not trying to prevent your reenlistment, but should you decide to go civilian, I have authorized you to be dismissed in San Diego, California. You will need to contact the naval base there using the email address and phone number I have provided in the letter. You may also decide to continue your service through the National Guard, although I can imagine that would seem anemic, given your service experiences. Anyway, your plane leaves at zero five thirty tomorrow. Don’t miss it!” Captain Fredericks smiled and stood.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you!”

“Thank you, sailor.”

Shawn stood at attention and smiled for the first time during the meeting. He spun on his heels and walked out of the office with an improved posture and a stronger appearance.

Third Class Petty Officer Gibbons watched him leave, and he nodded in her direction. Now that’s more like what I remembered, she thought wistfully.