We’d been in the country for about three months. It was a boring deployment, where more time was spent shooting-the-shit than actually running missions. The one thing no one tells you about before signing up with a military branch is the concept of “hurry up and wait.” Everything seems like it’s rushed. Go, go, go! Then, once you get where you’re supposed to go, now you have to wait. Minutes, hours, days. Weeks. You wait for new plans. Strategies. I never realized how much politics played into every fucking mission. Can’t go there, that’s where so-and-so is from, and he gives us intel and/or money. We have to wait until after this election, because someone somewhere ran on a no-war stance, so we can’t jeopardize his campaign. That area of the country has too much oil, so avoid there. This path is too close to that country that really hates us, more than the country we’re in that only mostly hates us. Great.
That day, we’d mostly been hanging out. There are only so many times you can go through your gear to ensure everything is in tip-top shape, and that day, we’d already done two workouts. We had to stay in good physical shape, but couldn’t overextend ourselves, in case we got into a dogfight that required a lot of strength. And frankly, there are only so many hours in the day before it all gets incredibly boring.
So, we end up doing things like playing cards. Deployments taught me how to play poker, which still pisses my brother Dom off, because I almost always beat him on the rare occasion he hosts at his house. Some guys worked on crafty things. Others hadKindles. One guy had a notebook where he’d write poems, then turn them into lyrics. After he got out, he sold a few country music songs.
I usually kept track of everyone, made sure our rucksacks were always organized and ready to go, and focused my energy into keeping calm. When the call came down that we needed to mobilize immediately, I remember thinking it was odd. Usually, we’d know exactly where we were going, and just needed to be given the green light to go. This time, however, we were given a completely different location and target. We scrambled, getting into our convoy in what seemed like seconds.
Less than an hour later, the world blew up.
There’s something about bombs they don’t fully show you in movies. I’d assumed an IED would be so astronomically loud that it would rob my vision and steal my hearing. I’d always thought it would feel like a wall of force hitting me straight in the face, but it’s not like that at all.
I felt like the bomb came from inside my body when the vehicle lurched, metal shrieking, as it went airborne. One minute, the ground was there, and the next minute, it wasn’t. I felt pressure pushing against me, and instead of a bright light taking away my vision, it was dull white, like all the color in the world had evaporated, or been sucked out through a giant straw. Once I could see properly again, it took every ounce of patience to focus, because everything looked like my worst nightmare. It took me seconds, or maybe minutes, before I registered the hollow ringing in my ears, because I saw my first sergeant’s mouth moving, but couldn’t hear a damn word he said.
The air was filled with dirt, dust, and debris. Parts of things — I hoped I never knew exactly what — had rained down on us. I tasted dirt and copper, only realizing much later that it was my own blood that filled my mouth. The scent of burned rubber and hot metal practically suffocated me.
How had I ended up outside the vehicle I was traveling in? Igrabbed the helmet next to me, assuming it was mine, only then realizing it was still attached to the head of the corporal who’d only been with us for a month. I saw more unattached body parts in one minute than I’d ever expected to.
A quiet road, with no apparent life, now teemed with chaos. Sounds echoed around me as we all scrambled to protect our group. Radios blared, commands given, and urgent shouts as everyone seemed to sense the threat wasn’t over. We had to take stock of ourselves, our injuries, and those who were lost.
I couldn’t get up. My leg was full of shrapnel, a piece lodged in my side, and I couldn’t stop staring at the helmet in my hand. Sounds reverberated around me, some controlled, and some panicked, as I looked up into the sky. The dust and dirt began to settle, leaving a muted brown haze, but I could see glimmers of blue sky. Was this the end of my life? Did I have everything settled for my family? I remember thinking I felt peace, knowing Gianna was happy with Travis, and Luca and Arianna had both found love. At least I’d gotten to see half of my siblings find happiness. I couldn’t feel my leg. Cold began to seep into my bones, and I closed my eyes, slipping into emptiness.
The last thing I thought of was Ella.
Who would tell her? Would she be sad? I hope she knew how much I loved her. How I knew I’d never love anyone as much as her. How I wish I’d have one more chance to tell her, because she deserved to know.
A year later, after I’d been through countless surgeries at a military hospital in Germany, and more at Walter Reed Hospital in Washington DC, I’d run into Ella on the street. I’d only been home a few weeks, and had secretly devised a plan with Alex on approaching her. When I’d seen her wearing a baby, I’d lost it. I was ready to beg her to take me back, and she’d moved on. Helping her with her washer and dryer was the first time I’d spoken to her since.
“Dude,” Travis whispers. “You okay?”
I’m jarred back to the present, and I realize my hands are gripping the fabric of my jeans so harshly my knuckles are white. Looking up, I find most of the room turned to stare at me.
“You good?” Seb asks.
“Uh, yeah,” I mumble.
The speaker, Josh, cocks his head to the side, studying me. “No, you’re not. What triggered you?”
“Nothing triggered me. I lost focus. What were you saying?” I stammer. My knee begins to ache, and I absentmindedly rub it.
“What’s your name?” Josh asks.
“Leo.”
“Rank?”
“Civilian,” I snap, aggravated.
Sebastian speaks up. “He was medically discharged four or five years ago. I think he was Sergeant First Class.”
“What happened?” Josh inquires.
“Convoy got hit by an IED,” Travis supplies. “Half the squad didn’t make it. He says he’s fine, but he’s not.”
“And your name?”
“Travis Anderson. He’s my best friend, and my brother-in-law. We were both Army Rangers, but I got out a couple of years before he did, also medically discharged. Mine wasn’t the same, though. Just really fucked up my knee, and the Army didn’t want me anymore.”
“An injury doesn’t have to be ‘the same’ to qualify as traumatizing, Travis,” Josh says, using air quotes. “The Army medically discharging both of you over things neither of you controlled is still emotionally traumatizing.”
