Nate took another long drag before continuing. “I was just denying my calling. My time in the field had run its course. After Yemen, I just didn’t know why I was fighting it anymore, pretending to be something I’m not. That’s why I left.”
Tim nodded slowly. “I won’t deny that you’re the smartest son of a bitch I’ve ever known. Hell, everyone knew it. It’s why two-star generals would make their way over to visit the ODA and want the opinion of an E7 intel sergeant.”
“That happened once,” Nate countered.
“Doesn’t matter, brother,” Tim rebutted, using a term of endearment that Nate hadn’t heard from him in a long time. “You were always really good at the cerebral stuff. It’s what made you great. You see things others don’t, and make connections others can’t. Hell, you just proved that in there with all that Ubar stuff.” He paused to puff on his cigarette before continuing. “But you’re full of shit about the rest of it.”
Nate grinned. Tim was never one to mince words. “Meaning?”
“Meaning you were born to be a Green Beret. You’re not only smart as shit, you’re a warrior, man. How many gunfights have we been in together? How many ambushes have we survived? You forget, I’ve seen you in action over the years. You’re a solid gunslinger.”
Nate mulled it over while draining his beer. The two of themhadseen a lot of war together, but their approaches had always been different. Tim operated off instinct. He charged ahead and was driven by passion, like some kind of ancient Celtic warrior. Nate was the opposite. He quickly analyzed things that happened, rapidly assessing and turning over possible actions and reactions before settling on the best one and then acting. His way of fighting was one of clinical detachment, opposed to Tim’s methodology of passion and emotion. Both personalities were effective yet drastically different, which is what had made the two such a good team.
“You may be right,” Nate conceded. He did enjoy it. Every raid or ambush, no matter whether they were on the giving or receiving end, created a problem to be solved in which the stakes were literally life-or-death. He loved the challenge and thrived on the risk.
“Of course I’m right!” Tim beamed, pleased to be the one to sayI told you sofor a change. “You’re also the toughest bastard I know.” Tim handed him another beer.
That was high praise coming from a man Nate had always considered to be hard as nails.
“Now you’re getting carried away,” Nate said, opening the next beer and taking a sip. “Being tough and being stupid enough to get shot are two very separate things.”
“Bullshit,” Tim retorted. “We both got shot that night.” He pointed his beer at Nate. “But you carried me out.”
This point wasn’t an exaggeration. While on a mission in Wardak province with the Afghan commandos, their unit had run into a near ambush while searching for a high-level Taliban leader. Within seconds everyone in the element was dead or wounded. Tim had been shot in the chest and Nate in the leg. After returning fire and eliminating several enemy fighters, Nate returned to his friend to provide lifesaving care and carried him out of the kill zone, taking a shot in the abdomen in the process. They had made it to an emergency helicopter landing zone, or HLZ, before Nate began to bleed out and the two were medically evacuated to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany. That was Nate’s first trip to the hospital, but not his last.
Nate looked up and met his friend’s stare. He felt the gap between them closing, the shared history stirring up old feelings of kinship. “You would have done the same for me.”
Tim reached over and clanked beer bottles with him. “You’re damn right, brother.” The two men took a drink and then stood leaning over the railing and staring at the dark waters below. Several minutes passed. Just being in each other’s company once again made both men feel better. Finally, Tim broke the silence.
“Still, there’s only so many shitheads you can kill. You do have a beautiful mind, and it needs to be engaged. I’m glad you found something you enjoy.”
“I’m not going to say it hasn’t been an adjustment,” Nate admitted. “Things are much different when you can’t just tell some tenured egotistical professor to go fuck himself.”
Tim laughed, his white teeth penetrating the night through his bushy red beard. “Yeah, that’s why I couldn’t do college. Too much political bullshit, especially for a big dumb animal like me.”
“Oh, Iknowyou’re smarter than you look,” Nate said. “Though you hide it well.” Tim laughed again, and Nate reflected on how good it felt to be around someone he had experienced so much with. He was only now realizing how lonely the last few years had been adjusting to civilian life.
“Yeah, maybe” was all Tim said, still chuckling.
“So, what happened with Liz?” Nate asked, referring to his friend’s ex-wife. The two had split a year or so after Nate had left for Harvard.
“Oh, you know…” Tim pondered the question. “I like deploying, I like war. I’m good at it. I’m not so good at being home. And I’m terrible at being a husband.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Me too,” Tim said. “But I’m happy to be here with you guys.”
“Honestly, Tim, I’m not sure I’d be out here if you hadn’t come. The truth is, going back to Yemen is a little intimidating. If I didn’t have you by my side…” He left the sentiment hanging in the air.
“Hey, brother,” Tim said, clapping his rough hand on Nate’s shoulder. “I’ve always got your back.”
Nate grinned. It was true. He had no doubt Tim would happily die at his side, so long as they went down in a blaze of glory together. He had said as much years earlier in Syria. It gave Nate a sense of security that was unmatched, and it allowed him to focus on the task at hand.
“You two are adorable,” a voice came from behind. Both men turned to see Shane holding a beer and grinning widely. “You want me to see if the captain has the honeymoon suite available? You can go ahead and get it out of your system?”
“Fuck you,” Tim said. “I’ll whoop your ass.”
“You’ll try and lose,” the former UFC fighter said, not missing a beat.
