Tomlison, catching up hollered ahead, “Yeah, he’s like you alright. Just like you… if you’re in the kitchen.” The squad let out a collective teasing response, submitting Hooper to relive one of his multiple famed culinary mishaps.
Hooper’s ego bubble burst, “Ahh- come on, really? You gonna bring that up? That was one time.”
The men moved toward their designated transport and the banter continued as they made their way onto the plane. Stephen knew the harassment would stretch on for the duration of the flight. He readjusted his over-weighted rucksack to fit squarely upon his shoulders and clenched his duffel bag. He straightened his back and prepared to step forward but instead he hesitated, resting the duffel and breaking a promise to himself. He turned to the rear and peered into the brightly lit hanger. Behind the makeshift rope line he saw the breaking hearts of loved ones. Some waved in an effort to absorb every last moment. Several stood in silence, while others shed tears to an unknown future.
Despite the distance, Stephen found her immediately. Sarah stood in place bouncing what was now a fully awake and fully cranky toddler who insisted on squirming out from under the protection of the yellow fleece blanket. The long morning had undoubtedly caught up with Hailey and a defiant arm flung out from beneath the blanket. She had done as well as a two year old could be expected for a having being woken so early to endure long and uneventful hours under the moderate shelter of the Air Force hanger. Keeping his face locked in the stern gaze of a soldier’s discipline, he watched as his heart reached beyond the distance to embrace them. He argued with himself for not going back and spending one more moment gazing into Sarah’s hazel eyes or placing one more tender kiss on the brim of Hailey’s soft blonde hairline. How could he leave them?
Stephen’s parents, Tom and Rebecca, stood closely behind his wife. Tom looked through the crowd in an attempt to find his son. Stephen knew that his father’s vision had diminished significantly since his stroke and anything beyond twenty yards was a pure apparition. Regardless, Tom intensely searched the sea of camouflage among the dim, gray hour of the morning.
Rebecca, being the ever-helpful mother-in-law, reached over to Sarah and helped pull the blanket back over the protesting toddler. Rebecca had said goodbye to her only son and was now focused on supporting his family the best she could. His mother’s words had been sweet, sincere and uplifting. She said nothing about taking on additional duties while still serving as the primary caregiver for Tom. His mother was now a woman who lived with purpose and always expected the best of even the worst situations. She stood firm and resolute, a strength Stephen knew would be needed for the wife and daughter he was leaving behind. Rebecca noticed that her husband’s unbuttoned overcoat had fallen and was sliding down his large shoulder as he peered into the crowd. Gently getting his attention, she pulled the jacket back over her husband’s shoulder. She turned and said something to Sarah while placing an arm around the young mother.
Sarah shifted Hailey over her shoulder and into Rebecca’s arms. In the return glance, she immediately caught sight of her soldier and Stephen could see her eyes brighten as they met his. His last embrace with them had occurred around 3:45 am and somehow three hours spent in the bone-chilling cold air, supplied with the regular gust of thirty mile per hour winds coming off the flat terrain of the runway only made Sarah more beautiful. Her smile captured him, and for one single moment he was the only man standing out on that open field. He gave himself a full second to enjoy the moment and preserve his mind’s picture.
Stephen’s reasons for joining the National Guard had been affirmed many times. Experience, adventure, income; they had all been enhanced by his enlistment. Though he held only minor reservations for the dangerous road of combat which lay ahead, in that moment he would give up every advantage enlistment brought them if he could just stay with his wife and daughter. He felt an almost physical longing as his heart burned and sank deeper into his chest.
Sarah gave him a sweetly pronounced smile, then a wave and a kiss blown across the chilled paved landscape. She wiped her glistening eyes and continued waving as if she feared he would have to leave the moment she stopped. Stephen smiled and lifted his duffel bag over his shoulder so he could raise both hands to his mouth and return a set of kisses; one for Sarah, one for Hailey. As the leader of a cavalry scout squad in an infantry platoon, he had received training on several scenarios pertaining to desert and urban warfare: how to avoid fire, how to use cover and concealment, how to move to his squad in response to contact. He had been trained well on how to run into enemy territory. But no one had trained him for how to walk away from home.
Stephen committed every ounce of strength within him to the task of turning away. He began the walk towards his men who were already boarding their plane. Moving past the perimeter of the hanger Stephen scanned the crowd one final time and saw at the far end of the hanger an elderly man in a sleek black windbreaker standing separate from the longing families. With years of hard living evidenced in the stiffness of his glare, Stephen recognized the man as Corporal Waters’ grandfather; a Vietnam veteran whom Stephen had earlier watched give Waters a firm lecture on the conduct and purpose of the soldier. Having long since learned when to shut up and listen, Waters had stood there in silence taking in every word of the early morning lecture that the grandfather had clearly delivered multiple times before. His only comment had been periodic nods and a series of appropriately timed responses consisting of two words, “Yes, sir.”
Darnell Waters wasn’t the most disciplined of the squad. Perhaps it had something to do with never having known his own father and having a mother who could not commit to a job, much less a child. Out of necessity he had been raised under the strict guidance of his already aged grandparents. Growing up hearing the pessimistic voice of his periodically present mother, Waters inherently looked for opportunities to avoid responsibility. However, with a grandfather who was not one for mincing words or accepting excuses, when he did his work, Waters was deeply driven and effective. Waters had struggled with school but seeing the chiseled nature of his grandfather, Stephen understood why the young man had no choice but to graduate high school and do something productive with his life. Delivering structure and guidance, the Army had been the perfect transition for Waters. Now that the country was calling volunteers to make good on their commitments, his grandfather had made it a point to ensure the boy knew what was expected of him.
Stephen watched the grandfather standing at attention, observing the soldiers as they approached their assigned transports. The falling temperatures had no impact on the man and no attention was given to the jacket’s zipper flap relentlessly tapping the side of his face in the wicked wind. Just as the last few men began boarding the closest plane, a single, sharp, proud motion by elderly man brought his worn and weathered hand up into a crisp salute. Corporal Waters was well aware that he had a duty to this patriot who had sacrificed so much for his beloved country. Stephen knew that duty did not belong solely to Waters. It was their duty to burden together and while each step on the tarmac felt like trudging through a sandy beach in the middle of a thunderstorm, that duty was the one thing stronger than Stephen’s desire to stay with his family. Stephen picked up his pace as he watched Waters’ grandfather firmly maintain his salute. The man was steadfast, diligent and firm; giving no regard to the stream of tears descending down the crevices of his dark rugged cheeks.