I looked ,at that stem face, remembered all the times when seeing that particular expression would freeze me, would frighten me, would make me do or say anything to get away from that look. But it didn’t look frightening, not now, not after the past few days. It just looked tired and angry.
I sighed. ‘Yeah, I’m sure you will.’
‘Damn right,’ he said. ‘So here I was, fighting the new war, the war of bureaucrats, trying to find out from what department something might be learned about your fate, Samuel. One office passed me off to another office, one unit to the next. Some people thought you were just missing, others thought you might be a prisoner of one of those gangs of thugs. About the only good fella I met was that black Marine assigned to your unit, Charlie something-or-another.’
‘Charlie Banner,’ I said.
Yeah, Banner,’ my father said. ‘I could talk to him, you know? Like one professional soldier to another.’
I opened my mouth to say something, thought better of it, though my father noticed right off. ‘Hey, I know what you’re thinking, right? A professional soldier. Maybe an oxymoron, right? We’re just trained killers with no brains, sent in to kill or destroy or blow up things. How can we be trained to do anything except that? But listen to me, young man, it’s the trained ones who protect you and your friends. And it’s the trained ones who are called in to clean up other people’s messes, other people’s disasters. Your great-grandfather and grandfather served their country well in uniform. And I did my best as well, despite what happened in Somalia. So there.’
I rested my hands on the stained table. ‘So there. A nice answer, Father. Look, I’ve heard the lectures about the military plenty of times. And I know you wished I had joined the military instead of going into journalism. Let’s just leave it be, all right?’
He stared at me for a moment and I felt a twinge of regret, knowing what was going on inside his mind. His failure as a husband, as a soldier who wanted nothing more than to have the Simpson military gene passed down to another generation. A chance, maybe, to redeem the Simpson family name, which had been burnished at Dieppe and in Korea, and had for ever been tarnished in a hot and dusty place called Mogadishu.
I smiled. ‘Look, Father. I appreciate you coming here. I really do. But seeing you here… well, it was just a start, that’s all.’
He took another sip from his teacup. That seemed to mollify him some, and he looked around. ‘They don’t know how easy they have it here,’ he said, his voice lower now, like he was confiding in me. ‘Here they have power, hot water, hot food and pretty safe conditions, if they keep their noses clean. In Somalia we had tents, dirt everywhere, flies and other vermin, and no air-conditioning, no power, nothing. Here they have the militias. Big deal. They’re a minority out in the towns and counties. A well-armed minority, but still a minority. Back in Somalia there was no government, no officials. There were clans and sub-clans, with alliances shifting from week to week. Here, negotiation is dealing with maybe a half-dozen clowns with guns. Over there, dozens and dozens of groups of crazies…Still, it doesn’t excuse what happened, right?’
I nodded. My father toyed with his teacup. I glanced over at the line, saw that Miriam had moved ahead. My stomach grumbled, wanting breakfast, but something was going on here. I wanted to wait.
‘We were frustrated, cooped up like that. Day after day, under hot canvas, hardly anything to do. We had warriors there, Samuel, highly trained and eager warriors. You can’t keep them penned up for days. I asked, I pleaded, I begged the powers that were to either send them home or to give them missions. Anything to get out of that blasted tent city. But I was turned down, always turned down. Negotiations were at a delicate stage, they said. Local sensibilities can’t be offended, they said. So keep your boys confined to base until further notice. Jesus Christ on a crutch. Still… no excuses. They did an awful thing, and I did a worse thing, trying to cover it up.’
‘Why did you do it, then?’ I asked gently. We had never had this kind of conversation before, and I was desperate to take it as far as I could.
It was like my father couldn’t look at me, so he kept his gaze focused on his teacup. ‘By the time I got back home, I was exhausted, Samuel. I had some intestinal bug that was chewing me up from the inside out. Our intervention had been a failure, no matter what glowing stories your friends at the Star or Globe or Mail had written. Your mother had packed up and gone to Florida. I felt as though the UN, the all-bloody and all-powerful UN, had screwed us over pretty good. I had argued and fought for my boys, to give them good quarters, to keep them busy, and I had failed. I had failed pretty badly. So when the rumors started that a couple of them had done bad things back there, had tortured and killed a couple of young thieves… Well, no excuses, Samuel. No excuses. But what was I going to do? Go out of my way to help those who had screwed us? Give the UN the benefit of the doubt? Hell, no. My first reaction was to deny everything, to protect my boys. That’s what I did. And we all paid the price.’
I took a breath. ‘You did what you thought was right.’
A brief smile flickered across my father’s face. ‘Thanks -I think. Though the Chief of Staff and a jury and a bunch of newspapers disagreed with you. So here I am, a disgrace and cashiered out.’
‘So here you are,’ I said.
He finished off his tea with a satisfied slurp. ‘When can you get packed up?’
‘Excuse me?’
He put the cup down with a loud rattle. ‘Come along, Samuel. I said, when can you get packed up? I’m not done here yet. I’m here to take you back home.’
Our moment of bonding, it seemed, had just passed. ‘No.’
‘Samuel, be reasonable. You’ve been through a lot, right? Captured and beaten up and escaped, finally getting out free and safe. Shit, boy, you’ve done everything the blue helmets have asked of you and then some. Give yourself a break, get on back home while you can.’
‘What do you mean, while I can?’
My father looked around him for a second. Then he said, his voice lower: ‘Look. The Yanks have a real sense of pride and honor. How do you think they’re feeling, having the UN and foreign armies trooping through some of their territories? They only got here during a moment of weakness, after the Manhattan bombing, after the balloon strikes, after the uprisings and the killings of the refugees. A good chunk of the country that doesn’t have militias, that doesn’t have armed gangs terrorizing its people, well, they probably didn’t give a crap at the beginning. Anything to stop the killing. But now that most of the killing has stopped, that majority still sees Ukrainians and Germans and Hungarians trooping through the countryside. A lot of people are getting pissed, Samuel. Oh, there may be a new armistice soon, very soon, but just as certain as that is that one of these days the US Army or the Marines are going to take matters into their own hands and kick everybody out. And I know the Americans. When they kick someone out, it’s sure to be bloody. So come on home, Samuel. That’s where you belong.’
I shook my head. ‘No, I belong here.’
‘Samuel, you’re being unreasonable, you’re being—’
‘Father, it’s over. All right? I’m staying here, doing my job, because it’s important. As important to me as being in the army was for you. All right? Discussion over. I’m staying with the UN and staying in the States, if they want me. And if you want to have a discussion you’ll have it by yourself, because I’ll get up and leave. Right now.’