“No. Why?”
“Two airliners just crashed into the twin towers of the World Trade Center!”
Dawn sat frozen in front of the television for the rest of the day. She watched the World Trade Center buildings crumble in a cloud of dust and debris over and over. She listened to minute-by-minute reports on how terrorists had hijacked two airliners out of Boston, another hijacked jetliner crashed into the Pentagon, and a fourth went down in a Pennsylvania field after passengers on board the aircraft called family members on cell phones and learned how the other airliners had been used. They fought back, or the fourth plane might have gone into the White House. No one knew yet how many had died. Fifty thousand people worked in and around the World Trade Center.
The front door opened. Dawn jumped up. “Jason!” She flew into his arms.
He held her close for a minute, rubbing his chin on the top of her head. “How long have you been watching the news?”
“All day. Jason, what does this mean for us?”
“We’re at war. That’s what it means.”
“Will you have to go?”
“We’ll have to find out who we’re fighting and where, first.”
Airports shut down. President George Bush flew into New York and stood at ground zero speaking to the rescue workers. He assured them the nation was on bended knee in prayer. When some cried out because they couldn’t hear, Bush said he could hear them, everyone could hear them, and those who had knocked down the buildings “will hear all of us soon!”
People chanted, “USA, USA…”
President Bush called out, “God bless America,” a hope all would cling to in the coming days.
Dawn spent her days reading newspaper stories about heroes: a man who stayed behind to help another man in a wheelchair-both died when the buildings crumbled; firefighters and police officers who worked tirelessly searching for survivors; cadaver dogs and their handlers searching the rubble. The Salvation Army responded to the tragedy. New Yorkers pulled together.
War loomed, but against what country?
Jason was deployed to New York to work with civil engineers. The mammoth job of clearing a city block began. Jason would be gone for months, maybe more if terrorists found other ways to blow up more Americans. Every newscaster speculated on what terrorists might do next-poison water systems, unleash deadly viruses, tote backpack-size atomic bombs.
People flooded into the churches for the first few weeks. Crowds dwindled after three months.
Jason came home to Fort Bragg on weekend leave, burning with anger against Osama bin Laden, who had denied responsibility for the attacks, though the U.S. government still considered him the prime suspect.
Exhausted, he slept twenty-four hours straight, leaving only half a day before he had to go back. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” Dawn said she’d come to him next time. Jason ordered her to stay home. He didn’t want her in New York. He wasn’t sure he wanted her at Fort Bragg. What better target for another attack than one of the biggest military bases in the world? He wanted her to go home. She said no. They argued. She cried after he left.
Jason returned to Fort Bragg after three months away. He and Dawn flew home for Christmas again. CCC was packed with new people. “You should have seen it after 9/11,” Mitch told them. Chris asked a dozen questions. Jason made it clear he didn’t want to talk about what he’d seen at ground zero. Granny worried about war and what part Jason would have to play in it. Dawn still prayed diplomacy would work. Mitch and Jason talked behind closed doors. Mom and Dawn had tea and didn’t talk at all.
2002
When Dawn and Jason returned to Fort Bragg, Jason bought a new laptop computer and a Rosetta Stone program on Arabic. “If I get sent anywhere, it’ll be the Middle East.”
Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the Army started deploying troops. America couldn’t ignore the murder of three thousand citizens. It was a miracle there hadn’t been tens of thousands. But three thousand was more than the number of lives lost at Pearl Harbor, and the country couldn’t let it go.
Dawn knew the waiting had come to an end when Jason came home and said he had orders to Fort Dix, New Jersey. Dawn packed and followed. She rented a two-bedroom, one-bathroom bungalow off base. She didn’t paint the walls. Every hour with Jason was too precious to waste.
2003
The first U.S. troops were deployed to the Persian Gulf region on January 1. On March 17, President Bush issued an ultimatum to Saddam Hussein, giving him forty-eight hours to leave the country or face war. On March 19, the deadline passed, and Operation Iraqi Freedom began. By April, they took Baghdad and toppled Saddam Hussein’s statue to Iraqi and American cheers.
The hunt for weapons of mass destruction intensified. Hussein had used chemical weapons on the Kurds. Had he buried bombs in the desert the same way he had buried airplanes? Had they been sold and scattered to neighboring countries? Or had it all been an empty boast by a mad dictator?
May rolled around, and Jason received orders for deployment to Iraq. Dawn wept. They made love the way they had when they were first married-hungry, with abandon. They said everything they wanted to say to one another, knowing they might never have another opportunity.
“It’s up to God.” He held her close. “There’s a time for peace, and there’s a time for war. Remember Nehemiah. He ordered the people to keep their weapons close at hand while they worked. The biggest job we’re going to face in Iraq is rebuilding the country, giving the Iraqi people the protection and resources they need to hold on to the freedom they’ve never had before. I’ll have my weapon strapped to me, Dawn. We’re trained to watch each other’s back.”
Jason wanted no public displays of affection when she saw him off. She had to be brave and tearless for his sake. He kissed her. “Write to me.” He spoke roughly, his hands gripping her head. He kissed her again. “I’ll e-mail you when I can.”
She took his hand in both of hers before he walked away. “May the Lord bless you and keep you, Jason. He goes ahead of you. He stands at your side. He dwells within you. He is your rear guard.” And though she saw tears in his hazel eyes, she smiled at him and said the rest. “This isn’t our home, Jason. Heaven is. And there, nothing can ever part us.”
Two months later, at the end of July, Dawn sent her sixtieth e-mail, knowing it might be days before Jason could read it.
God is good, Jason. He always keeps His promises. Our baby is due on Valentine’s Day. The doctor won’t know the baby’s gender for a few more months, but I told him God already promised us a little girl. She’s going to have blonde hair, and she’s going to run on the beach, collect rocks and seashells and bird feathers, and dance at the edge of the sea…
Jason e-mailed whenever he could.
Hey, Mama, I miss you so much I ache. I started a Bible study with three men in my unit. We’re rebuilding a hospital. We’re reading Nehemiah. Thought it appropriate. We do a lot of praying as we work.
… went into one of Saddam Hussein’s palaces. Marble floors, mosaics, pillars, fountains-the guy had it. Figured he was the next Nebuchadnezzar. Must have forgotten the end of the story-the king on his hands and knees eating grass like an animal. God said pride comes before a fall.
I wish I could see you getting as round as a pumpkin, big as a house, weighing in at 185 with my baby inside you…
Dawn wrote letters every day. She wanted Jason to have something at mail call, not just on his computer.
Hello, my love.
I went for my checkup this morning and heard our daughter’s heartbeat. I may not weigh 185 pounds yet, but everything is fine. I walk two miles every evening (yes, dear, before it gets dark). Since everyone works, this is the best time to meet people.