She saw Ruiz. He was gone. She saw the driver. Gone. She found Tex. He was thrown 10 yards clear. She dragged herself to him her medical training, taking over on autopilot. Stay with me, Tex. Stay with me. But Tex was looking at the sky, his eyes glassy. Tell my mom, he wheezed. Then the secondary explosion hit.
A follow-up charge meant to kill the rescuers. It blew Sarah back into a ditch. She lay there covered in the dust of the road and the blood of her friends, listening to the enemy smallarms fire cracking over her head. When the QRF quick reaction force finally arrived, they found her half buried, holding a pressure bandage on a man who had been dead for 20 minutes.
Present day, St. Jude’s Medical Center. Sarah opened her eyes. They were dry. She had run out of tears years ago. I spent 6 months in a burn unit in Germany, Sarah said quietly. Reconstructive surgery on my face and back. They fixed the outside. But inside I was done, Colonel. They offered me a medical discharge and I took it.
Why the name change? Why hide? Graves asked gently. Because they wanted to give me a medal. She spat the bitterness sudden and sharp. They wanted to pin a Navy cross on me for attempting to save the lives of my squad. I didn’t save them, Silus. I watched them die. I didn’t want to be a hero. I didn’t want the parades or the interviews or the thank you for your service.
I wanted to disappear. She looked at him. So, I legally changed my name. I moved to Seattle where nobody knew the story of Routt Michigan. I became a nurse because because fixing people is the only thing I know how to do. But I swore I’d never wear a uniform again. Graves looked at the woman. He understood.
He understood the guilt of the survivor. He had carried it for 40 years. So why me? Graves asked. You saw my name on the roster. You could have swapped shifts. You could have avoided me. Why did you walk into this room knowing I was the commander who sent that convoy out that day? Sarah stood up. She walked to the window and looked out at the rain.
Because I heard you were dying, she said her back to him. I heard Iron Head Graves was letting a leg infection kill him because he was too stubborn to trust the doctors and I thought maybe if I can save the old man, maybe it makes up for Tex just a little bit. Graves felt a lump in his throat. He looked at his leg, the red streaks of sepsis climbing toward his hip.
I was ready to check out Stitch, he admitted. I was tired. I figured I’d fought enough battles. Sarah turned around. The fire was back in her eyes. Well, that’s too damn bad, Colonel. Because you don’t get permission to die. Not on my watch. You ordered us to hold the line in Fallujah. You ordered us to never leave a marine behind.
You don’t get to leave yourself behind now. She walked back to the bed and pointed a finger at his chest. I am going to save this leg and I am going to save you. But you are going to listen to every word I say. You eat when I say eat. You take the damn morphine when I say take it. And you treat me like your coreman, not your maid.
Leave a Comment