For Love or Country

by Jesse Jordan

  Karli hugs me back. “Hell, I know that. Can I ask you for something, then?”

  “What's that?”

  Karli lets go and points toward the picture on my bookshelf. “Think I can take that with me? I know we'll be keeping in touch, but I'd like to remember you as you are right now, and I'll be damned if I don't have a single picture of you these past four years. I'm shit with a camera it seems.”

  I pull it down and hand it to her, smiling. “Here. And I'll make sure this week that we get at least another hundred photos of us together doing stupid things before graduation, deal?”

  “Deal. Now, let's help you get some more of your shit packed and sorted. Then you can help me with my gigantic mess.”

  The night is warm, but the stars are clear, and I can't really take any more sitting around. Karli is busy doing some last minute packing, we're gonna take a little alone time to reflect. We've got tomorrow morning, and she already invited me out to dinner with her family tomorrow night after graduation. It'll be nice to get to know the rest of the Franklins.

  So instead of sitting in my room, my penthouse, my cell, whatever you want to call it, I decided to walk some. The moon is beautiful tonight, nearly full, and there's a lot of white light shining down as I cross the bridge to the roof of Thayer Hall. I spent more time in this building than just about any other on post, and it just feels right to look over the Hudson from here instead of the viewing platforms on top of the library.

  The wind ruffles my hair, I'm letting it hang right now. What are they going to do, write me up for being messy in uniform? I go to the edge of the parking area, looking down. The Hudson slips by far below, a quiet band of reflected moonlight and black against the gray of the shoreline. It's beautiful, in a sort of somber, sad way.

  “I do hope you're not thinking of jumping. It would be a waste to get through all four years, only to jump the night before you reach the finish line.”

  I turn my head, and see a woman leaning against the retaining wall about thirty feet away. I can't see much about her in the moonlight, the shadows of the wall hide a lot, but from her voice I'd say she's a little older than me, but not too much. “Do I know you?”

  The woman shakes her head and steps forward, fully into the moonlight. “No, not yet. Ashley Carlyle, pleased to meet you.”

  “Christina Logan. And no, I'm not planning on jumping. How'd you know I'm a Firstie?”

  Ashley points, and I look down. My class ring. I normally don't wear it, but for some reason it made sense tonight. I nod, and look up, paying better attention to her. She's a little shorter than me, with either dark red or brown hair, the moonlight is playing tricks with color. She's got a trim body, she's definitely some sort of athlete, but she's no stick figure. I see a wedding band on her finger, her husband has to love the curves this woman sports.

  “Okay, I got that,” I acknowledge, taking my ring off and putting it in my pocket. Honestly, I have to restrain myself from throwing it into the Hudson. After all, this class doesn't want me, and I don't feel like I belong to it. “Don't even know why I'm wearing it.”

  “Sometimes we need an object to help us focus our thoughts. So Christina, what did bring you up here to the roof of Thayer, the night before you graduate?” Ashley asks, sticking her hands in her pockets. She looks sadly down on the rocks below, and I wonder if perhaps her comment about me possibly jumping has extra meaning for her. “If you don't mind sharing your thoughts.”

  “Just... reflecting, I guess. Tomorrow caps the end of four years that in a lot of ways I want back. I'm leaving this Academy, but I don't know where I'm going. I don't have an assignment, I've spent most of the last year silenced by the entire Corps, and to top it all off, the man I love just happens to be in either Leavenworth or maybe down in Guantanamo Bay for being a spy. I'm the most hated person in the Corps,” I tell her, turning my back on the Hudson and looking back at the Cadet areas. From here, I can see the front of the library, part of Washington Hall, and MacArthur Barracks. I know every inch, every rock it seems, but it’s not home for me. “To be perfectly honest, I feel a little lost.”

  “I see,” Ashley comments, stepping closer and leaning against the wall next to me. This close, I can see that her hair is red, but probably a dark red, like auburn or something, and she's definitely within a few years of me, maybe twenty five or twenty six? Either way, there's something in her face, in the way she's looking at me, that tells me that she's pretty clued in as to what I'm going through. Who knows, maybe she's FBI, they've been bugging the hell out of me for quite a while.

  “It just sucks, you know?” I sigh, letting it all loose on this stranger who I've never met before in my life and probably will never see again. Maybe that's why I can just be totally honest with her. “I've never done anything but my best, busted my butt. I thought that hard work would be rewarded. I didn't know what the Corps is really like.”

  “And what is it like?” Ashley asks.

  “A lot like high school,” I reply. “Not too surprising, I guess. Take a bunch of kids, most of them straight out of high school, and isolate them like we are here. You're not going to get a lot of maturity at times.”

  “So why did you come here, Christina? The free education? Don't tell me, the great free clothing?” Ashley jokes, and I shake my head, smiling. “Then why?”

  “Because I wanted to make a difference. I thought that here, I could take the first step towards making something of myself. I didn't want to just be the daughter of an emotionally abusive, bitter man who blames the world for his problems. I wanted to make the world a better place. I wanted... hell, my best friend jokes with me about it, but I believe those words they've got inscribed by MacArthur's statue. I believe in the dream that is West Point. I believe that the Corps can be a force for good in this country and in this world. I wanted to live that dream, to live Duty, Honor, and Country,” I tell Ashley, then half laugh, half sneer. “God, no wonder most of the Corps hated me even before Ivan. I sound like a cheerleader.”

  “Perhaps....” Ashley says, then points towards the barracks, where the big statue of Washington sits, illuminated by spots in the night. “You still believe in that dream, in this place? Do you still want to make the world a better place?”

  I nod, then shake my head. “I do, and I don't, it's really hard to pin that down. I want to make the world a better place, but not for some motto. Not for some flag, or for some semi-mystical Long Gray Line. Sure, those things mean something, but... I want to make the world better so that nobody has to go through what I've been through. Nobody should ever have to lose someone they love like I love Ivan just because his government forced him to do the things he did.”

  “You still love him?” Ashley asks, and I nod immediately. “I figured. Your voice changes every time you say his name. If it helps, I understand.”

  “I noticed your wedding ring, I figured. You two are still together?” I ask, and Ashley nods. “That's nice.”

  “It is, it's heaven on earth. But there was a time, before we got married, where I wasn't sure if I'd ever see him again. Who knows, maybe you two can see each other again?”

  I shake my head, wiping at my face before the tears can't be disguised as allergies or sweat. “It's been months, either they're not letting him write to me, or he doesn't know I'm writing, or….” I shake my head. “It hurts. And I know that it would take a miracle in order for us to be together again. I don't seem to be the sort of woman who gets miracles.”

  Ashley shrugs, and steps away from the wall. “You never know. Either way, I've taken enough of your time, I'll let you say goodbye to the Academy however you want. If you want my opinion though, the parade stands are a great place to look over the Corps too. Good luck, and try to enjoy tomorrow.”

  Ashley doesn't wait for me to answer and walks away, soon disappearing into the darkness. I consider her words, and reach into my pocket, feeling my class ring. I'm still tempted to chuck it into the Hudson, but instead I slip it on. Because I did
n't bullshit her, I do love the idea of the Academy. Like Karli said, I love the dream.

  It's hard, turning in my saber and sash. Most of the uniforms I'm not going to miss. I'm only keeping my full dress top as a memento, the buttons and tails just somehow iconic.

  But my sash and my saber, those mean something to me. Maybe it's because West Point is one of the few units in the Army left that still has them. They're a connection to the way things are supposed to be, where officers are meant to hold the line, to show no wounds and to lead the charge. So yeah, turning them in sucks.

  The guy in the basement of Washington Hall takes them and gives them a quick once over. “Okay, sign the book, and you're good to go. Thanks.”

  I sign next to my name, taking the property receipt that says I've cleared Washington Basement, and I'm done in the Corps. It's all over. I don't know where I'm headed, so I didn't ship anything, but I don't really care. I know I'm getting paid at least, and I gave the Army a phone number if they want to get a hold of me. Until then, well... who knows, maybe Karli wouldn't mind having a friend to hang out with for a couple of months before she has to report to Huachucah.

  I head back to Pershing, ready to do my final sign out of I-1. I just have to show Captain Douglas my property receipt and then sign the book to go on graduation leave. He's in his office when I knock, and he looks up. “All cleared?”

  “Cleared away, sir,” I reply, handing him my property receipt. Captain Douglas makes a check mark on his clipboard, and then sets his pen down. “So where do I sign out?”

  “Just a moment, this came for you while you were finishing clearing out your room and turning in the sash and saber,” he says, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out an envelope. “Your orders, Lieutenant.”

  Using the letter opener on his desk, I take out the sheet of paper and read them, curious. “The 52nd Regional Support Command Annex? What the hell is that?”

  “A Reserve unit in Virginia. I don't know, I've never heard of the unit until today,” Captain Douglas says. “Look at it this way, Christina. It's a job. You said you wanted an assignment, and you've got one. Now, as for you signing out on leave... here. Oh, and I had a request from the Commandant himself, he said before you leave post to stop by his house. Not an order, just a request. Still, if I were you I'd do it.”

  I nod, and sign my leave forms. “I'll go do that now, sir. Thank you.”

  Captain Douglas offers his hand, and I'm too polite to not shake. “Good luck, Lieutenant.”

  Outside, I see Karli, who's trying to fit the last little bit of her stuff into the back of her SUV that she bought for the trip to Arizona. Her parents are helping her, but when she sees me she stops and waves. “Hey Chris, you ready to bounce?”

  “Not yet,” I reply, giving her a hug. “The Comm wants me to stop by his house, if you can dig that. So, gimme a few?”

  “Oh, don't worry about that,” Karli's father says. He's pink in the face, and knowing Karli she's gotten him to lug things down to her car for the past hour at least. “We'll be here.”

  I laugh and jog off, wanting to hurry this up. Maybe I can help Karli clear out and we can go enjoy our dinner together a bit early. Approaching the Comm’s house, I walk up the steps, knocking respectfully on the door. Mrs. Nelson opens up. “Oh, Christina, it's so lovely to see you. Issac said you might stop by. First off, congratulations, you made it.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Nelson. Uh, the Comm, is he around? I was told he wanted to see me.”

  “Of course, come in,” Mrs. Nelson says, letting me in. “He's in his study, go right on in. You're not a cadet any more, you don't need an escort. But before you leave, stop by the kitchen, you and I can share a last slice of lemon cake before you go off on your adventures.”

  I smile, Mrs. Nelson does make kick-ass cake, and nod. “Okay, but a quick one, I promised a friend I'd help her finish her packing. Mrs. Nelson, before I see the General though, let me just say thank you. You gave me a lot of comfort over the past few months, and I'll miss the chances we had to talk. And I'll miss your cocoa, too.”

  Mrs. Nelson smiles, her eyes kind. “Well, you can do me a favor by giving me your email address then before you leave. I'll wait in the kitchen.”

  I go to the Comm's study and knock, opening the door when I hear the now familiar voice call out. “Sir?”

  “Relax, Christina. I'm somewhat off duty right now, and you are for sure,” General Nelson says. “I wanted to give you a graduation gift.”

  “Thanks, sir. I... I don't know what to say,” I reply, coming in and sitting down. It's hard to not be on protocol though, he's still in his uniform, or at least his shirt and trousers, the coat hanging on the rack behind him. “You really didn't need to.”

  “Actually, I felt it my duty to do so,” the Comm says. “You know Christina, I never thought I'd actually get to know any one particular cadet the way that I've gotten to know you since you arrived with Ivan on my porch about eight months ago. And I must say I've been pleasantly surprised. You obviously know that I read all your files the day after this whole thing started. You're much more than you appear to be on paper.”

  “Thanks, sir. And you... you helped me keep a little bit of faith in the Corps, even when they were silencing me.”

  The Comm shakes his head sadly, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah... I wish I could have been more direct in stopping that. I decided not to intervene or to have Colonel Renquist intervene simply because I felt like the Corps was going to do something one way or another. I thought the silencing was the least painful of the options, although I know you went through hell in a way. Thankfully you had a good friend in Karli Franklin. Anyway, I did get you a present. Here.”

  The Comm reaches into a drawer on his desk and takes out a wooden box, sliding it across the desk to me. I open it, and I'm shocked at what's inside, a Beretta 9mm pistol. “Sir... it's nice, but I don't know what to say. I'm not much into guns beyond duty purposes, though.”

  General Nelson has a sad look on his face as he nods in understanding. “I know. To be honest, I'm not either. But that's not just for decoration, Christina. I promised Ivan, as he sat in that very chair that you're sitting in now, that I'd protect you as best I could. That’s why you were kept on post over Christmas, that’s why you were given that solo room in Pershing. It’s also why you were given Central Guard Room duty on the day of Army-Navy, so you didn't have to leave post with the rest of the Corps for the game. You went through hell, and I'll admit some of it was my doing. I just didn't tell you why. But now, I can't protect you any more, Christina. I called a few friends, but that's all I can do for your career. So I'm now at the point of doing the last bit I can. Keep it, and keep it on you. In that box is a letter signed by the Chief of Staff of the Army, you've got authorization to carry that with you at all times, nationwide. Do it, and learn how to use it. It's different than using a rifle. Remember, they haven't tried anything, but that doesn't mean they won't.”

  The somber reminder weighs heavily on me as I close the teak box and latch the lid. “I won't forget, sir.”

  “Good. Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll join you and my wife for a slice of lemon cake that I overheard. I promise it won't take too long, you'll still be able to help Karli finish her packing. You know Christina, I have two sons, both good boys. One went in the Air Force, the other went to law school. They're married, and I've got one grandson. But I've never had a daughter. Thank you for giving me a little insight into that. I hope you do stay in touch.”

  “I'll do my best, sir. Thank you.”

  Chapter 16

  Ivan

  I lower myself on a three second count, hold the position, and then push up as hard as I can, the droplet of sweat that has been bugging me since the tenth repetition of this set falling off to stain the concrete below me. Eighteen.

  I hear footsteps outside my cell, but I ignore them, completing the nineteenth and then the twentieth repetitions at the same pace before hopping my legs up to
my chest and standing the rest of the way up. One of the guards, Brown, is standing outside the grated door. “What do you want?”

  “Delivery for you,” Brown says, opening the delivery slot and passing me a plain paper package. “Seems you've got yourself some sort of sponsor on the outside, or maybe the Army's being nice. You could use a little color in there, but at least it makes cell searches easy.”

  I look around my bare cell, totally my choice, and shrug. “Your country has been fair to me from the beginning. In Russia I would have been tortured and shot already.”

  Brown, who is nice for a prison guard, as long as you follow his commands, steps closer to the window that's been built in my door, looking for himself around my cell. “You know Vasushenko, you don't have to leave the walls of your cell bare. You are allowed some decoration within barracks regulations. You're at Leavenworth, man. Hell, even the boys they keep down at Gitmo are allowed some stuff.”

  “I may never leave this barracks, Sergeant Brown,” I reply, turning and setting my package down on the poured concrete shelf that serves as my table, desk, and only piece of furniture outside the poured concrete bed shelf that with a thin mattress on top. I've slept on worse. “I may never even leave this cell, I do not know. But regardless of if I die in here an old man, this isn't my home. I will not treat it as such.”

  Brown shrugs, I’m sure he's heard prisoners tell him all sorts of things in his time working here, and waits for me to unwrap the package, taking out the drawing pad and three pack of pencils along with an artist's eraser before handing him back the wrapper. “Another drawing pad. What is that, your fourth?”

  “Third,” I answer, showing him the other two. “I requested a writing tablet, but when I was told I am not allowed to send letters, I have not used it much.”

  “Mind if I take a look?” Brown says. “One of the guys who did your last cell inspection said you're pretty good.”