Indivisible

by Travis Thrasher

  In one of the pots, the sauce for the meatballs began bubbling and splattering, making Heather duck for cover as she reached for the knob to turn down the heat. Red sauce speckled the stovetop and the wall behind it. In the other room, she could hear Elie and Sam screaming and laughing.

  “You there?” Darren asked.

  “Yeah, sorry, just making a mess in the kitchen. And the kids are in a mood.”

  Another pause, then Darren said, “Just before calling—I got word we lost three more soldiers today.”

  What is this? Some sort of who’s-having-the-worst-day competition?

  As Meribeth began to fuss, wanting to come out of her seat, something fell in the living room. Heather couldn’t help thinking of what needed to happen next after the casualties.

  “Means Tonya and I have three more widows to convince to go on living,” she said.

  “Mom! Sam’s using your camera!” Elie called.

  The last thing she needed was a broken camera. “Sam, put it down!”

  Now Meribeth wasn’t just fussing; she was full-on crying, ready to be set free.

  “I’m taking pictures for Daddy!” Sam yelled.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Darren said on the other line. “I think you heard me wrong.”

  “I couldn’t hear,” she said. “I did what wrong?”

  As she grabbed a rag to wipe the mushy sauce off Meribeth’s face and hair, she heard Sam and Elie getting even louder in the other room.

  Every time I need to talk on this phone, they do this.

  “Kids, quiet! I can’t hear your dad!” She sighed as she unfastened Meribeth and then let her sit on the floor playing with a spatula. “Did the Christmas stockings arrive?”

  She had developed a to-do list when it came to Darren. She couldn’t help it—this was their life—so she wanted to make sure she could at least cross that one off the list.

  “Oh yeah. They’re amazing. I can’t wait till Christmas. They’re gonna love them. Thank you so much.”

  She needed to stir the sauce, but she didn’t know where the . . . Heather grabbed the spatula from Meribeth and quickly dipped it into the pot.

  “It was actually great,” she said. “We had over a hundred people helping at different times. I still can’t believe you won’t be here for Christmas. My parents are coming.”

  Now the other pot of meatballs began gurgling over, so she turned the switch, accidentally lighting another burner. She turned all of them off.

  “Mom!” Elie screamed in the other room. “Sam’s taking pictures of Meribeth’s boogies.”

  She spun around and her side caught the spoon on the counter, sending it to the floor and causing another explosion of red sauce. The smell of something burning drifted from the oven, and she opened it to see the pieces of garlic bread resembling blackened chicken. As she looked for the oven mitt she had just put down, the fire alarm began to join in the cacophony. Heather felt like screaming.

  “Honey, I’m sorry . . . ,” she said as she pulled out the charred pieces of bread.

  “It’s okay,” Darren said, his disappointment obvious in his tone. “I get it. Bad timing. Love you too. Bye.”

  She barely got in her goodbye before the line cut off.

  Heather didn’t have time to feel bad about the call. At least at that moment, as Darren hung up the phone, he wasn’t dealing with chaos there at the base like she was right this instant. Yes, they were on two very different battlefields, but on hers, the troops didn’t follow orders very well, nor did they understand anything about rank or order.

  With the pan of burnt bread dumped into the sink, the alarm above her still going off, and the kids in the living room still screaming, Heather stood there trying to figure out which problem to fix first. So naturally, the doorbell rang.

  Tonya and the girls were early. Of course they were early. But this was good news.

  The reinforcements are here.

  4

  “So, we’ll be transporting former Sunni insurgents fighting with us now to stop Al-Qaeda, and we’re not the only ones who know,” Lt. Col. Jacobsen said to the officers around the meeting table. He pointed to a map. “At Al Sakhar Province, here, Bravo will neutralize opposition out front for Alpha running escort to get these civilian forces in for training at PB Hawkes, here. Questions?”

  As the rest of the men all shook their heads, Darren raised his hand slightly toward the commander. “Sir . . . before we, uh . . . can I?” He was surprised at how nervous his voice sounded.

  “Knock it out of the park, son,” Jacobsen told him.

  All of the men closed their eyes as Darren began to pray. Every day, the prayers seemed to grow more intense, with the men understanding their significance.

  Moments later, with a convoy of Humvees and Strykers rumbling as they waited to head out, Darren sought out Lance. Finding the soldier standing next to his designated vehicle, he pulled out some jerky from one of his pockets and tossed it to him.

  “Fuel for the road,” Darren said as Lance swiftly caught it.

  “Hey, thanks . . . And thanks for what you’re doing here. It’s helpful. To me, anyway.”

  “Of course.”

  Lance pulled out a Bible from his vest and proudly waved it. “Been takin’ this on all our trips out of Falcon. It’s a big book, and I don’t understand some of it.”

  “I can help you out with that,” Darren said.

  “Bradley, one!” Sergeant Carter shouted as he passed them by. “Turner, two with me!”

  Before following Carter, Darren pulled out one more thing.

  “Hey, Lance. Hang on to this, will ya?” He offered his Armor of God coin to the young man.

  Lance looked at Darren and shook his head. “Man, you’re a closer.”

  “It’s a reminder. That you don’t have to be afraid. That God has your back.”

  “All right, we’re moving out,” Carter shouted as he climbed into the MRAP.

  Lance slapped Darren’s palm, taking the coin in his hand and giving him a wink. “Told you before. I just like free stuff.”

  Darren chuckled as Sergeant Carter barked at them one more time to go.

  Just another day and another trip down a winding desert road and another chance for any of them to die.

  The ritual of risking their lives had, strangely, become routine. Yet for Darren and many of the other men, so had relying on the Lord.

  5

  November 20, 2007

  Happy Birthday, Heather!! On November 22 it’s my wife’s twenty-fifth birthday. Just kidding, she’s thirtysomething. I love you and miss you, baby!

  And Happy Thanksgiving to everyone else. I can’t believe the holidays are already here. Wow. Where did time go? We’re gearing up for a whirlwind tour of Thanksgiving meals and services here at the main base and out at the PBs. We have a total of five meals/services in two days. Thanksgiving in the military is a big deal. It’s a time when special guests come, high-ranking officers show up to serve meals, and everyone else gets nervous about the special guests and high-ranking officers showing up. Somewhat of a photo op, but I understand their desire. They want the troops to be appreciated, and they show that with a good meal and important people serving the food. For me, I will be there to pray for the meal, then have a service afterward for anyone wanting to attend.

  Thanks to all the groups and individuals who have sent care packages and Christmas stockings recently. In the past two weeks, I’ve had no fewer than seventy-five boxes come in for me and our great troops. That has been no small job, but it’s worth it. You all have equipped me to be a huge blessing to these guys. I thank you for that. I would list all the contributors, but that would take a lot of space. I hope my sincere thanks will suffice.

  Once again, Happy Thanksgiving! “I will give you thanks, for you answered me; / you have become my salvation” (Ps. 118:21).

  Darren

  THE EIGHTH MONTH

  1

  December 2, 2007

>   Guess what? It rained last night! With thunder and lightning. Our first rain. It was so stormy early this morning, I thought we were getting mortared. I haven’t heard those sounds in eight months. It was weird. It’s also very chilly at night now. It’s been in the midforties lately, and is supposed to dip into the upper thirties soon. Related to that, our three patrol bases finally got hot water. It’s a pretty basic setup: big containers of water with pipes going into a couple of upright hot water heaters attached to a small water pump that pushes the water into “shower sheds.” That has greatly increased morale at the PBs! Amazing what a hot shower can accomplish. Since it has gotten cooler, soldiers have been heating water bottles next to generators to get them warm and taking water bottle showers. Now with the hot showers, it’s like home . . . well, almost.

  Good news story: a woman who was injured in the war back in 2005 is about to get long-awaited help. Basically, her colon was removed due to a gunshot wound, and she’s been using a bag on her side. She is now lined up to go to the big US hospital in Baghdad and have surgery by our doctors to correct this! Many of our soldiers met her and her family, and they are so happy and ready to be normal again. That will happen soon. Also, tomorrow our medics are having another MEDOP (a medical operation) where they will go set up a small “office” in the streets of our area and help anyone who walks up. Relationship building and helping the locals.

  We continue to see improvements in our area. Six months ago, no one would have dared do this. Now it’s a reality. And our Concerned Citizens (CC) also continue to help provide security. In one of my new photos, you will see a crazy picture! One of the CCs pointed out to our guys an IED that he knew was planted recently in a dirt road. We watched it in the TOC using a high-tech camera that can zoom out pretty far. I couldn’t believe he actually went and dug it up, knowing it could blow at any moment. But it didn’t. One more bomb off the battlefield that could possibly have hit us. They regularly turn in, or point out, all sorts of weapons that we confiscate and remove from the fight. The bad guys have weapons caches all around, but they are shrinking.

  I’m excited that my favorite time of year is near. Christmas, true Christmas. The Invasion of God! “O Holy Night . . . the night of our dear Savior’s birth . . . He appeared and the soul felt its worth (my favorite line) . . . FAALLLL on your knees! O hear the angel voices . . . O night divine, O night when Christ was born!”

  God knows the pain of deployments. He came here, from heaven. Now that’s a deployment! He knows. May you be filled with awe as you ponder the Invasion of God!

  Darren

  2

  Darren no longer thought about the weight of all his gear and the steady motion of the MRAP as they sped down the desert road to Al Sakhar Province. Now all he kept thinking about was being surprised by an explosion, hearing the wailing sound before feeling the impact on their vehicle. His mouth felt dry and his breaths felt heavy.

  Once again their mission was to provide an armed escort for the civilian forces that were training at their patrol base. The empty desert land outside no longer looked ominous to him, and he was as familiar with riding in this armored vehicle as he was with driving his own kids to the store. The scary part consisted of wondering what kind of carnage could suddenly start raining down on them at any given moment.

  Sergeant Whitsett’s voice crackled over the radio as he steered the Humvee in front of them, with Diego riding shotgun and Lance standing up through the hole and manning the .50-cal gun.

  “Roger that, Atlas 7–2,” Sergeant Carter called out.

  Once again, he drove them while Michael sat next to him and Shonda and Darren sat in the back. The MRAP hit a giant pothole, sending Darren and Shonda lurching forward.

  “Man, Stevie Wonder drives better than you, Carter,” Michael joked.

  “Turner, doesn’t the Good Book say ‘Be kind to your neighbor’?” the sergeant shouted back at Darren. “I’m sittin’ next to you, Major. That makes me your neighbor.”

  Darren gave a halfhearted laugh as he balled his hand into a fist to stop it from shaking. He was trying to do everything possible to not let any of them know how nervous he felt.

  “Oh, man! Tell me I didn’t do it.”

  In the passenger seat, Michael began searching his pockets, almost frantic. Then he looked over to Carter.

  “Dude, I forgot my ChapStick.” Michael slapped his palm on the windshield in front of him. “I gotta bum yours, Stevie.”

  Sergeant Carter shook his head. “Oh, no. Nobody bums ChapStick!”

  “Aw, come on, man. You just said be kind to your neighbor. I’ll pay for it, but my lips are cracking bad.”

  The younger sergeant smiled, seeing a chance to give Michael a hard time.

  “How about I make you a deal?” he said. “If we pass a Walmart, I’ll stop. Okay?”

  Darren and Shonda looked at each other and laughed. Any sort of amusement was welcomed out here. Darren looked back down at his hands and made sure they were still clenched and out of Shonda’s view. The trip would be over soon enough.

  3

  One minute the kids were playing with goats at a petting zoo, the next minute they were climbing up the steps of an inflatable slide and whipping down it. Sam and Elie loved to play with Mia and Nia, and it seemed the twins enjoyed playing with them, too, despite the age difference. Heather was happy to see this, knowing how close the two families were becoming. She wondered if Darren and Michael were developing any sort of relationship as well. She loved picturing the future, seeing the two families barbecuing on a hot summer day, spending the evening laughing while the sun drifted far away into the west.

  The farm was alive with families this late morning, mostly mothers with their children. Every year the army held a Thanksgiving harvest festival, where there were carnival rides and food vendors and even a warrior maze kids could go through. As the foursome of children ran from one attraction to the next, Heather, Tonya, and Amanda sat in the grass nearby, keeping Alexis and Meribeth entertained. Soon Mia ran back to them.

  “Can we take Sam and Elie through the maze, Mom?”

  Heather glanced over to the entrance of the maze, then gave Tonya a nod.

  “Okay,” Tonya said. “We’ll wait at the entrance. By the funnel cake booth!”

  Heather laughed. “God help us. Stay together, please!”

  Sam and Elie followed the twins into the maze as Heather turned back to Meribeth. She was learning that there was a big difference between two children with both parents present as a team and three active children with only one parent. She didn’t have the time or energy to be monitoring every kid every moment. That was another reason she was so happy that Nia and Mia enjoyed playing with the children. They served as quasi-babysitters.

  “We have got to get us some of that funnel cake,” Tonya said to the other women.

  It didn’t sound too appetizing to Amanda, who made a face and held her pregnant belly.

  “We haven’t even had lunch yet,” Heather said.

  Tonya looked through her purse to get her wallet. “There is nothing wrong with having funnel cakes for lunch. Or having your dessert first. Remember—this is a Thanksgiving festival!”

  4

  As the convoy arrived at the village of Al Sakhar Province just on the outskirts of Baghdad, the drivers slowed their vehicles. While maneuvering through the half-blasted stone walls and houses, they passed a group of men in long-sleeved robes, with scarves called kaffiyehs on their heads. The men gave them suspicious looks while several women wearing long black cloaks and scarves covering their heads and faces ran away from the Americans.

  “So how much we payin’ these goat herders to fight with us anyway?” Sergeant Carter asked Michael.

  “I think they’re just fightin’ for what’s theirs. Right, Sergeant?”

  “Or what’s left of it.”

  Carter was young, brash, and cocky, a perfect combo for his ranking. The enthusiasm and energy from young men like him filled Darren
with a similar sort of fuel, one that he desperately needed to combat the wear and tear this place was taking on his soul.

  “Looks like our objective, gents,” Sergeant Whitsett said on the radio. “Eleven o’clock. I got one male. Repeat, one male.”

  Every individual they passed, whether man, woman, or child, posed a potential threat. That was why they were always on alert and ready for anything once they entered a village like this one.

  An Iraqi man waved to them alongside a city street.

  “That’s our escort,” Michael radioed back.

  Every parked car and every barren window carried potential danger. The soldiers scanned their surroundings, the walls and the buildings and the balls the children were playing with. Nothing could be taken for granted in this place.

  “We’re looking for a twelve-pax bus,” Michael continued to say on the radio. “Bradley, whatcha see up top?”

  Lance’s voice came in loud and clear over the radio. “Lookin’ good. Roofs are all clear. Wait . . .”

  Just like that, they began to slow as Lance continued. “Ho! I got two on a roof at one o’clock! One’s on a cell! One o’clock!”

  Slow and steady. That’s how Darren breathed as the convoy slowly weaved through the narrow streets following their escort. They all knew the obvious. They were sitting ducks in this current position. Above in the Humvee, Lance swiveled the .50-caliber gun at the two men above their group of vehicles.

  “Come on!” Lance called out on the radio. “Faster! Let’s go!”

  Sergeant Whitsett’s voice cut in. “No sign of a twelve-pax, gentlemen. I think we got a problem.”

  Michael looked out the side of his window and then forward once again. “Stay alert. Bradley—update?”

  “Bogeys are gone. And I see the bus.”

  Sitting between two war-torn buildings, the rusted-out squat bus blocked their way. Broken glass and a missing door didn’t exactly give any of them confidence.

  “Roger that,” Whitsett said. “Looks empty from here.”