by Lea Hart
Running his finger over her soft skin and feeling the connection they’d made with one another, he shrugged. “Noted and filed.”
Turning her face into his caress, the corner of her mouth lifted. “And dismissed.”
“For now.”
The sound of boots crunching made him release his hold and step back. Even though he was a civilian and on a private assignment, he didn’t want to make a spectacle of himself and Audrey by behaving inappropriately. “Let’s head to the mess hall, grab some coffee, and get the latest scuttlebutt on conditions in the area.”
Moving the strap of her backpack higher on her shoulder, she then gave him a salute. “Yes, sir.”
“I like when you follow orders.” He put his hand on the small of her back and they walked toward the other end of the small compound.
“I noticed.”
Looking down, he let out a chuckle and realized most of the things he’d initially thought about Audrey had been fairly inaccurate. The perfectly poised and professional woman he’d gotten to know back in the States was no match for the one walking at his side. The fire in her eyes and the excitement of being close to realizing a dream made her a hundred times more beautiful and, considering she was off the charts gorgeous before that was saying something.
Add to that her intelligence and sarcasm and he was just about done for.
Which wasn’t what he expected to happen in Northern Syria on a Saturday in October. What he’d do eventually with the crazy feelings was anyone’s guess.
***
Carrick sat behind the wheel of their SUV and navigated his way through the narrow streets of Tell Abyad and noticed it looked like a lot of other small towns he’d been through in the last ten years. The monochromatic sand-colored concrete buildings matched the color of the road and the land that spread beyond the town limits.
There were several people out on the streets taking care of everyday life and he wondered how the inhabitants had managed to rebuild their lives after ISIS had been driven from the area. Many of the buildings appeared to have been repaired after the 2015 battle, and he guessed it was like any other…and they had simply gotten on with the business of living.
Checking the rearview mirror, he saw Audrey and Asli chatting as they looked at something on a phone and hoped they’d have a peaceful day. As they left the town and got on the M4 highway, he noticed the grasslands surrendering to the advancing desert as the signs of the conflict appeared. There were destroyed, deserted villages along the road and enormous earth berms and ditches that were probably created to stop ISIS’s souped-up ‘bomber cars,’ which always reminded him of something from Mad Max. They were basically old cars that were laden with explosives and encased within welded metal sheets. Rockets bounced off them harmlessly and they could reach fifty mph and deliver the same fury as a five-hundred-pound bomb from a coalition jet.
He’d seen them often when he’d been down range and they were no joke. The destruction they could inflict was enormous and he was relieved that it wasn’t something he had to see on a regular basis anymore.
Fortunately, today probably wouldn’t change that because the base commander had informed them earlier that, for the most part, things had been quiet for the last several days. The recent victory in Raqqa was going to hopefully allow the area to have some peace as the rebuilding process began.
Glancing over at Andrew, he saw that his head was on a swivel despite the reports of quiet and Carrick was glad to be working him as they traveled through the country. “Looks like we’ve got twenty minutes to the base.”
“I had the same estimation,” Andrew replied as he glanced back at the women. “Are they expecting us?”
Audrey nodded and handed the phone back to Asli. “I sent them a message yesterday when we crossed the border, and Zana, the base commander, said we were welcome to come.”
“How did you hear about these women and their stories?” Andrew asked as he returned his attention to the road.
“When I was in Greece a year ago working with refugees, I kept hearing about these women warriors in Syria. As people spoke of their experiences during the civil war, they always seemed to mention the Kurdish women who’d taken up the fight alongside the men. The Kurds have a tradition of Amazon warriors in their history, despite their patriarchal society, and the YPJ is a manifestation of that in the twenty-first century.”
“The stories of the female fighters are told all across Kurdish culture, no matter where you live,” Asli added. “I remember my aunties telling colorful tales about the legendary women warriors of Asia Minor. According to them, a Roman soldier named Marcellinus described the women in his writings, and our culture has always acknowledged the stories. They were probably not so much a tribe exclusively of women, but more part of a community that accepted women and men as equals. It’s believed that the women were part of a blended fighting unit, much like the YPG and YPJ. I think there’s fact blended with fiction when it comes to the Amazons, but it’s a tradition that’s worth keeping alive.”
“I read a lot of research papers and I saw enough history recorded about women warriors to know there’s plenty of facts to support the idea,” Audrey responded.
“Even if the women don’t have the opportunity to know about their ancestors, they’re all aware of Margaret George Malik. She was an Assyrian guerilla fighter who joined the Kurdish Peshmerga forces in their fight against the Iraqi government in the sixties,” Asli said as she looked at Audrey. “She was in her twenties when she joined and quickly asserted herself among her male comrades and was given a leading position in important battles. She’s the modern-day equivalent to the Amazons of our past and I imagine she’s an inspiration for a lot of women today.”
“I think you’re right. When I started reading and researching the group, I discovered that a common theme cropped up whenever a woman described her reason for joining the movement. It wasn’t just the fight with the Islamic state that brought the women to the frontlines, but an opportunity to become more than a farmer’s wife. Many Kurdish girls have been lured into battle by the powerful ideology that promises not only a free Kurdistan but also gender equality and an end to the oppression of women.”
“With so few choices available, it makes sense that becoming a warrior is so appealing,” Asli added.
“Wanting to make a difference has nothing to do with gender and everything to do with a person’s heart,” Carrick said as he checked the GPS that was mounted on the dashboard. They drove away from the town and all that was ahead of them was a flat brown landscape with bright blue skies above. Hearing the wind and little else made him realize how strange it was not to have the sound of gunfire and mortars and he wondered how long it was going to last.
“The leader of the PKK, which is the group responsible for waging a war for Kurdish independence, was brilliant because he not only wanted freedom for men but for women as well. He distinguished himself by making the empowerment of women a vital principle,” Audrey said as she dug into her bag. “I think that was what really inspired me to want to write about the group because nothing else like it exists in all of the Middle East.”
As they drove away from the town and hit a single-lane road heading east, Carrick thought about the many warriors he’d fought alongside and knew the measure of any person was what they carried in their heart. Gender didn’t matter when you entered battle, but what you were willing to sacrifice did. He leaned forward and saw a group of small buildings off in the distance and assumed it was the YPJ base. “When we get there, let’s send up a drone and make sure that the quiet is as good a sign as we’ve been told. I don’t want to be surprised by ISIS squirters when Audrey and Asli are inside.”
“Roger that,” Andrew replied. “Hey, did you ever work with Caid or Ace on Team One?”
“Ace was on my platoon about two years ago and I worked with Caid at some point, but I can’t recall which rotation it was.”
“I ran into them both at the base. They’re do
ing a short stint of training before they return to Coronado. They wanted to make sure we looked for them after we’re done today, so we can catch up.”
“Right on,” Carrick replied. “Ace is a hell of an operator with a sick sense of humor and it would be great to see him.”
Audrey leaned forward and put her hand on Carrick’s shoulder. “Are we close?”
Covering her hand with his, he grinned. “Almost. That group of buildings on the hill is where we’re headed.” She let out a contented sigh and the warm breath that blew over his neck sent a bolt of desire down his back. Breathing deeply, he squelched it and focused on what lay ahead. There was no room for his libidinous thoughts and he wouldn’t allow himself to become distracted, no matter how soft her hand felt and how much he wanted to kiss the hell out of her. “Focus and prepare,” he said silently.
Clearing his throat, he decided to repeat the phrase until he got himself under control. No matter how long it took.
***
Audrey sat inside the low-slung concrete building that housed the base and listened to Asli as she translated Akef’s story. Hearing how consumed she was with the ideology of defending their people and defeating ISIS, or anyone who opposed their freedom, made the life of discipline understandable.
And what a discipline it was, because essentially these women were unpaid volunteers and living in a militarized convent. By all indications, it wasn’t a sacrifice and they were in fact relishing every moment.
Which was almost inconceivable, since the moment they joined the ranks of the YPJ, they were committed to a celibate life, giving up the possibility of having romantic or sexual relationships.
That was a lot to forsake for a young woman and the only thing that made it seem possible was complete tunnel vision and discipline, which is what the women demonstrated. Clearly, they must’ve identified with the ideals early on because no other explanation made sense.
The YPG, after all, was a socialist movement and like any guerilla or freedom fighter group, they were encouraged to trade their individual identities for the larger collective identity of the group.
Asli looked over at Audrey and said, “Akef just explained that she isn’t scared of dying and knows it happens to everyone eventually. For her and her comrades, it will just come sooner, and will be because they are fighting for something they believe in.”
Giving the woman a smile, she thought it was remarkable to be eighteen and know what it was you’d be willing to live or die for. To have that kind of allegiance to a cause at such a young age was inconceivable.
She could barely settle on a career choice at thirty, and to have the sort of clarity these women seemed to have was something she craved.
“Akef asked why women in America are not allowed to fight in the infantry.”
“Tell her the reasons I’ve heard are varied. One is that men can’t emotionally handle seeing a female soldier get injured and there’s also the idea that women aren’t as physically strong as men and it could lead to conflicts if men and women are mixed in the theater of war.”
“That sounds like a lot of excuses,” Asli commented before translating for Akef. The laughter that came out Akef told them how ridiculous it sounded. “She said that if that were true, then it would play out with the YPG and YPJ and it doesn’t. The gender roles for women are strict in the Kurdish culture and most are not allowed to date, play sports, or even have one-on-one coffee dates with a male friend.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but I’ve never been in the military and Carrick or Andrew would be much better able to answer her question.” Akef said something in response and she waited for her to finish.
“She just said that she joined the YPJ because she was looking for something meaningful in her life and she was tired of living in a world dominated by men. Being part of the group allows her to take control of her future and, when she’s on the frontline, the thought of all the cruelty and injustice against women enrages her and allows her to become extra powerful in combat.”
“Let her know there are a lot of women in America who feel the same way.” Seeing the young woman’s excitement and fervor let her know that even if she died on the frontlines, she would feel it was worth it. Having something you believed in so strongly in many ways was a blessing because it got rid of all the extraneous nonsense that could so often shadow a person’s life.
“She just asked me if this is going to be a propaganda book or tell the true story of her and her sisters.”
Audrey shook her head and took Akef’s hand. “Asli, tell her that I’m only interested in the truth. I have no need make this a ‘girls with guns’ tale. I will not objectify them and present a false vaguely glamourous reality for Western audiences clamoring to see ISIS’ downfall.” She waited while Asli translated and saw Akef nod. “But women leading the fight is an important thing to share, so it can inspire people all over the world.”
Asli nodded and then listened as the young woman spoke. “The first time she killed an ISIS fighter was difficult, but then she got used to the idea and began to break into a loud cheer so that it could be heard by other jihadis,” Asli sat back and nodded. “She wanted to let them know that their worst nightmare had come true and their friend had been killed by a woman. The men from ISIS believe that if they’re killed by a woman, they’ll not be allowed into paradise, so for them, it is the worst fate possible. For the YPJ, the conflict isn’t just about cleansing their land of the militants, but it’s also letting all the anti-women groups that want to wipe women off the earth know that it will not be allowed by the YPJ.”
A young woman brought in a tray of tea and they each took a glass. As she sipped the sweet liquid, she wondered what she’d be willing to die for. Other than her family, she couldn’t come up with one thing, and that made her think of Carrick. He’d discovered what he was willing to die for early on and had gone about pursuing a life dedicated to the ideal. So few people managed it and she hoped that, before too long, she might too.
Hearing the sound of heavy footsteps, she turned and saw Carrick walk into the room. The smile he gave her as he approached made her stomach flip over and she almost let out a sigh. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, it’s quiet outside and I just wanted to check on you and see if you needed anything.” He bent down on one knee and put his hand on the small of her back. “We unpacked all the supplies we brought and put them in the kitchen. A woman named Narlene thanked us and asked us to stay for lunch.”
Looking over at Akef, she raised an eyebrow. “Should we accept?”
“Absolutely. If we don’t, it will be considered rude because hospitality is very important in the Kurdish culture.”
“Looks like we’re having lunch here,” Audrey responded.
“All right, we’ll be outside if you need us.”
Turning her face, she almost kissed Carrick on the cheek but stopped herself at the last minute. Showing physical affection was inappropriate and she’d almost forgotten. Seeing his flashing eyes, she looked down. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“Never crossed my mind.” He put his mouth close to her ear and spoke quietly. “It’s satisfying to know that your inclination is to kiss me when I’m near and, at the first opportunity, I’m going to show you how happy you make me.”
Her heart sped up and heat suffused her face. “You behave, Carrick, and leave me be while I’m working.”
“For now,” he replied as he stood. Nodding to the women, he then took his leave.
“Where were we?” Audrey asked. Hearing the young soldier speak, she schooled her expression and put Carrick and his devilish attentions at the back of her mind. Sitting with the soldier was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and she didn’t want to miss a thing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sunday, October 22nd
Carrick filled his coffee cup inside the mess hall and heard his name. Turning, he saw Ace Henderson. “I can’t go anywhere without running into a frogman.”
S
haking hands, they exchanged bro hugs and Carrick noticed his friend looked like shit. Which was surprising considering advising gigs were the easy ones. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but I’m afraid of the answer.”
Grabbing a cup, he filled it and then let out a growl. “Yeah, it’s nothing I want to talk about.”
“Which means it’s a woman.”
“Not going to talk about it,” he repeated as he stalked toward a table.
Following him, Carrick kept his mouth shut and knew to leave it alone. Once they were seated, he drank down half his coffee. “When is your rotation up?”
“Fourteen days.”
Looking around the building that once housed the Mohammed Fares School as well as the military and security forces, he wondered how long the U.S. planned on staying. “What rumors have you heard about long-term plans?”
