by Lea Hart
“Heard we’re adopting this one as a long-term base.”
“What do you think of the SDF?”
“Everything I’ve seen tells me they can get the job done. Not only are we training them, but we’re assisting with joint fires. Everyone here is working toward a goal of them being able to successfully utilize available capabilities for a target. The Army has provided their high-mobility artillery rocket systems and it made a difference for them last week in Raqqa. It’s a dynamic battlefield, just like we experienced in the Sandbox, and for a young infantry group, they’re doing a hell of a job.”
“I heard the key leaders are older and they have a good command climate with engaged soldiers.”
“That’s true,” Ace replied. “The people we’ve worked with are some of the best-partnered forces I’ve ever been with. They’re motivated, disciplined, and not willing to give up. The hardest thing we’ve had to do so far is convince them to be patient. A lot of the SDF soldiers had family in Raqqa and getting them to understand that preparing the battlefield was necessary wasn’t always easy.”
“Yeah, I remember that feeling soon after I had my Trident pinned on my chest. I was hungry for battle and it was only because I had a strong commander that I survived that first rotation.”
“Hell, we were all like that. If we weren’t, we never would’ve wanted to be on the Teams.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
“Do you miss it?” Ace asked as he drained his coffee.
“When I retired, it felt like I’d lost a limb and it wasn’t until I went to work with Rear Admiral Foster that I started to get a glimpse of a future that I didn’t hate.”
“Other than running guard-dog duty for authors, what have you been doing?”
Crossing his arms, he sat back and let out a laugh. “When you meet the author that I’m protecting, you’re going to ask yourself how quickly you can join Titan.”
“That good, man?”
“Yeah, the old saying that the second act is the best might not be total bullshit.”
“I’m guessing your change in attitude has to do with this specific author and not guard-dog duty in general.”
“You would be correct.” He saw the door to the mess hall open and watched Audrey walk in and look around. When she caught sight of him, she gave him a smile that let him know once again he wanted more time with her. “Here she comes.”
Ace looked up and let out a low whistle. “She’s too damn pretty for someone as ugly as you. Maybe you should step aside and let a good looking guy like me have a chance.”
“Fuck you, man, because she’s mine.”
“Good morning.” Stepping up to the table, she put her hand out to Ace. “Audrey Barnes.”
Standing, he took her hand gently and grinned. “Lt. Ace Henderson at your service.”
“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“She’s never going to need anything from you, so just sit down,” Carrick barked as he took Audrey’s hand and guided her to a spot next to him. Once she was settled, he laced their hands together and moved closer.
“Do you need more coffee or are you just feeling ornery this morning?” Audrey asked as she shifted on the bench.
“I’m doing great, babe. I waited for you before going through the chow line and I’m ready to eat if you are.”
“Sure, let’s do that and then decide if we want to go to Ad-Darbasiyah or Qamishli.”
“You guys can tag along with Caid and me when we head down to Raqqa if you want.”
“Seriously?” Audrey said as she leaned forward. “I’d love to see what’s left of the city and I’m sure there are going to be plenty of women from the YPJ around, so I might have a chance to speak to some of them.”
“I don’t know, Audrey. It might not be a great idea, considering they haven’t cleared the mines yet.”
“We’re not going to take a stroll through the rubble,” Ace said. “We’re going to see the speeches. One of the platoons we trained asked us to join them because they felt like we had a lot to do with their success.”
“We’ll definitely be coming,” Audrey said as she looked up at Carrick. “Right?”
“Babe, when you look at me like that, it’s hard to refuse you anything.”
“Good, then that means we can go.”
Ace let out a bark of laughter. “Hold up your hand, Audrey.”
She took her hand away from Carrick and held it up. “Why?”
“Just wanted to see what it looked like to have Carrick wrapped around your little finger.”
Carrick let his gaze bounce between them and shook his head. “Keep looking because it’s not happened yet.”
“Yes, it has, my friend, and the sooner you accept it, the better off you are.”
Carrick stood and put his hand out for Audrey. “Let’s eat.”
“Yes, lord and master, whatever you say.” When she took his hand and stood, he wanted to kiss her, not only to stop the sass but because he wanted there to be no confusion they were together. Knowing he couldn’t only made him tighten his grip as they walked across the room. “Just know that the lord and master comment isn’t going to be forgotten.”
“I figured as much and know when we have a chance to be alone, you’ll show me exactly how lord and mastery you can be. Patting his arm, she bit her bottom lip. “I promise to do my best to go along and…” she looked him up and down, and grinned, “to serve.”
Groaning, he shut his eyes and thought of the many steps it took to take apart his gun and put it back together. It was the only hope he had of not advertising to the room exactly how little control he had. “Have mercy, Audrey.”
“You say that now, but I bet you won’t be interested in it when the times comes.” She let out a snort of laughter and covered her mouth. “Get it…come.”
He handed her a tray and pointed to the line. “Behave, otherwise, when we’re alone, I’ll forget why I’m a gentleman.”
“Well, that’s reason enough not to.”
Before he could say more, Andrew and Asli walked up and he was saved from any more of Audrey’s naughty comments. It had been over seventy-two hours since they’d been together, and he didn’t have much patience or good manners left in him. Considering he had at least another forty-eight, he didn’t need any more pictures in his head. “We’re heading down to Raqqa today.”
“Cool,” Andrew replied as he started to fill his tray. “Are we going with Caid and Ace?”
“Affirmative.” Following Audrey down the line, he kept his eyes up and tempered his thoughts. No way was he going to be less than a hundred percent today because even though ISIS had been driven out, it wasn’t over.
Far from it.
***
Audrey sat in the mess hall with Asli while they waited for Carrick and Andrew. They’d been called into a meeting with the base commander thirty minutes ago and she had no idea what it was about and didn’t know if she ever would.
Seeing two men from the YPG walk in, she wondered if it would be appropriate to try and speak with them. The chance to hear their thoughts on fighting alongside the women from the YPJ would be invaluable. “Let’s see if they’d be willing to speak with us.”
Asli looked up and nodded. “I think it’s a good idea.”
Watching the men go through the chow line, she waited until they were settled. “Let’s go see if they’ll chat with us.”
They approached the men’s table and Asli explained why they were there as Audrey looked on. “Tell them we’d really appreciate it.”
“We speak English,” one of the men said. He stood and tilted his head. “I am Mustafa Taher and this is my comrade, Adan Hassan.”
“If you have a few moments, I would love to hear about your experiences.”
“Of course.” Mustafa sat down and nodded to places across the table. “Join us.”
Audrey squeezed Asli’s hand and sat down. “Congratulations on the victory in Raqqa.”
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“It is not over,” Mustafa replied. “We have many more confrontations before we’ve cleansed our land of ISIS.”
“What do you think will happen next?”
Adan drank his coffee and shook his head. “The battle for our land is far from over. The moment we removed the black flag of ISIS from Raqqa’s central square, we immediately asked ourselves: What is next?”
Mustafa nodded. “We hear that politicians from Rojava hope a deal with the White House can be struck as a reward for eliminating ISIS, but we will see.”
“It will depend if the President sees an advantage in transforming his military backing into political collateral. In other words: ‘What’s in it for him?’”
“We are surrounded on all sides by forces that would like to see us fail,” Adan said as he studied the table. “Directly south lies more ISIS territory and to the west is the Free Syrian Army, which is nothing more than a rabble of Islamist factions including the al-Nusra Front. And, to the north, we have Turkey, the nemesis of Syrian Kurds.”
“The Turkish president’s increasingly autocratic rule will probably result in further military action against us,” Mustafa added. “Last month, Turkish airstrikes destroyed Kurdish command centers that killed about two dozen fighters. Add to that our neighbors in the East, the Kurdistan regional governments that accuse us of presiding over an oppressive regime and we don’t know who will strike next.”
“So, how do you go on and continue the fight?” Audrey asked.
“Because we have no choice,” Adan responded. “My youngest sister joined the YPJ the moment she turned eighteen and was martyred within a year. We do what we have to so that upcoming generations may have a chance at a future free from oppression.”
“Tell us about your sister,” Asli said.
“My sister, Berivan, wanted to know more about the political rights of the Kurdish people in Syria, so she started attending national activities organized by different political movements in Kobane. We are a family of nine children and had limited financial resources, so going to the city to complete her secondary schooling wasn’t an option.
“Berivan read many of the Kurdish labor party leader’s books and became inspired. She joined the YPJ in Kobane and eventually developed good fighting skills. When the battle for Kobane began, she was on the front lines. My father begged her to come home, but she refused. She told him she’d rather die than live under the control of ISIS and become a slave. She was killed within the first week and we honor her death and sacrifice.”
“We will never surrender and never give up the fight, no matter how many forces come against us,” Mustafa added. “It’s our honor to fight for our people.”
Nodding, Audrey felt herself choke back tears as she studied both men. “I admire you both a great deal.”
“I’m proud of my sister’s martyrdom and I refuse to accept consolation for her loss and would rather be congratulated on her heroic death,” Adan added. “She lived her life fully and that is a luxury most people never have.”
“That is the truest thing anyone has ever said,” Audrey replied. Studying the men she realized that to have that, made whatever sacrifice worthwhile.
Few people had the chance to experience it and if she did nothing else with the book she was writing, she wanted to at least convey that. Because after all, it was the point of everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY
As they followed Caid and Ace along the highway, Audrey looked out at the land and thought it looked peaceful. If you didn’t know any better, the fields of wheat that stretched toward the horizon might make you think it was a country that had never seen conflict.
The only sign of politics was the huge portraits of the Turkish-Kurdish leader, Abdullah Ocalan of the militant PKK that suggested otherwise. Then came other faces on billboards—the ones of young martyrs, their features blanched by the sun that reminded anyone who passed that this was, in fact, a country fighting for its very existence.
And they were getting nearer every day because not only had Bashir Al-Assad left them alone, but they were getting closer and closer to driving ISIS out of their homeland completely.
The cost, though high, was probably deemed worthwhile, considering they now had a chance of deciding what their future looked like. A future they were going to have to rebuild from the rubble of the demolished cities and towns. She thought of the drone feed she’d seen of Raqqa before they left the base, and though the extent of the damage was still being assessed, the images she’d seen revealed mile after mile of damaged buildings, rubble-filled streets, and destroyed landmarks.
The Kurds had won a hell of a battle but unfortunately, the war in front them was going to provide more unimaginable challenges. Because, they were going to have to come up with some form of government that wasn’t totalitarian and hospitable to extremist religious groups.
Would they succeed?
Hopefully, because the idea of a group like ISIS solidifying control again like they did back in early 2014 was unthinkable. The public executions they staged of those who ran afoul of their strict interpretation of Islam was almost inconceivable to her very American mind. The idea that a group could come along and impose their will on another was as foreign to her as living in space.
Possible, but not probable.
How had anyone survived?
Even though all that was left of the city was bombed out shells, wasn’t that preferable to living under ISIS rule? Knowing there wasn’t an easy answer either way, she studied the flat, rock-strewn landscape and briefly thought about her tiny apartment in New York.
There couldn’t be two more diametrically opposed pictures and she wondered what she was going to feel like when she returned in just a couple of days.
The opportunity she’d had yesterday to walk through the French cement factory where one of the early battles occurred had marked her in some way. The echo of the wind and their quiet conversation had been the only sound around them as several of the women had taken her and Asli on a tour, and she wondered how she was going to adjust to the constant noise of the city, upon her return.
Experiencing the breadth of space and lack of buildings certainly wasn’t so much different than where she grew up, but being inside this country at this point in history was making her question her place in the world.
Which was the point of travel after all, whether it be for work or pleasure.
This excursion into Syria wasn’t the exception to that rule and she could feel the beginning of a shift in her own goals and dreams. No doubt, she’d eventually incorporate the changes as she rebuilt her life, but what that would look like was anyone’s guess.
Much like what was happening all over the Kurdish region.
Rebuilding a city after utter destruction was happening all over the area, not only in Mosul, but Ramadi, and Falluja, and, of course, Kobane.
What it took to redefine and rebuild was still being determined, and hopefully, she’d have a chance to see Kobane’s transformation before they left. Several of the women she’d spoken to yesterday had shared their experience of being part of the battle and to see their efforts result in the city being rebuilt would be amazing.
One of the women had told her the roads are still being repaved and buildings are slowly being reconstructed. Considering the Syrian government wasn’t involved, it was no small feat that they’d managed as much as they had.
Pulling out her notebook, she glanced at the notes she’d made yesterday to go along with the recording and thought about the next set of questions she wanted to ask. Closing her eyes, she let the possibilities flow and hoped she’d have at least a dozen by the time they arrived in Raqqa.
***
As Audrey stood next to Carrick in front of the square of Raqqa and listened to the impassioned speeches of victory, she squeezed his hand. “You bring me to the best places.”
When he didn’t respond right away, she looked up and saw that he was looking around and probably cataloging any
potential threats. Andrew stood at her and Asli’s backs and she figured he wasn’t paying attention to the celebratory vibe of the people gathered.
They were standing at the edge of the crowd toward the back, and she knew that between Carrick and Andrew, they had at least three exfil plans, should they need them. Looking over at Asli, she smiled and shrugged. “I guess it’s up to you and me to take it all in.”
“A lot of SDF propaganda is being repeated and, while I appreciate their victory, I’m getting tired of hearing the same thing.”
