Love In The House Of War

by Scott A Meehan

  Several joggers and walkers smiled and nodded their approval as they passed by, usually with a comment or two.

  “Can we stay for the sunset, dad?” Caleb asked.

  “Your father has to get up very early tomorrow morning,” Sarah answered.

  “It's okay, babe. Sure thing, man. You take great sunset shots.”

  “What about dinner?” Asha asked.

  “I say we stop by Desano's and gouge on pizza.” Ron responded to the group.

  “Yeah!” Seth yelled while pumping his fist in the air.

  Ron looked pleadingly at Sarah who seemed to be concerned for his needed sleep. She smiled back with an assuring smile, indicating she understood his desire to be together as a family.

  “Dad, can I talk to you now?” Caleb asked.

  “Sure, son. What's up?”

  “I mean, alone.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right. Will you three excuse us for a moment?”

  “Come on you two, you can help me get the food stuff put away.” Sarah said.

  Ron walked with Caleb to a nearby tree. “What's up, son?”

  “Well, Asha, Seth, and I have been talking and we're really scared about you leaving for this one.”

  Ron reached his hand over to the back of Caleb's head and pulled him close to him. Extending his other arm around him, he gave Caleb a fatherly hug as Caleb began to cry. “It will be okay, son. I'll be back before you know it and it'll be for the last time.”

  “Promise?” He managed through his sobbing.

  “Yes, Caleb, I do promise.”

  Pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, he gave it to his dad. “This is for you. I wrote it.”

  Ron unfolded the paper and read it.

  PRINCE IN A PARCHED LAND

  Like a shelter from the wind

  A refuge from the storm

  Like water in the desert

  You are the shadow of a great rock

  “This is really cool, Caleb. I'll keep it with me everywhere I go and read it back to you when I return.”

  Caleb smiled as he wiped away tears from his cheek. “Thanks dad.”

  Sarah watched Ron return with his arm around Caleb. The conversation must have been sobering, a verbal expression of what everyone was thinking. If somebody is going to express himself deeply, it would be Caleb, Sarah thought. Her heart went out to him.

  “Caleb?”

  “Yes, mom?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, mom.”

  Asha and Seth were busy cleaning and fussing over trivial matters. Seth was giving her a hard time because on more than one occasion, she stopped her clean-up detail to watch the male college students either run or ride by while they glanced at Sarah, who was paying them no mind.

  “They're not looking at you anyway, so get to work and stop making me do everything,” Seth told her.

  “You're such a brat!” Sarah said smiling.

  With the sun dropping beyond the western horizon, the Hawkins finished loading up their Highlander and headed for home, with a stop at Desano's for pizza and games. Afterwards, everybody, except for Persia, needed sleep. Sarah went straight up to the bathroom and started the hot water for a bubble bath. Ron herded the three kids into their rooms and then made a special stop in each, starting with the youngest, Seth.

  “I heard that you set records at the Y for your swimming.”

  “Yeah. I like to swim. It's fun.”

  “That's awesome, Seth. Maybe someday you'll be in the Olympics.”

  “Maybe, but I'd rather be a hockey player.”

  “Really? There's hockey in the Olympics too; the winter games.”

  “There is? I want to be on a pro team though, like the Predators.”

  Ron remembered when he took the family to a Predator game last season but did not realize Seth liked it so much. “When I return, we'll go to another game.”

  “Alright, cool! Dad, can I join the hockey league at the Y? They start at ages 8.”

  “Hmmm, I didn't know they had one.”

  “They do!”

  “I'll talk it over with your mother.”

  “Aww. She won't let me.”

  “You asked her already?”

  “Sort of.”

  “I'll talk with her, but no promises, okay?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “I do promise to take you to a Predator game though.”

  Seth smiled.

  “I'd like to pray with you and give you a farewell hug, okay?”

  “Okay dad.”

  When Ron was finished praying he gave him a hug and said, “I love you, Seth.”

  “I love you too, dad.” Ron went into Caleb's room next. Caleb reminded him of their conversation in the park after Ron prayed with him. “Don't forget to take my poem with you, dad.”

  “Never. Got it right here,” Ron answered while patting his pocket.

  His last stop was in Asha's room. She was waiting for him at the side of the bed, patting the spot next to her. “Right here, dad. I need a word with you.”

  Ron chuckled as he sat down. “Oh, you do, do ya?”

  “Yes. I have an order to give you,” Asha began sternly as if she was in the military.

  “Yes, ma'am!” Ron answered, sitting rigidly.

  “You will come back soon and take me on a Father-daughter date and we'll both be such a lovely couple in perfect health.” Ron could tell that Asha's voice had trailed with a little quiver as she tried to finish.

  “Yes, Ma'am! My beautiful girl, it's a date!”

  “Oh, dad,” Asha managed just before breaking down with sobs.

  Ron held his daughter, running his hand through her hair and kissing her on the forehead. “God will be with me there, Asha. Everything will be fine. You'll see. Please be strong for your mother and me. She'll really need you.”

  Asha tried to stop crying abruptly and began wiping away her tears. “I'm sorry dad, I…”

  “No, no, I'm the one sorry, Asha. You have every right to feel the way you do. I'm gonna really miss you, girl!” Ron said, trying to hold the tears back himself.

  “We will definitely have a date when I return.”

  Asha smiled. “I love you dad.”

  “I love you too, honey. I love you so much. Try to get some sleep now, alright?”

  “Okay. Goodnight.”

  Ron entered his room and plopped on the bed, leaning forward, cupping his hands together in front of him, he prayed, “O God, for their sake, and the sake of their mother, please bring me home quickly, safely and securely beneath your wings. I beg you.”

  “Ron?” Sarah's voice was soft.

  He got up and went to the bathroom where she was bathing. Sitting on the side of the tub, he said, “It never gets any easier. In fact, it's harder than ever.” Ron mumbled.

  Sarah looked at him adoringly. “Ron, you are our world. We will always be here for you. Never forget this.”

  “I know baby, I know. That is what bothers me the most. Why am I trying to save the world when my world is right here?”

  Sarah could see that Ron was uptight, deep in thought. She leaned forward, scooped a handful of bubbles from the tub and laid them on Ron's lap. Then she tried her best to inscribe, I love you, in the bubbles. He smiled. Sarah reached forward to unplug the drain and then stood up as Ron watched her. Extending her hand towards him, she asked, “Give me a hand please?”

  Ron did not say anything as he helped her out of the tub. Assuming she needed a towel, he grabbed the folded one on the counter-top and offered it to her. Sarah walked past him without grabbing the towel and entered the shower through the elegant glass door. “Are you going to stand there and hold a towel or will you join me in here?”

  Smiling, Ron placed the towel down and quickly removed his clothes for a steamy shower.

  Lying quietly together, the last words Sarah said to Ron before falling asleep were, “Please hold me.” She rested her head on his chest, strands of black-reddish t
int hair stretching across his body like rivers of black water glistening with the full moon. Her hand started on his face, lowered to his shoulder, and slumped like a rag-doll across his arm before she faded into dreamland.

  Ron stared at the ceiling fan above until his eyes could no longer stay open.

  5

  September 4, 2014

  “Hawk!” Ron was in a deep sleep, dreaming about the loud blades moving closer and closer to him from his bedroom ceiling.

  “HAWK!” Chris shouted a bit louder.

  He snapped awake to the sound of rotor blades cutting into the night air. “What?”

  “We're almost there. Better get ready,” Master Sergeant Chris Short yelled above the sound.

  Ron stood up, groggily strapped on his pack. He watched SFC Walker stand, lift his arm in the air, and circled with his index finger. “Alright, let's go!”

  Chris helped by moving down the line to wake up anybody who might still be sleeping.

  Ten other Special Forces soldiers from Fifth Group threw their gear onto their backs and grabbed their weapons. The communications sergeant had an additional heavy bag, as did the two medics.

  Ron walked towards the rear of the twin-rotor MH-47 Chinook helicopter and peered through the opened back. Glowing flames shot from all the oil refineries spread across the flatlands of Kirkuk.

  After the chopper banked hard to the left, the view changed to flickering blue and green lights of an airfield spread across the surrounding darkness. Beyond the door gunners, activity filled the tarmac. Silhouetted soldiers approached the bird as it sat down with a thud. Ron led the way forward down the ramp, the rest of the team in tow.

  When ISIS swept across Iraq in June, government troops dropped their guns and ran, allowing them to take over Mosul, the second largest city in Iraq, along with a 200-mile stretch of the Tigris river valley. The Kurdish Peshmerga did the opposite, standing up to them and driving them out of Kirkuk. In a short period, they took control of the oil resources in northern Iraq after deploying armed forces to the Kirkuk and Bai Hassan oilfields. Since the official Iraqi government opposed the takeover, the mere presence of Ron and his team was highly classified.

  CIA agent, Brad Davis, stepped up to Ron since he was the first off the aircraft and extended his hand. A Kurdish soldier stood next to him. “First Sergeant Hawkins?”

  Ron shook it and said, “That's right.”

  “I'm Brad Davis and this is Major Bassam Mohamed Kamal.”

  “Call me Kamal,” he added while extending his hand. “Good to see the Americans.”

  “Follow me,” Davis said.

  Ron exchanged glances with Chris, then nodded to Walker.

  “Just keep tight and alert,” he called out to the team who were in a defensive cigar shaped perimeter behind Ron and Chris.

  Davis led them into an open hangar. Stopping short of a door leading inside some offices, he turned to Ron and said, “Your men can rest here. Please come with me.”

  Ron looked at Chris who shook his head. “Walker.”

  SFC Walker moved towards Short. “Have the guys unpack sleeping gear and find a place to set their stuff down somewhere out of the way.”

  Walker turned around to face the men. “Alright guys, let's move to that open corner there and unpack.”

  Davis, Kamal and Ron went through the door and into one of the offices. Behind a gray metal desk, another Peshmerga officer sat reading documents. Next to him was a female in uniform waiting further instructions from the commander. She looked to be in her late twenties, dark hair and eyes to match. She glanced at Ron briefly and gave him a polite smile.

  Ron's initial impression was that their uniforms were too crisp and clean. The guards outside wore dark green camouflage and sported black berets. They held AK-47 with their front packs stacked with filled ammo pouches. Some had the Kurdish red, white, and green patch sewn onto the front of their packs. He and Chris were told that The Peshmerga forces were 190,000 strong, not counting the militia. Ron knew that these forces were the only viable challenge to the ISIS jihadi threat.

  The officer handed the document to the female soldier, who said something in Kurdish and smartly walked away smiling at Ron on the way out. “First Sergeant Hawkins, pleasure to meet you,” the burly man bellowed as he stood and reached across his desk to shake Ron's hand. “I'm Colonel Ibrahim Mustafa.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  “Please, sit down. I know you had a long journey from America and then Irbil. We are so glad you are here.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Call me Mustafa, I insist. Cigar?”

  “No thank you, si…Mustafa.”

  The Colonel laughed heartily. “Perhaps some black tea? Surely, you could use some of this after your long flight.”

  “I'd love some, thank you.”

  Mustafa nodded towards Kamal who opened the door into another room and spoke to somebody Ron could not see.

  “Alaa will bring us some fresh tea in a moment. Soon, you and your men can rest and in the morning we will have a big feast with strong coffee for you Americans.”

  “We're very appreciative.”

  “Ah, just in time.”

  Alaa, the female soldier that Ron saw moments earlier brought in a silver tray with a small teapot and two cups. After setting it down on Mustafa's desk, she poured some for Ron and handed him a cup and a smile. “Supas,” Ron told her.

  “Nos.”

  “To all of our good health and fortune!” Mustafa added.

  Ron sipped his tea slowly, engaging in small talk for a few minutes before Mustafa stood up and announced, “Why don't you and your men get some sleep. We'll eat big in the morning and discuss the mission you have been sent here to complete.”

  “You know about my mission?”

  “Oh yes, Sergeant Hawkins. Your mission has reached to the highest level and only the four of us know of your true mission. Everyone else, including your team, are here to help guide the upcoming bombing of ISIS positions.”

  Ron looked at Davis. “I see.”

  “But, more of that later. Please. Get some sleep.”

  “Shaw bash,” Ron uttered.

  Mustafa laughed. “And good night to you, my friend.”

  Davis, Kamal and Ron left the office and returned to the hangar where the remaining team were bedding down in cots. “Good night Sergeant Hawkins,” Kamal said. “We will have breakfast outside near the place where you landed.”

  “What time?”

  “As soon as the sun rises.”

  “Okay, good night, major.”

  Davis looked at Ron. “A brief word with you? In private.”

  Ron looked at him suspiciously. “Alright Mr. Davis.”

  The agent nodded his head towards the hangar entrance and Ron followed him outside. Chris gave him the “What's going on?” look prompting Ron to raise his shoulders.

  There were a few guards standing around so Davis led him further down the trail. “Things here are in full swing. The Kurds, along with a few Iraqi forces, have retaken control of the Mosul Dam, reversing one of the Islamic State's key achievements in its sweep through northern Iraq. They are ready to launch operations to retake Tikrit next. This came about only after our intensive airstrikes on their positions.”

  “This is good news, Mr. Davis.”

  “Please call me Brad.”

  “Alright.”

  “I'm not sure how much you were told about your mission.”

  “I am aware of the mission but no planning details.”

  “I see. Our plan will begin tomorrow morning, following breakfast.”

  Ron remained silent, expecting to hear more.

  “Why don't you go ahead and get some sleep tonight and we'll discuss this in the morning. I'll introduce you to Lyna then.”

  “Lyna?”

  “Yes, an expat working for us at the agency. She will be joining you. I'll give you the details tomorrow. Get some rest,” Davis added as he slapped
Ron on the shoulder and walked away. “You'll need it.”

  His mind swirling, Ron watched Davis leave and then sauntered towards his cot, which he figured Chris had set up for him. “How did that go?” Chris asked.

  “With the Kurds or the spook?

  Chris laughed. “Yes.”

  “Short and sweet with the Kurds.” Ron walked closer to Chris and whispered, “We'll be receiving a brief tomorrow morning after breakfast. What did the old man tell you about this mission?”

  “Only the fact I was supposed to watch you while you conduct some classified operation. Care to tell me what it's all about?”

  “You can come with me to the brief in the morning. Then we'll both know.”

  “You mean…?”

  “Nope. Not exactly.”

  “This should be fun, Hawk.”

  “Even more so when we discover who is coming along for the ride.”

  “Someone we know?”

  “Maybe. She's with Davis. Only gave me her name.”

  “She? Her?”

  “Yep. 'She' would be Lyna.”

  “Jeez, Hawk. You don't suppose…”

  “I'd bet you a dollar to a donut she's the same one.”

  “Wow! If it is, be very careful Hawk. She's quite the…”

  “Don't say it. You don't have to tell me.”

  Lyna Hussein Al-Jamil, a beautiful expatriate from the Anbar province, was recruited by John Banks to provide intelligence for Carter's team in 2006. The whole 5thGroup community and beyond knew about her and John Banks, a former team member. They had an extramarital relationship leading to a nasty divorce with his American wife of ten years and his departure from the Army. The scandalous circumstances continued when less than two years later, Lyna had dumped him and got a high-paying position with the agency under suspicious speculation of yet another relationship between her and the head of the Middle Eastern section of the department.

  Chris shook his head slowly. “I don't know Hawk. Any idea how it's going to go down?”

  “Not yet, but I'll find out in the morning. Come on, let's get some sleep.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Where's the latrine?”

  Chris laughed. “Go around the back of the hangar.”