Authors: Mark Schultz
Letters from War (13 page)
April 14, 2007
Dear Mom:
I know I've been writing to you for some time, but this really feels like my first official letter. Maybe that's because I'm writing this from Camp Liberty. I'm no longer training. No longer in airborne school. I'm no longer wondering when the time will come. I'm here and it's real.
It's funny, too, because for some reason, I've been picturing this vast hot desert in Iraq. But it's still pretty cold over here. I think it's colder than it is in Johnson City at this time of the year. You gotta love the ironies of perceptions.
The guys in my unit are good ones. I've got a couple of Vols fans out here, believe it or not. A few of them are married, even have kids. Maybe I was expecting a bunch
of Rambos, but it's not been like that at all. Hollywood's portrayal of soldiers, especially in this war, doesn't always turn out to be accurate.
Dad used to say that all the time. Though it didn't stop him from watching all those John Wayne movies, huh?
This place reminds me of Dad. I think of the stories he used to tell me about coming over here. Sometimes I think I made them up. I don't know. But I've been thinking about him. About you guys.
I'm glad Dad told me what it was like to be a soldier in the army.
Then that makes me think of Britt. And of the day I'll meet my sonâand get to be a father myself.
I'd love that. Not necessarily to have a son to go in the military, but to have a child who would look up to me and love me. To be able to mold and shape that child.
Such a thought.
I miss you guys but remain excited to be here. Will hopefully be able to talk with you soon! Hug Britt for me.
Love,
James
April 22, 2007
Dear James,
I love talking to you, but I still adore getting your letters. They're special and I know that you get that. I can reread them. I guess I could record our conversations too but that's just not the same as reading your thoughts and feelings.
I'm so glad that things are going well for you. I look forward to hearing about your day-to-day duties. I'm curious. As your mother, I hope they're monotonous instead of harrowing. Action and suspense are fine if they're in a Tom Clancy novel, but I don't want them in one of your letters. Please.
Emily and I have been butting heads lately. Maybe it's normal. She's got all sorts of ideas of where she “wants” to go to college. Universities in Florida and California seem to really be attracting her attention. She's so smart but she's so headstrong. It seems as if she just wants to get far away from me.
I can just hear you now. And yes, I know. I don't want both of my children living miles away.
If that is part of the plan, I can accept it. But with Emily, I don't think she understands what “plan” means. You always had a plan. You always knew. Emily seems to discover what she knows with each passing day.
Britt has been coming over on a regular basis. I don't mean to complain about Emilyâshe's been so wonderful
and so open with Britt. She's already accepted her as a sister. It's hard to be frustrated with Em when she turns around and does stuff like that.
Summer doesn't seem far away and the regular schedule is going to be kicking in. We're going to miss having you around, especially when everybody gets together on Memorial Day. The parade and the party just won't be the same without you.
I love you and I'm praying all the time for you. Be careful and safe and make sure you stay in touch. At least one of my children can fill me in on what he's thinking and feelingâeven if he's all the way over in another world.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Mom
May 2, 2007
Dear Mom:
I experienced my first bomb.
How's that for an opening line? Well I did, but I only just heard it. It might have been miles away.
There's nothing to report, good or bad. I am thankful. But there's this funny thing I've been thinking about while here.
All this training and readiness. I know I'm physically fit and mentally strong, but deep down insideâthat's what I wonder about, Mom.
I can't tell any of these guys. There are guys who look terrified yet they're the ones who act the most macho. You can just see the fear in their eyes. I don't pretend I'm tough. Yet I still doubt.
If the time comes when I know without question that I'm going to have to take a life, will I be brave? Will I flinch?
It's one thing to stand guard and to patrol and to beware of all the possible signs.
But in battle, in the heat of the moment, will I be ready?
I pray I will but I don't know.
Some of the storiesâsoldiers getting killed for being stupid, for not being attentive, for simply walking the wrong pathâmake you think.
Keep praying, Mom. The security of your prayers is more reassuring than the rifle in my arms.
I should be talking to you any day now. Look forward to hearing your voice.
Love you,
James
May 13, 2007
Dear James,
It was so amazing to talk to you. Also a bit surreal. It felt like you were at home with Britt, that you guys were going to come over to Sunday dinner, that we were all going to be together for a while. Thanks so much for calling and surprising me.
I've been seeing a lot of Britt, trying to keep her spirits high. She puts on a good front, but I know it's hard for her. All I can do is share that I've been in her shoes. I know how difficult waiting and wondering can be. Even when you're able to call or e-mail or writeâor yes, even Skype (though don't push that on me!!).
I'm including a picture that I took of Britt the other day. She's so beautiful.
I know it's got to be difficultâeven on the boring days. I pray your days continue to be calm and quiet. Keep on being a positive role model for the other soldiers you're with. You might not believe it but I know you are one. Stay strong.
Surprise me any time you like with a call! I welcome it. Along with your continued letters.
Love you,
Mom
“I'm thinking of going to Chicago this summer.”
Emily's comment makes about as much sense as a green alien knocking on the door and asking for a place to spend the night.
“What?”
Sometimes a single word can be so much more. A single word combined with a skeptical laugh and a bewildered scowl along with a dismissive posture and tone⦠well, sometimes a “What?” can mean much, much more.
“There's an outdoor music festival that's taking place in early August.”
If Beth hadn't already asked “What?” she'd do it again.
She closes the dishwasher that she'd asked Emily earlier to unload, then walks into the family room where her daughter is standing.
“What music festival?”
“It's called Lollapalooza.”
“Lolla-what?”
“It's where a bunch of bands go and play in a park in the middle of Chicago.”
“Chicago? So whatâyou're just going to drive there?”
“Trish is driving. A bunch of people are going.”
“Oh, okay.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Beth says.
“Are you saying I can't go?”
“Are you asking me permission?”
“No,” Emily says, but she sounds uncertain.
“How long will you be gone?”
“The fest is Friday to Sunday. So we'd probably go Thursday and come back on a Monday.”
“What about your job?”
“They're fine.”
“You already asked them?”
“Sure. They don't care. They have enough servers wanting to work.”
“And you're not one of them?”
“I'm going to take some time off before going back to school.”
“So you're taking the whole month of August off?”
Emily is looking at her iPhone.
She's always looking at that thing and never looking at me.
“Emilyâ”
“What?”
“Do you want to go out of spite?”
Her daughter's gaze meets her own. There's a fire in that look, a kind that sometimes scares her.
It's like looking at Richard.
“Out of spite?” Emily asks. “For what?”
“I don't know. Justâthings.”
“They've got some great groups playing this year. I had to miss last year.”
“I was hoping we could do a few things before the end of the summer.”
“You said that at the beginning of summer.”
“I know.”
And thanks for reminding me, too.
“I've been around, Mom.”
“I've been busy.”
“Busy? Busy at what?”
“Can you put that phone down and look at me?”
Emily does so and the feisty look intensifies.
“You know all the things I do.”
“Yeah, like babysit Britt.”
“Em, don't say that.”
“It's true. And it's fine. But I don't need babysitting, Mom. I've already told you that.”
“I'm not talking about babysitting.”
“Then what
are
you talking about? Taking a trip to James's military base? Or how about going by to see Dad's gravestone? Or maybe renting
Schindler's List
?”
“Stop it.”
“I don't want to look back, Mom. I'm tired of looking back. I'm tired of waiting to hear something. Don't you get sick of it?”
She wants to reply. She only nods.
“I've been here almost a month, Mom. You're so busy and yetâwhat? When are you going to decide there's time for me?”
“This tripâare you going because you're angry?” she asks again.
Emily laughs. “I'm going because I like a bunch of the bands playing. That's all. That and the fact that it's summer. And I'm twenty-one.
I'm
not in the army, Mom.”
“Don't.”
“Then you don't,” Emily says. “It's a weekend. A long weekend. It's a fun break. And it's not for another month.”
“Maybe I could go with.”
“Oh, yeah, you'd love that. The heat and the crowds and the loud music.”
“Maybe I
should
go.”
“You'd have to check with the army first, right? You
have to tell them where you're going to be at all times. Can't go off the âbase.'”
“What's gotten into you today?”
“I don't know. Nothing.”
“Em, what is it?”
“I already told you. It's just that being hereâit reminds me of all the things that you've gone through.”
“That we've gone through.”
“I'd rather not have to remember. It's easier that way.”
Beth?
“Yes. Here I am.”
She's here but she's still unwilling.
It's nighttime and the melancholy shadows have surfaced. They're coming too frequently these days. They're not going away as often as they normally would.
Beth recalls the familiar story but sees it in a whole new light.
She wonders if she could do the same.
Take your son, your only sonâ¦
He's already gone,
she thinks in the silence of the house.
He's already sacrificed.
Beth?
The voice in her head says her name over and over again. It's just her mind playing tricks, the silence
getting to her, the demons of doubt whispering words in her ear.
Then again,
she thinks,
maybe it's not demons. Maybe it's God trying to get to me, trying to test me.
Or maybe free you.
It's nighttime and she's just about ready to write James a letter.
Where is the lamb for the sacrifice?
All this time. All these months. Almost two whole years.
