A Lover's Lament(39)

“We only have your platoon to execute this specific mission since the rest of the company needs to continue with the mission at hand, so we need you guys to suck it up for the next few weeks. It’s going to be some long hours, but this is pretty damn important, so keep your heads on straight. I’m going to leave you with Captain Kendricks here, and he can let you know how the rotations will go. Stay strong, gentlemen, we’re halfway through.”

He nods to Captain Kendricks and heads out of the room as fast as his short legs can take him. I can’t help but smirk.

Captain Kendricks waits for the colonel to exit before addressing us. “As Colonel Birch stated, this is a major task for such a small contingent, so hours will be long. Staff Sergeant Richards and Staff Sergeant Baker, being that you’re both higher ranking and more experienced, we will have you cover the night shift … 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. It’s more likely that if shit is gonna go down, it’s going down at night.”

Richards and Baker nod toward Captain Kendricks and he continues, shifting his focus to us. “Clay and Adams, that means you guys are on first shift. We need you to grab your guys, divvy them up between three trucks, and be on your way. Coordinates, unit call signs, and all that shit will be provided to you by your platoon leaders.”

“Hooah, Sir,” Adams and I say in unison as Captain Kendricks turns his attention back to the platoon leaders.

“PLs do not need to take part in these missions, but I will leave it to your discretion. Those that don’t will be here in HQ with me. I need you all to stay behind for a second so we can go over the details. The rest of you can head out. Are there any questions? No? Good! Let’s get to work.”

The four of us pile out of the room as the captain continues his discussion with the platoon leaders. “Hey, Clay, you pussies enjoy your twelve hours twiddling your dicks in the sun. Baker and I will worry about doing some real infantry shit.” I look back and see Richards with a shit-eating grin on his face. His thick, red pornstache straddles his upper lip like a saddle. Baker juts his chin out and smirks at me.

I turn back around without saying a thing, but Adams whips his head back toward them. “Oh, f*ck you, Richards, we don’t speak ginger. Baker, can you please translate for the hellspawn?” Adams chuckles and looks to see if I am too, which of course I am. A good ginger joke goes a long way with me. But I’m also partly laughing at Adams’ constant need for affirmation. I like the guy, but f*cking sh—

“Shit, you think the New York garbage that comes out of your mouth is any better? You guys stink of envy,” Baker snaps at Adams as they reach the door.

I try not to give a shit about what they’re saying, but they’re right. Here in beautiful Baghdad, they only really like to come out and play at night. The days are left to roadside bombs and excessive sweating. I’m about to say something, but I cut myself off because it’s just not worth it. My focus is Katie and the possibility of an email sitting in my inbox. How f*cking amazing would it be to hear from her. Just then, a voice catches my attention.

“Yo, Clay!” Sergeant Tavares, our radio operator, calls from the communications room. The buzz of radio chatter plays like an orchestra behind him. “Come here for a second.”

I turn and approach him as the others exit the building. I notice a letter in his hand and my heart leaps into my throat. I try to restrain my excitement, but a heavy buzz sits just under the skin. Maybe it’s not even mine.

He hands it to me. “This came in with the mail shipment last night, and I forgot to drop it off to you.” I snatch it from his hand and narrow my gaze before flipping it over.

Katie Devora.

A smile cracks my face. “Thanks, dude.”

I don’t even look at him. Keeping my eyes locked onto the letter, I turn and quickly make my way toward the exit. Before I can get the door open, the shrill voice of Lieutenant Dixon calls out from the conference room. “Clay, come here real quick. We need to go over this shit.”

I slowly turn and fight the desire to strangle him right then and there. He holds up a notepad with a page full of writing and jams a finger into it. My shoulders drop a bit, as I know what’s about to come, and I have to force my eyes not to roll as I walk toward him, reluctantly slipping the letter into my cargo pocket.




My temples beat like drums as I clench my teeth tightly together, withholding all words because the only ones I want to use have four letters. We’re cruising down the road with Thomas at the wheel, Navas in the turret hatch, me in the passenger seat, and our interpreter, “Mike,” seated behind me.

Twenty-five f*cking minutes Dixon blabbered on. He has a unique way of making what should take five minutes last a lifetime, and I was too busy getting the squad together afterward to read Katie’s letter. If we were the first vehicle in the convoy and not the third, it’s likely we’d end up in the Euphrates River because no way my mind is focused enough to navigate. I can only think of Katie and the letter that’s currently burning a hole through my pocket.

A buzz over the radio headset draws my attention. “Hey, Sergeant, it looks like Adams’ trucks are falling back. Do you want me to have the lead vehicle slow down?” Navas asks.

“No, they’re okay. They know where we’re going. They’ll be covering for 101st at the southern end of the target area anyway. We’ve got the northern end, so they’ll be cutting out of here shortly.”