Redeployment(55)

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The next suicide was Rodriguez’s old squad leader, Sergeant Ditoro. He did it around the time Lieutenant Colonel Fehr was promoted and made a regimental commander. Not long after, Rodriguez showed up at the base chapel. I didn’t recognize him at first. He was pacing up and down the walkway to the chapel, and when I stepped outside to speak with him, he looked up, startled, looking lost and childlike. So different from before.

Haupert had already told me a little of Ditoro’s story. In the last month of the deployment, an IED had blown Ditoro’s arm off. Though he’d intended to be a career Marine, after a year in the Wounded Warrior Regiment he’d gotten out of the Corps and gone on to live in New Jersey for a few years. And then he’d shot himself, left-handed, in the head.

What I didn’t know was that he’d e-mailed Rodriguez a suicide note right before he did it. That night, on the walkway outside the chapel, Rodriguez was holding it, a well-creased printout of Ditoro’s last recorded words. When I walked up to him, he handed it to me without explanation, and I didn’t even read it at first.

“It’s Ramiro, right?” I said. “Ramiro Rodriguez. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

He shrugged. His face was softer, more resigned than I’d ever seen it. I could smell alcohol on him. “I don’t know if I did good or not,” Rodriguez said. He rubbed his face with his hands. “They say Ramadi’s quiet now. You can walk down the streets no problem.”

I nodded. “Violence dropped in that city like ninety-something percent,” I said. “That’s where the Awakening started.”

“You think we contributed to that?” he said. “You think what we did mattered?”

“Maybe. I’m not a tactics guy, I’m a chaplain.”

“We killed a lot of hajjis,” he said.

“Yes.”

We stood in silence for a while. He looked down at the e-mail in my hands and I scanned it quickly.

i keep remembering where i was when i lost my arm. i wanted to die very fast because i was in ramadi and ramadi was the miserablest part of the world and i was in so much pain. did you see alex saying they were killing civilian? his platoon was f*cked like ours but lets be honest that place was all war. remember that little kid planting ieds. i dont feel bad about shooting mosques and never will they were insurgent ratholes every f*cking one. i hit sammie pretty bad and she left and could have threw me in jail if she wanted. i feel bad about that but most I feel bad about fuji who you said was my fault and there youre right. i was his squad leader and i sent him up there i dont think anything i can do would make up for that even if i got killed rescuing someone plus theres what you said about bicycle man. remember him. remember what acosta did after levin. i believe in god i believe in hell. id like to tell fujis family that the guy who got his son killed is facing judgment and hes scared but happy. judgement isnt hanging over his head anymore and now hell get what he deserves and maybe even mercy. maybe you could tell them. you were a good saw gunner and you did right. im glad you were in my squad.



When I finished I looked up at Rodriguez. My hands were shaking. His weren’t.

“Do you blame yourself?” I said.

He looked out at the St. Francis Xavier Chapel, a small building ringed by trees.

“A bit,” he said. He looked at me sidelong. “I blame you a bit, too. For not doing anything. But I blame myself more.”

He rubbed his eyes.

“You didn’t want forgiveness when we were over there,” I said. “Do you want it now?”

“From you?”

I had to smile at that. “No,” I said. “That I’m worthless is well established. God’s forgiveness might be different.”

He scowled. I think I wanted him to confess as much for my good as for his. It didn’t really matter to me if he didn’t think he believed anymore. Belief can come through process.

I grabbed hold of the small cross on my collar. “You know this was a torture device, right?”

At that he laughed. I didn’t mind. I knew Rodriguez hadn’t come here just to laugh at me.

“Twenty centuries of Christianity,” I said. “You’d think we’d learn.” I fingered the small cross. “In this world, He only promises we don’t suffer alone.”

Rodriguez turned and spat into the grass. “Great,” he said.