The Maroon Beret

-Charlie-
I now understand what Sean must have felt when he got the phone call about my accident.

It’s been five days since I got the phone call from the Army that Drew was missing, and I’m finally starting to calm down. It seems that Drew and two of his squad members were sent on a scouting mission in the Japanese jungle that was supposed to last a week. They were working on a secret operation which meant that they couldn’t have any form of communication, even with their own base. As it turns out, they got caught in a freak lightening storm and their tracking device short-circuited. They had no clue there was something wrong with it and ended up trekking four days in the wrong direction before realizing their mistake. Once they figured it out, they had to hike the four days back to where they had been to send out a distress call. So the return to base that should have taken them three days ended up taking eight.

I talked to Drew last night when he called to let me know he was okay, and I practically started crying hysterically. I felt bad that Sean’s parents were stuck alone with me in that situation, since he was in New York to play the Islanders. But neither of them seemed to mind. Sylvain told me that he understood how relieved I was, since that was the same reaction that Sean had when he heard that I was okay.

I’m honestly so relieved that they have both accepted me so quickly into their lives. They both joke regularly that since Sean is their only child, they always said whoever he ended up marrying would be like a daughter to them. I truly appreciate that, since I don’t have parents of my own anymore. I’ve even taken to calling Sean’s mother ‘mom’ since Anne certainly wasn’t it for me. His dad, however, I continue to call by his name since I had such a fantastic relationship with mine. It just wouldn’t seem right to me to call anyone else by that title.

Sean is expected to come home this afternoon, and we have an appointment with my gynecologist to see what the extent of the damage is to my body. I’m so nervous, I’m pretty sure both of his parents suspect something. We told them that I have a doctor’s appointment that we both have to attend, but didn’t tell them what it was for. We let them think it has something to do with my leg, so they wouldn’t ask too many questions.

I’ve actually been opening up to Sylvain a lot more than I expected to, and talking to him about what this experience has been like so far. I’ve even come close to telling him about my nightmares, but I know the first person I come clean to will have to be Sean. After moving a decent amount of our stuff from the apartment all morning, I’m completely exhausted and announce that I’m going to take a nap. They both say that’s fine, and settle down on the couch to watch some tv. I make sure to text Sean and tell him what’s going on, and he says he’ll wake me up when he gets home so we can go to the appointment. Pulling off my leg, I crawl into bed and close my eyes, quickly drifting off to sleep.
----------------
I’m standing in the middle of the Kandahar desert, wearing my Air Force uniform. It’s sweltering hot, and I don’t have any water with me. I don’t have anything with me at all. I quickly inspect myself, finding no scars on my arms at all. I lift my left leg hesitantly, and see that it’s not my prosthetic. It’s real.

Suddenly a voice cries out to my left, and I look over. About fifty or sixty yards away I see a man laying on the hot sand, holding his knee. Even from the far distance I can see the dark maroon color of blood. He’s wearing an Air Force uniform exactly like mine. He’s American.

I start running towards him as fast as I can. He needs my help. It’s my job to help him. I close the distance quickly and as I’m about ten yards away, I realize that I recognize the man. It’s Chris. He’s screaming out in pain and I can see his leg is badly mangled. He has shards of shrapnel sticking out of his skin all over his arms and legs, the biggest one in his left knee. His right shoulder is dislocated. His right arm and wrist are clearly broken. His right knee is bent at a weird angle, and I can tell that it and his right ankle are both broken as well. But the biggest problem is definitely the dinner plate-sized piece of shrapnel sticking out of his left knee.

He cries out again, and I try to yell to him, to tell him that I’m coming for him. But nothing comes out of my mouth.

Just as I reach his side something hits my back, causing me to turn around. There’s another man standing about thirty yards from us. His head is down, but I can see that he’s dressed in the traditional robes of the Taliban. I turn back to look at Chris, but suddenly he’s fifty yards from me again.

At the sound of his agonizing scream, I take off running towards Chris. Again, I close the distance quickly and again, just as I reach his side I’m hit in the back with something. I turn once more to see the Taliban man, but this time I can see his face.

It’s him.

The same man who appears in every nightmare I’ve had since the accident. The same man who’s face randomly pops into my head at any hour of the day. The same man who is responsible for ruining my plan in life.

It’s the suicide bomber who almost killed me.

His black beady eyes stare right into my soul. He gives me a small toothless smile and opens his robe, showing me the bomb strapped to his chest. I freeze. He points to my left, and I look. Fifty yards away is Chris. I look back at the man and he points to my right. I look, and equally far away I see five children. Not just any five children, though. Even though I can’t make out their faces clearly from this distance, I know they’re the five children who died my first deployment to Afghanistan. The five children I wasn’t good enough to save.

The Taliban man doesn’t say anything, but his intention is clear. I have to pick one. Save the American man who so quickly became my best friend, like another older brother to me. The man who saved my life when I was in the exact same position as he is right now. Or save the five innocent Afghani children who’s lives have already been lost under my care once. The ones who suffered while I sat back and watched as the life left their bodies, unable to do anything about it.

My heart is pounding and the Taliban man motions that time is running out. I’m frantically looking from side to side, trying to decide what to do. Who do I save? He motions that I have ten seconds left to make my decision. My breathing is quick and shallow, my palms are sweating, and all I can hear is the rush of the blood in my brain.

Through my clouded brain, I suddenly hear Chris’s voice loud and clear.

“These things we do, That others may live.”

I know what my decision has to be. I turn to my right and take a step to run, but I’m too late. The Taliban man’s bomb goes off and I’m flying through the air. My right side hits a wall and I let out a frantic scream. Someone is shaking me, and I can feel that it’s the Taliban man. I keep my eyes closed in fear of him. He wants to show me what he’s done. He wants to show me what I’ve failed to do. Who I’ve failed to save. He keeps shaking me and shaking me and I let out another scream.

My eyes fly open and they find the golden brown orbs that I’ve come to love so deeply. But they’re filled with fear and pain. I realize it wasn’t the Taliban man who was shaking me. It was Sean. A quick scan of my surroundings and I find that I’m not in the Kandahar desert. I’m in New Jersey. In my brand new house, in my bed. With my fiancee. It was all a dream.

“Baby, it’s okay.” Sean says, wrapping his arms around me. I realize my whole body is shaking and I can’t control the streams of tears running down my face. I lay my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat racing, letting the tears flow. “Charlie, you’re safe with me. It was just a dream, baby. I promise I’m never going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe, Charlie.” He keeps babbling, and I don’t even care what he’s saying, because all that matters is that his voice is soothing to my ears.

Eventually the tears slow, and my heart rate and breathing return to normal.
“It felt so real.” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
“It wasn’t, Charlie. It wasn’t.” He assures me.
“It could have been.” I croak.
“But it wasn’t. It was just a dream.”
“I failed.” I sob.

I know he has no idea what I’m talking about, but Sean continues to reassure me that it was just a dream. And I realize he’s right. I stop saying anything and let myself get lost in his muscles, his fingertips slowly drawing circles on my back. I lay there for a while letting him hold me, listening to his strong heartbeat. Finally a realization dawns on me.

“Oh God, your parents.” I say, blushing. “They think I’m crazy.”
“They’re not here.” He says. “They left a little while ago. Before you started screaming.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Charlie, I don’t want to push you...” Sean begins. “But I want to know what just happened.”
“I-I can’t. You’ll judge me.” I whisper. He pulls back and searches my face.
“I will never judge you, baby.” He says, staring into my eyes.

I debate it for a minute before realizing that he’s telling the truth. I take a deep breath and start from the beginning...

“I was standing in the middle of the Kandahar desert, wearing my Air Force uniform. It was sweltering hot, and I didn’t have any water with me. I didn’t have anything with me at all. I quickly inspected myself, finding no scars on my arms at all. I lifted my left leg hesitantly, and saw that it was not my prosthetic. It was real...”