Forward, And Sideways, Too

Trigger Warning: War.

Dear Casey,

White and gray, this winter day, I’m beggin the sun to come out to play. Should I take up poetry? Okay, not one of my strengths. BUT, I have sewn enough scarves to stock my (ever stagnant) Etsy shop and also provide warmth for a third world country. Which is why I sent a whole box of them to a village in Afghanistan! I would have sent them to you and the guys, but I figured you wouldn’t appreciate the lovely shades of rose, violet, and turquoise. I read about their cold snap in 2019 and how they didn’t have winter clothes to protect them, so I just did it on a whim.

Um, I miss you… so bad it hurts. I’m just trying to get to the end of each day. What was my advice to you two months ago, keep pushing forward? Yeah. Feeling like a hypocrite cuz it’s struggle city in Minot. I miss my better half; this half is wilting like the lettuce on a Big Mac. Ha! That’s so gross. Anyway, I promise I’ll shower before you come home.

I love you. Wish you were here.

Love,

Sarah

She groaned and collapsed onto her desk, forehead on folded arms. “Lame. That was the lamest email in the history of emails.”

Alfie mewed in question and wound his way between her legs, his orange tail wrapping around each calf. He turned and went back to complete the figure-eight.

“Hey, Alfie.” Sarah’s voice wobbled as she spoke to her cat. “Tell me to get up and have a dance party.”

He purred and rubbed his face against the limp hand she dropped by the side of the chair.

“Tell me to grab my ice skates and go outside.”

Alfie sat down and watched her, waiting for some action.

“Tell me to get back in bed. Yeah? We can snuggle.”

Suddenly, his claws dug into her thigh.

“Ouch!” Sarah jumped and smashed her knees on the underside of the desk. She sat up straight, fully alert now, and looked down at her throbbing leg. Three drops of blood seeped through her light gray leggings.

Alfie looked innocently up at her, his head tilted to the side.

“You’re right, I needed that. And fine, I’ll take a shower. I know you don’t like sweaty snuggles.” 

***

Hey Sarah,

Bad news over here. One of our F-16s crashed in the mountains near Kabul yesterday. The pilot didn’t eject… I didn’t know him personally, but we’re all feeling the loss right now. There’s no time to process, though, since this adds more to our work load. I’m the maintenance mishap investigation SME, Subject Matter Expert, so I’ll be leading the investigation. We’re about to head out to the crash site now. Not looking forward to it. Just wanted to tell you the news.

Forever yours,

Casey

“You ready, Lieutenant?” Captain Hewett, the helicopter pilot, strode into Casey’s office and patted him on the back.

“Yep, let’s get this show on the road,” Casey said, grabbing his helmet and bag of gear.

Three other men joined them as they marched across the flight line to the UH-60 Black Hawk that sat prepped for takeoff. Casey hardly knew Sergeant Miller, but Jeff and Ethan were his close friends. The banter and jokes they usually shot off like fireworks had been abandoned on this somber occasion. The death sat heavy on all of them, and they were about to see the carnage up close.

“UH-60, you are clear for takeoff,” the control tower radioed through a mere five minutes after they boarded the helicopter, a testament to their efficiency. The blades of the helicopter beat the air with a deafening metallic roar that vibrated deep into Casey’s bones, and he gritted his teeth as the aircraft swayed to the side as it lifted off the tarmac.

Not only was Casey not keen on flying, he had also never ridden in a helicopter. When he subconsciously touched his seatbelt buckle for the third time, he felt eyes on him. His head whipped up, and he caught Sergeant Miller watching him. They made eye contact, and Sergeant Miller winked. Casey broke out in a cold sweat.        

The tension onboard grew thick as time passed and they drew closer to the crash site. Casey bounced his knees and thought about the countless hours he had spent playing with toy Apache helicopters with his brother. They loved to make the helicopters spin out of control and crash land in the thick, green grass. Everyone survived of course, often with the help of Superman or Stretch Armstrong. Casey wondered how many army green soldiers were abandoned in the yard only to be chopped up by the lawn mower later.

“Good news, boys. We’re ten minutes out from the crash site,” Captain Hewett said through their headphones.

The helicopter jolted sideways, and the limbs of the unsuspecting men flopped like ragdolls. Sirens instantly shrilled in the cockpit. Red lights flashed. Smoke billowed into the cabin, and they never saw the mountain that delivered the final punch.   

***

Sarah glided across the ice, determined to get some exercise before the next winter storm rolled in. Skating had turned out to be much harder than she ever expected, requiring extreme muscle strength in her ankles and legs as well as her lower back. She no longer got sore like she did at first, but each new technique seemed to require more muscle coordination. She liked the challenge.

Today she moved her feet side to side, looked over her shoulder, and slowly moved backward across the ice. She repeated the motion until she got more comfortable with it, then picked up speed. To swap to forward skating, she rotated her feet and hopped, but the toe of her blade dug into the ice. Sarah sprawled out sideways and landed on her shoulder, sliding a few feet before coming to a stop on the unforgiving ice.

She moaned and rolled onto her back. The clouds above rushed east toward Casey, and she wondered if they would at some point hang over his head as well. A deep chill began to soak into her body as she lay on the ice; her chest squeezed tight, and breathing became more difficult. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones.

A small, round face peered down at her. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah whispered.

“You should wipe the tears off your face before they freeze,” the boy suggested.

She hadn’t realized she was crying. She followed his instruction, then accepted his hand for help off the ice.

“It’s time to go in. The snow’s about to start,” her wise, little neighbor said.

“Thanks, Michael.” Sarah skated to the edge and swapped out her boots, aware of how helpless she seemed. She was taking advice from a seven year old now, and she’d been leaning heavily on a cat for moral support. What she really needed was a female, human friend, preferably adult, but those had proven too elusive to catch.

She headed straight to the computer when she got inside and discovered Casey’s message about the crash investigation, sent ten hours ago.

“He should be back by now,” she said out loud. She quickly typed an email:

Hey,

How did the mission go? I love you!

Sarah

The more time passed, the more often she checked her email for a response. Surely there would be an email now. She paced around the house in her slippers. Or now. She rolled the couch and all the soft surfaces in the house with a lint roller until she filled every sticky square with orange fur. OR NOW!

By the time darkness fell, Sarah felt completely distraught. She climbed into bed without eating dinner or brushing her teeth. Alfie curled up against her side, and she cried herself to sleep.

***

A salmon hued haze peeked over the horizon and slowly peeled the indigo blanket off the earth. Casey’s eyes cracked open as well. The blaze of color reminded him of the helicopter being consumed by fire. He squeezed his eyes shut to extinguish the horrifying images of his fallen brothers, but it didn't work.

Captain Hewett, smashed by metal and rock. Sergeant Miller, hopelessly trapped and engulfed in flames. The other three, screaming and scrambling out of the wreckage. Machine gunfire peppering the rocks all around them. Casey, Jeff, and Ethan had run for their lives.

Casey pushed away the memories and forced himself to look at the Afghanistan sunrise. Under different circumstances, it would have been breathtaking, but this morning, the main things stealing his breath were the cracked rib in his side and the rock piercing his temple. When he rested his head on it eight hours before, exhausted and desperate, it had felt like a little piece of heaven. Now it felt like torture.

Casey struggled to sit up, his body leaden and numb from the cold. He had slept wedged in between Jeff and Ethan in a deep crevice in the cliff, the best form of shelter they were able to find. Casey nudged his comrades to wake them, thankful he wasn’t out here alone. He strained his eyes in the low lighting to survey the valley and the nearby mountainsides for human activity.

Jeff groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “See anything?” he mumbled.

“No. Just a lot of rocks.”

Ethan rubbed his eyes and stretched. “We need to find water.”

“You sound like you swallowed gravel,” Casey said with a frown.

“I think I ate my pillow in my sleep.”

The men climbed out of their rocky refuge and continued on the treacherous mountain journey back to the base. They slowly picked their way over the rocks, sore from the crash and two nights in the chilly air, but despite a few possible fractures and minor burns, the three of them had made it out mostly unscathed. Blessed. Lucky. Unbreakable. Whatever you wanted to call it, they pressed on, determined to defy the odds.

***

The tomato soup (canned, of course) bubbled in the pot while Sarah pressed the spatula down on the grilled cheese. Her stomach growled so loudly she worried Alfie might take offense and hide under the bed. Soft piano music played in the background to help calm her nerves, and it took her a good fifteen seconds to realize her phone was chiming in with the notes. She dropped the spatula and bolted across the kitchen. A local number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Nelson?”

“Yes.”

“This is Major Radcliff from the 5^th Bomb Wing. Will you verify your full name and date of birth?”

“Sarah Jane Nelson, 11-30-97.”

“Thank you. Sarah, I’m calling today with some tough news. Your husband was on a helicopter that crashed two days ago in Afghanistan. Two bodies have been recovered, but your husband, Captain Browning, and Lieutenant Lee have not been found. We are doing our best to locate them and bring them home safely.”

“Thank you,” robot Sarah said.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we get an update on the situation. God bless.”

Sarah stood at the window staring at the gray world until the fire alarm went off. She turned off the stove, tossed the melted spatula in the trash, and stood on a chair to silence the alarm. Then she flopped on the couch.

No tears came. She was probably dehydrated. Alfie eventually crept out from his bedroom hideaway and methodically patrolled each room for danger. Sarah’s head throbbed from the noxious smell of burnt plastic permeating the house. She pictured her knitting needles prodding her brain, trying to weave it into something pretty, but only stirring up a pot of gray mush. 

“My life is poisoned,” she said to Alfie as he jumped on the couch. He curled up between her legs, and they drifted off to sleep together.

A knock woke her up sometime later. Today? Tomorrow? Sarah stumbled to the door and opened it, blinking off the sunlight like an old drunk.

“Sarah?” a hoarse voice asked.

Sarah’s eyes began to adjust, and a young woman with dark circles under her eyes came into focus.

“I’m Elizabeth Browning. We’ve met once.”

“Okay.” Sarah blinked a few more times.

“I’m Jeff’s wife.” Then she covered her mouth and sobbed violently, right there on the doorstep.

Sarah’s heart began to beat again. She pulled Elizabeth into the foyer and slammed the door on the frosty air. Then they clung to each other in a desperate embrace, welded together as wives of the MIA. Sarah’s tears returned, streaming down her face in little rivers that flowed into Elizabeth’s dark hair. They cried like that until their legs grew weak, and they collapsed onto the couch deflated, but cleansed.

After obsessing over the details of their husbands’ last documented days and crying again over the possibilities, the women finally sat in numb silence.

“Your house smells like burned plastic,” Elizabeth said.

“I was hoping it would put me out of my misery.”

Elizabeth stood. “Come on. Let’s make some food.”

Elizabeth made herself at home in the kitchen, turning on the fan over the stove and cracking the window to help the fumes escape. She explored the pantry, grabbing an assortment of items, and began to cook. Sarah watched in awe- it was evident she knew what she was doing in the kitchen. Before long, she had a solid meal on the table for both of them.

Sarah smiled weakly. “Wow. This is amazing. I haven’t eaten in at least thirty hours.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll cook for you every night if you let me stay with you.”

Sarah looked up at her in surprise. She swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill over again. “Yes, thank you. I-I’ll teach you how to knit.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. Sarah joined her, and although it felt like a fingernail on a cheese grater, it seemed like it might be worth the discomfort.

***

After eight days of weaving through canyons and scrambling over slippery slopes, the three men were exhausted and starving. They ate oninon grass and kept hydrated from little snow melt streams that ran down the mountainside. Casey prayed constantly as he walked, his chapped lips moving soundlessly. He prayed for food, for the weather to stay mild, for a rescue, for Sarah back home. But mainly he repeated, “Be with me, God.”

They stumbled along more and more slowly as time passed without seeing a soul. An airplane buzzed past.

“Did anyone else hear that?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah, but I thought I was imagining it.” Ethan crumpled to the dirt, his baggy uniform bunching up in excessive folds around his shrinking frame.  

Casey looked up the mountain and grimaced. “It was on the other side of the ridge. Should we climb to that side?” 

Jeff reached out and grabbed a hand from each of them. They all knew the climb might sap their remaining energy. He squeezed faintly. “We can do it. We’re stronger together.”

Step by step, they trudged to the top, delirious from hunger and the repetition of their plodding feet. Each step sent vibrations up the whole length of Casey’s body, threatening to split him into a thousand little shards of freeze dried flesh.

Miraculously, they crested the ridge. No longer in the mood for pretty views, they immediately started the descent without looking around. Then, they heard the airplane again.

It was on the side they just came from.

***

Dear Casey,

Jeff’s wife Elizabeth moved in with me. I’m teaching her how to knit, and she’s giving me cooking tips. You know I need them! We’ve gotten into a comfortable routine: She goes to work at the base library each morning, a part time job, and I spend the next few hours praying for you, Jeff, and Ethan. She comes home for lunch, and then we spend the day watching movies and doing random stuff. I’m so glad I don’t have to walk through this alone.

On the day Elizabeth showed up and rescued me, I threw a bunch of pillows and a blanket in the empty walk-in closet in our guest room and turned it into a little prayer room. I light candles and drink a pot of coffee while Alfie watches me pour my heart out.

I keep going back to Psalm 139:7-12, 18b in my Bible for comfort:

“Where can I go from your Spirit?

    Where can I flee from your presence?

 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

    if I settle on the far side of the sea,

 even there your hand will guide me,

    your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me

    and the light become night around me,’

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

    the night will shine like the day,

    for darkness is as light to you.

...when I awake, I am still with you.”

I know in my heart that wherever you are, God is with you. Don’t give up, babe. Keep pushing forward. I love you, and I’m waiting here for you.

Forever yours,

Sarah 

**This is the second installment in the Forward Series.**