Eddie Baker's Desperate Journey

Eddie Baker was in big trouble as he made his way past a farmyard in the darkness of a crescent moon.  He had been separated from his unit during the firefight with a group of goat herders who turned out to be al Qaeda operatives.  Now he was all alone as his unit had abandoned the area at sunset. 

Private Baker had been in Afghanistan for five months.  Originally from Brooklyn, Eddie was accustomed to wandering in and out of  dark places without any trepidation, but this was different. 

His field commander, Lieutenant Ogglebee, like most inexperienced junior officers, made mistakes and miscalculations about the enemy positions which cost the platoon lives, as it had this afternoon. Choosing an untenable position inside an abandoned warehouse, it did not take long before he ordered them to withdraw.   

Eddie learned quickly to stay close to Gunnery Sergeant Tipman who was close to retirement after thirty years of ground pounding.  It was a lesson that perhaps saved his life this afternoon when the shit got heavy.  Gunny Tipman said he was leaving as soon as a couple rockets blew the ceiling off of the warehouse. 

Now, as he walked the rocky road, the dark began swallowing up the whole world.  He knew if he kept heading south eventually he would find his base.  All he could think about was climbing into his rack and putting an end to this nightmare of a day.   

He froze when he heard voices.  He did not understand Uzbek. He hoped it was not the insurgents who he heard, but he was confused by the darkness and he wasn’t going to take any unnecessary chances.  Ducking behind a short wall, he noticed the air still smelled of the firefight earlier in the day as the harsh sulfuric and metallic odor hung heavy in the cool night air.  

Deciding he’d better keep moving, Eddie got to his feet, but as he came around one of the buildings, he stopped dead in his tracks.  He saw several armed insurgents with their AK-47s pointed at Corporal Hammond.  

Stephen Hammond had gone to a special army training school to learn the Uzbek language before being sent to his current tour of duty in Afghanistan.  His special training had come in handy, making him one of the most valuable members of the unit. Using his natural charm and a couple of candy bars tucked into his cargo pockets, he would bribe the young spotters who were keeping watch on American troop movements through town and reporting this to the insurgents. 

He was using his ability to negotiate with the armed insurgents and from his safe viewing position, it seemed to Eddie, Hammond was being successful until two of the insurgents opened fire on Hammond, killing him instantly. 

Using the barrels of their weapons, the murdering insurgents poked Hammond's body to make sure he was dead, from his vantage point, Eddie knew his buddy was A goner. Tears flooded Eddie's eyes.  His comrade had been killed as he watched helplessly.

During the firefight, Eddie's had been separated from his rifle which broke one of the cardinal rules of combat.  Except for his bayonet attached to his utility belt at his side, Eddie had nothing to defend himself with if the insurgents were to take him prisoner as they had Corporeal Hammonds. 

His tears were a combination of grief, helplessness, and anger. He watched as the five insurgents walked away.  One of them took Hammond's rifle, kicking his lifeless body as he was leaving with the others.

"What am I supposed to do now?" He fell to his knees, whispering ingeminate over and over as he wiped his tears with the sleeve of his desert camouflage fatigues. 

"Aunt Emma, pray for me." He closed his eyes.  

Aunt Emma was his mother's younger sister who raised him after his mother and father split up when he was a toddler.  So distraught over her divorce and the prospect of being a single parent, his mother, Mae Anne, overdosed one night on her antidepressant medication with a bottle of bourbon.  He found her body the next morning on the couch with the television still turned on. Emma did not wish to see her nephew turned over to the state, so she took him in, legally adopting him before he started school. She insisted he address her as Aunt Emma, but she turned out to be a good guardian, making sure he grew up the way her older sister wanted Eddie to.  

Eddie was a good kid until he got busted with a bag of pot after high school graduation.  Aunt Emma pleaded on his behalf at the hearing to have him sent to rehabilitation in lieu of jail time.  After serving his time at St. Thomas Center for Substance Abuse, he enlisted in the army rather than face unending temptation in his old neighborhood.  With the war in Afghanistan, Eddie found himself assigned to a tactical unit in Kabul.  

"This place is the shit." He was fond of griping as he was on patrol four or five days a week.  Complaining, he was told, was his only right and recourse as a ground-pounder. 

As the sun set in a blaze of fiery red, Lt. Ogglebee marched them into an ambush. Caught in a deadly crossfire, Charley Company had three casualties before the lieutenant ordered them into an abandoned building just outside the city limits.  Cursing as the ceaseless rocket fire damaged the building they were held up in, Eddie carelessly left his rifle behind as he followed Gunny Tipman out of the building.

Now three hours later, in the darkness of the night when everyone and everything had become nothing but Indistinguishable shadows, Eddie felt he had become a prisoner, too, but he was being held hostage by the darkness.      

The enemy used the darkness as camouflage and since he had only a bayonet for protection, Eddie felt vulnerable as a newborn baby.

He hadn't gone very far when he saw someone staring at him from behind a short stone wall. Immediately, Eddie stopped moving, certain one of the insurgents had doubled back. 

As the shadow drew closer, Eddie could see it was just a boy of around ten years old with dark eyes sunken into the sockets wearing a perthan tunban that hung loosely on his skeletal frame.  He put his hands into the air, declaring, "QurolingIzdan otmang!"

Don't shoot in Uzbek. Eddie had been on enough patrols to know what the boy was saying, but without his rifle, he couldn't shoot the boy even if he wanted to.  Eddie shook his head hoping the youngster would understand that Eddie had no intention of harming the boy. It did make him wonder how many GIs had threatened the boy with harm in their passing.     

Eddie put his hands in the air to show the boy he had no weapon.

“Omigolt” The boy smiled.

Eddie drew a circle with his index finger and shrugged to sign that he was lost.  He hoped the boy would understand.

“Ha.” The boy nodded as he pointed south.   Eddie stood there for a moment. The boy said some other things under his breath as he took Eddie’s hand.  As the boy touched his hand, Eddie jumped a bit, startled by the touch, but with a wide smile, Eddie realized the boy did not mean him any harm. With a tug of his hand, Eddie, guided by the boy, began to follow the boy.

“Mening  ismin, Munisa.” He grinned as they walked in the darkness.  In the distance, Eddie could see the lights of Kabul.  

“Munisa?” Eddie repeated.

“Ha.” The boy nodded. 

“Munisa, it is, then.” Eddie smiled and nodded at Munisa.

Walking next to the Munisa, Eddie stumbled over the rocky ground as the boy remained sure-footed.  He could barely see the landscape in crescent moonlight.  He wondered if the boy knew that insurgents would plant IEDs in the rocky ground. Out in the open, Eddie could feel the cool air rise up to meet them as they moved cautiously. With no trees or shrubberies in the immediate area, both of them were exposed as they moved.  

With each step, Eddie feared their journey could come to an abrupt ending if the insurgents were still in the area. He was at the mercy of elements and this small boy who he hoped was moving toward his station.  He heard a few birds flutter overhead as they moved through down into the valley.  The lights of the city began to get brighter which could further expose the pair as they moved closer to the city.

Eddie was startled again when Munisa tugged on his hand, with a harsh whisper, “Yong’in.” 

There was a rifle crack.  The bullet whistled over Eddie’s head.  Now he understood as he fell to his stomach lying next to Munisa on the cold ground.  There was more rifle fire, but the bullets did not come close to them. Munisa held Eddie’s arm and shook his head.  Eddie knew it was not safe to continue walking in the open area.  

Eddie closed his eyes.  He wished he was back home.  He opened his eyes and looked at Munisa lying next to him.  This was his home.  He wondered what it was like hearing rifle fire every day.  He could not imagine the horror that this boy had lived through.  

More bullets zipped overhead. 

How he wished he had his rifle if just for the satisfaction of being able to answer back. 

From the inky black skies, a helicopter appeared.  Flashing a spotlight appeared, illuminating the area where the rifle fire was coming from.  

Waving his arm forward, Munisa grabbed Eddie’s arm.  Coming to his feet, Eddie followed his guide as they continued on their journey across the open area.  The insurgents had disbanded when the spotlight appeared.  As soon as Munisa started to run, Eddie was right behind him.  

“Yugurmoq!” Munisa kept yelling over his shoulder.

Eddie tripped on a rock and ripped open his knee.  Blood soaked the ripped  material around the wound.  The boy signaled for Eddie to ignore it and keep running, but the blood was flowing freely from his knee.  He began to feel a bit queasy, but Munisa kept yelling “Yugurmoq!”

“Alright, alright!” Eddie found his way to his feet.  His head was pounding and his stomach was protesting as he followed the boy into the darkness. “I wish that helicopter would land somewhere near here.” 

He said it so Munisa would not hear him gripe, even though he would not  understand his complaint.  He knew that the boy would understand that he was complaining.  After an exhausting dash across the open field with a wounded knee, Eddie leaned against the closest building as Munisa ran in the door.

“Wait!” Eddie yelled, but Munisa appeared and waved him inside.

“This is him?” A bearded man asked when Eddie appeared in the door.  Munisa nodded. “Hello, I am his uncle, Shamir.”

“You speak English?” Eddie was pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah.” He nodded, “I reclaim some of the damaged vehicles the American soldiers bring me.”

“I see.” Eddie sat in a wooden chair next to the counter where Shamir was standing.

“Looks like you have quite a wound there.” He pointed to the open wound on Eddie’s knee.

“Yeah, tripped running here.” He admitted. 

“My nephew keeps bringing me GIs who get caught out there.”  He handed Eddie a towel, “He’s known as Khyber Savior. At least once a week, Munisa brings me an American who has been lost out there.”

“He doesn’t speak English though.” Eddie wiped his wounded knee with the towel Shamir had given him. 

He laughed, “Did you need him to?”

“Not really.” Eddie nodded. 

“Okay, thank Allah or Jesus or whoever you thank that he saved you.” He opened the carburetor he was working on. “Where is your rifle?” 

“I lost it during the shootout.” Eddie hung his head.

“I thought that was a court martial offense.” Shamir laughed as he looked inside the mechanism. “This came from a vehicle that ran over an IED last night.  Only one crew member survived.  Shame.” 

Eddie Baker sat there hanging his head thinking about how for the grace of God, he was sitting here now with Munisa’s uncle, safe from the insurgents who had tried to kill him.   Shamir began talking to his nephew in Uzbekistan.  Both of them became very animated as  they spoke, but Eddie could not understand a single word either of them were saying.  He felt totally excluded from their conversation.  Never again would Eddie have that sense of superiority speaking a language he grew up speaking since he started school.  He glanced over at Munisa who had saved his life out there and was in awe of his savvy and cool he displayed when they were under fire. 

“My nephew tells me you are a brave man.” Shamir nodded.

“He saved my life.” Eddie declared.

“I know of his courage.  It is legendary in Kabul.” He chuckled, “I run this shop, but he risks his life almost every day. You must make sure to thank him.” 

“How do I do that?” Eddie asked.

“Rahmat.” Shamir raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“I will be sure to do that.” Eddie nodded. He walked over to where Munisa was looking at the vehicle parts his uncle had placed on the wooden shelves in the storage of the makeshift garage. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, looked him in the eye and said, “Rahmat.” 

A wide smile broke over the boy’s face, “Salomat bo’ling.” 

No translation was needed, Eddie knew what Munisa had told him.

“I will call a taxi to take you to the American base.” Shamir picked up his black phone and dialed.

“Rahmat.” Eddie smiled.

“You stay here long enough, we will have you speaking Uzbekistan.” Shamir laughed.  He spoke Uzbekistan to the receiver. “He will be here in a few minutes.” 

“I am ready.” Eddie nodded. 

Eddie sat there until the taxi showed up in front of the building.  He felt better after resting his knee.  He hugged Munisa whispering, “Rahmat.” before walking to the waiting cab. He waved to Shamir who waved back as Eddie turned to leave. 

“Private Baker.” Gunny Tipman greeted Eddie when he got out of the cab. “We had you classified as MIA.  I’m glad I do not have to make that report to your aunt back home. She would be so distraught.” 

“Me too.” He shook his sergeant’s hand.

“Quite a wound you got on your knee there.” He pointed.

“Yeah, but I am alive thanks to a kid.” He sighed.

“Oh the savior of the Khyber Pass?” 

“That’s what his uncle called him.” Eddie explained. 

“Yeah.” He acknowledged. “That is who he is. Go on now to the infirmary and get that knee checked out.” 

“Sure thing, sarge.” He nodded as he began to walk toward the infirmary.