of me hates me, too. Writing this letter forces me to acknowledge that, and when I look in the mirror, I know I’m looking at someone who isn’t sure she deserves to be loved at all. I mean that.
Even though you may not want to hear it, I want you to know that you’ll always be a part of me. In our time together, you claimed a special place in my heart, one I’ll carry with me forever and that no one can ever replace. You’re a hero and a gentleman, you’re kind and honest, but more than that, you’re the first man I ever truly loved. And no matter what the future brings, you always will be, and I know that my life is better for it.
I’m so sorry—
Savannah
PART III
Sixteen
She was in love with someone else.
I knew that even before I finished reading the letter, and all at once the world seemed to slow down. My first instinct was to ram my fist into a wall, but instead I crumpled up the letter and threw it aside. I was incredibly angry then; more than feeling betrayed, I felt as if she’d crushed everything that had any meaning in the world. I hated her, and I hated the nameless, faceless man who’d stolen her from me. I fantasized what I would do to him if he ever crossed my path, and the picture wasn’t pretty.
At the same time, I longed to talk to her. I wanted to fly home immediately, or at least call her. Part of me didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t believe it. Not now, not after everything we’d been through. We had only nine more months left—after almost three years, was that so impossible?
But I didn’t go home, and I didn’t call. I didn’t write her back, nor did I hear from her again. My only action was to retrieve the letter I’d crumpled. I straightened it as best I could, stuffed it back in the envelope, and decided to carry it with me like a wound I’d received in battle. Over the next few weeks, I became the consummate soldier, escaping into the only world that still seemed real to me. I volunteered for any mission regarded as dangerous, I barely spoke to anyone in my unit, and for a while it took everything I had not to be too quick with the trigger while out on patrol. I trusted no one in the cities, and although there were no unfortunate “incidents”—as the army likes to call civilian deaths—I’d be lying if I claimed to have been patient and understanding while dealing with Iraqis of any kind. Though I barely slept, my senses were heightened as we continued our spearhead to Baghdad. Ironically, only while risking my life did I find relief from Savannah’s image and the reality that our relationship had ended.
My life followed the shifting fortunes of the war. Less than a month after I received the letter, Baghdad fell, and despite a brief period of initial promise, things got worse and more complicated as the weeks and months wore on. In the end, I figured, this war was no different from any other. Wars always come back to the quest for power among the competing interests, but this understanding didn’t make life on the ground any easier. In the aftermath of Baghdad’s fall, every soldier in my squad was thrust into the roles of policeman and judge. As soldiers, we weren’t trained for that.
From the outside and with hindsight, it was easy to second-guess our activities, but in the real world, in real time, decisions weren’t always easy. More than once, I was approached by Iraqi civilians and told that a certain individual had stolen this or that item, or committed this or that crime, and was asked to do something about it. That wasn’t our job. We were there to keep some semblance of order—which basically meant killing insurgents who were trying to kill us or other civilians—until the locals could take over and handle it themselves. That particular process was neither quick nor easy, even in places where calm was more frequent than chaos. In the meantime, other cities were disintegrating into chaos, and we were sent in to restore order. We’d clear a city of insurgents, but because there weren’t enough troops to hold the city and keep it safe, the insurgents would occupy it again soon after we cleared out. There were days when all of my men