or anything, but I never gave a flying donkey’s butt what anyone thought.
That is, until I met Jo Marie.
Without ever meaning it to happen, I cared what she thought of me enough to risk my fool neck in order to be worthy of her. She’s the sole reason I’m buried deep inside of ISIS-held territory in Iraq just outside of Syria. We’re in heat so oppressive it sucks a man’s strength out of him like air out of a balloon. Every day the temperatures hover around 115 degrees, and that’s just past noon. If the blazing sun wasn’t uncomfortable enough, try adding layers of extra clothes to the mix. After nearly a year in Iraq I look more Iraqi than Hussein ever did.
My mission was to find my friend and former informant, Ibrahim, and bring him; his wife, Shatha; and their two children safely out of the country. I had help from the U.S. government getting into the country, but that came with obligations and responsibilities, a mission they needed me to accomplish while in the country. That mission should have been completed before now, and unfortunately hasn’t been. Locating Ibrahim, who was hiding with relatives in northern Iraq, was the difficult part, and once that was accomplished, getting out should have been easy. But then nothing ever goes according to plan, does it? Not in my life, anyway. For the last four months we’ve been surrounded by men who would like nothing better than to see us all dead. Admittedly, there’d been plenty of enemies who did their best to make that happen when I was stationed here with the army. Now that same territory is ISIS-held. I went into Iraq knowing it would be a miracle if I survived.
If not for Shatha’s medical skills I would be six feet under right now. Guess that’s what a bullet will do to a body. It’s taken me nearly three months to be strong enough to travel again, and so we’re back on the road, easing our way across the entire country toward the border of Saudi Arabia to meet up with our exit team.
When I first arrived in Iraq it took me weeks to get a line on Ibrahim. The two of us had worked together when American forces were stationed in the country. I spoke fluent Farsi and Arabic; Ibrahim was my informant. Overnight, without any indication this was about to happen, my unit was ordered to pack up and move out.
The abruptness of our new assignment shocked me. Within a matter of hours the entire complex was dismantled and we were gone, almost as if we’d never been in Iraq in the first place. I didn’t get the opportunity to square matters with Ibrahim. I couldn’t tell him I was leaving or help him in any way. As protocol, the army collected all weapons from our informants whenever they came on base, but when we were ordered out, their weapons weren’t returned. In other words, our abrupt departure left our informants completely vulnerable and defenseless. I tried to explain to my commanding officer that the consequences of leaving Ibrahim behind were in essence a death sentence, but he could do nothing. He had his orders and that was it. When I insisted we were as good as murdering these men who had become our friends, it didn’t make one iota of difference.
The experience soured me on the military. As soon as my time expired, I declined reenlistment. It might sound like a small thing, but in my family, in my life, this was huge. I was an army brat. I grew up in a family that had served our country from the time of the Second World War. My grandfather marched with Patton and my father was a Vietnam vet. They each earned medals for valor and honor.
In a fit of righteous anger and bitterness, I turned my back on what I had always assumed would be my future. If there was anything to be grateful for, it was the fact that my father wasn’t alive to witness what I’d done. Although the truth of it was he probably would have agreed with me.
At loose ends, I settled in Cedar Cove, and because I was good with my hands, I became a jack-of-all-trades. Thankfully, I didn’t need money. My parents were both gone and my father had invested wisely, and I’d inherited an amount that would last me my lifetime with careful planning. I didn’t need friends. My