Page 4 of Salute, To Bravery
Tomorrow will bring its own challenges. More orders and maybe another mission. But for now, in the quiet of the night, I’m left with the understanding that the path I have chosen is both a tribute and a trial.
Jamie’s memory is a beacon that guides me. His dreams are now intertwined with my own, even if mine were once vastly different. As I close my eyes, I can almost hear his laughter and see his impish grin urging me on, urging me to stand without fear.
The next morning, I head to the makeshift interrogation room. It’s a small, spartan tent equipped with the essentials—a table, two chairs, and a dim light hanging overhead. I’m sure it’s been designed in a laboratory somewhere to be the most effective ambience for obtaining information.
Today’s task is nothing new. It’s the same as all the other days when I’ve interrogated prisoners before they’re transferred to Headquarters. But the responsibility of it feels different this time. I’m about to interview Rehan Haddad, the calm, eagle-eyed soldier who’s piqued my curiosity since his capture. From teacher to soldier seems such a vast difference. This is war, so it’s entirely possible, but I can’t quite get my head around it.
I enter the tent, and Rehan is already seated, his hands cuffed in front of him. He looks up as I walk in, his expression remaining composed. He’s giving nothing away, but I’ve learned already that he never does. I nod to the guard by the door, a silent signal to give us privacy. The flap falls closed behind him with a soft thud as he leaves.
I take a seat opposite Haddad. Setting down my files on the table between us, I turn on the recording equipment, so nothing can be denied later, and repeating the well practiced phrase, I identify myself.
“As I informed you yesterday, I am Captain Harper Riley. I’ll be conducting your interrogation.”
“I gathered as much,” Rehan replies, his voice calm.
His English is impeccable for someone who is a non-native speaker. There’s only a trace of an accent in his words. I can’t help but wonder where he learned to speak my language so fluently.
I pull out his file, flipping it open to review the notes that have been made about him so far.
“You’ve been cooperative,” I observe, looking up at him. “Why the compliance? Most captured soldiers aren’t so… accommodating.”
Rehan’s shrugs his shoulders. “Perhaps I don’t see the point in exposing myself to unnecessary suffering. We both know how these situations can play out.”
I study him for a moment. He makes me more curious than wary. “You were a teacher before the war. History, was it?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” he nods. “As I mentioned yesterday, I believe understanding the past can help us navigate the present and the future.”
“What exactly from the past are you using to navigate your current situation?” I ask, leaning forward slightly, intrigued despite myself.
Rehan’s gaze meets mine, steady and unwavering. “History is filled with moments of tension and conflict but also with dialogue and understanding. Even enemies have found common ground when the conditions were right.”
I pause, absorbing his words. They’re insightful, and they echo a sentiment that’s rarely heard in the stark divides of war. “Are you suggesting that we can find common ground, Mr. Haddad?”
With a slight tilt of his head, his response is immediate. “It would be beneficial for both sides, wouldn’t it? To understand rather than to simply conquer and destroy.”
The conversation is veering into territory that’s unconventional for an interrogation. It’s my job to gather intelligence, to probe for weaknesses, and yet here we are, discussing philosophy and history, and I’m actually enjoying it.
Philosophy was my favorite subject at school. I excelled at it, but when I joined the army, all that was forgotten to be replaced with duty, honor, and obedience.
I hesitate, wanting to hear more, but decide to steer the conversation back to more pressing matters.
“Let’s focus on the present, Mr. Haddad. I want to know more about the unit you were captured with—what can you tell me about your operations? Your numbers and positions?”
Haddad shifts in his seat, but his cuffed hands remain relaxed, resting on the table between us. “I’m not part of that unit. I don’t know their plans any more than you do. I have my own set of orders.”
I nod, acknowledging his admission. “What are your orders?”
He regards me quietly for a moment. “Captain Riley, I am reluctant to give you any information that may compromise mymission. I can tell you that I protect those I care about, and my end goal is to help bring about an end to this conflict. Perhaps we are not so different in what we want to achieve. The difference is in our methods.”
This acknowledgment of our shared humanity strikes a chord. It’s a brief glimpse into the man behind the prisoner, and it sparks a deeper curiosity within me that I can no longer hide.
“Tell me more about yourself, Haddad. How does a history teacher find himself in the middle of a conflict like this?”
Rehan looks away momentarily, his eyes losing focus as if he’s recalling a memory. “Much like history itself, it was a series of events that were inevitable in hindsight. As tensions rose and the conflict continued, it became a duty for many of us to stand and defend our homes and heritage. But I’ve always tried to understand the broader context of our actions, and I believe it’s possible to learn from the past.”
His answer provides insight not only into his personal journey but also into his perspective on the war. It’s a narrative that’s not uncommon, yet his way of articulating it is uniquely reflective.
“So, you see this war as a continuation of history?” I asked, probing deeper, intrigued by his analytical approach.
