Page 73 of Meant to Be
“But seeing it is different in reality, isn’t it?” Memories from Jordan bubbled to the surface: Refugees missing limbs, starving, blinded, and scarred, physically and emotionally. The hardest to cope with were the children, who stared at her with such hope, and yet were hungry, wounded, and not likely to see relief anytime soon. Sydney hadn’t ever felt as useless as she had in Jordan. Why the world hadn’t long ago found a way to stop war to avoid the atrocities, heartache, and despair, she’d never know.
“Yes. But it’s worse when it comes from your own side.”
“What?”
His forearms rested on his thighs, his head down. He looked so lost, and she wanted more than anything to wrap him in her love and make all his heartache go away. If only it were that easy.
“I don’t know how it is up north, but love of country is important down here. Love of God, country, and family, in that order.”
Sydney didn’t think the south held the market on patriotism, but she didn’t say anything.
“Patriotism is a staple and serving your country is a great honor.”
She remembered how important enlisting had been to him, even though it had significantly changed their plans. She’d supported it because it hadn’t occurred to her not to. Back then, she didn’t have her own voice.
“Brian, he was born to serve. I wanted to serve, but he was a born soldier. We thought we were lucky to serve together in Iraq. We thought we’d lucked out to get Sergeant Hancock’s squad. He was larger than life. Like he walked out of a John Wayne war movie. He helped us. Mentored us. And by us, I mean all his men. That brotherhood thing is for real.”
“You admired him.”
He turned his head enough to see her. “Yes.” He paused. “They train you to do things and think in ways that most people don’t.”
“I imagine you have to think quickly when you’re in danger.”
He scoffed and turned away. “And you obey orders. People die if you don’t. Except, people were dying when we did.”
Sydney frowned. What did he mean? Wasn’t war about killing the enemy, in which case, people died?
“The first inkling something wasn’t right was when Hancock put a weapon in a dead Iraqi’s arms after he’d killed him.” Mitch turned to her again. “I believe in my country and the military.”
She nodded, confused by his assertions.
“But not everyone who serves is… good.”
Sydney’s breath hitched. “Your sergeant?” She breathed. If Mitch had blindly obeyed his corrupt sergeant, as was his training, he’d done dreadful things.
He stood and studied his reflection in the mirror. What did he see? It couldn’t be good if his pained expression was any indication.
“It’s hard to tell who the enemy is sometimes.”
She wanted to say something to comfort him but didn’t think there were any appropriate words.
“Jesus… they were innocent. Families… children…” He placed his hands on the dresser and looked down, as if he couldn’t stand to look at himself. “Such chaos, at least that’s what Brian and I thought.” He looked up and caught her gaze through the reflection in the mirror. “It wasn’t, though. It was planned. He was hunting them, killing them, and using us to do it.” His words choked. “Not me.” He turned to her, face distorted into the worst sort of torture, his eyes red with tears. “I never killed them. Neither did Brian.”
He spoke with such vehemence. It was important to him she understood. And because she did, she stood and went to him.
“You wouldn’t.” She put her arms around him and held him, wishing she could rid him of the pain.
He tensed, resisting her comfort initially, but then he pulled her to him and buried his face in her neck. After a few moments, he pulled away and turned from her. “Brian reported it and I backed him up. But…”
“They didn’t believe you?”
“They did, eventually, but not before Brian and I were sent on a patrol.”
Sydney’s stomach dropped.
“I can’t say they planted the bomb, but… well, it doesn’t matter. Brian died.”
“Mitch, I’m so sorry.” She sensed he wanted space, but she was unable to stop herself from touching him. She reached out, placing her hand on his arm.
