Chapter Eleven: Feels Good to Vent
Our relief showed up just five hours after the battle of the observation post ended. Had they arrived on time, Private James Beesner of Coral would have lived.
Was that right? If our relief had made it, they would have had to deal with the attack. Perhaps another young private, similar to Beesner, would have lost his or her life. Therefore, was it fair for me to wish that the kid were still alive? Even with the knowledge that maybe someone else would've had to die?
But it wouldn't have been one of my Marines, my aide, my friend. Maybe that was selfish, but that's the way I felt at the moment, standing on the deck of the transport ship that would take Bravo Company to Sigma Octanus IV.
We had won a key battle there on that rocky hill early this morning; my platoon and I had taken out quite a large force of Covenant by ourselves, and had kept the aliens from overrunning our lines. By all accounts, it was a great victory. Morale among the company, even the two platoons that hadn't been at the battle, was high, and Kingston had come to congratulate me. I had finally proven myself to my new combat group.
But at what cost?
I didn't see the battle as a victory, not really. I just did my job and held the line, and I ended up losing a friend in the process. On top of that, three other Marines had been killed, and five wounded. That, to me, was a failure.
The rest of first platoon was below decks, sleeping. After a nice, warm meal in the ship's mess, it had been hard for the war-weary troops to stay awake; in any case, they'd earned a break. I was the only one who hadn't eaten, and I couldn't make myself vulnerable to the nightmares by succumbing to sleep. Ergo, I was on the deck of the Rage Warrior, trying to sort out what had happened since my release from the hospital.
There's not a lot of time to think or reflect on things on the line. But there sure as hell was a lot of time now, and it was driving me nuts.
"Hey, kid, how're you holding up?"
I turned at the sound of the voice and found it was Lieutenant Graham.
"Huh?"
"I asked if you were doing ok," the other lieutenant repeated.
"Oh. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Unfortunately, my tone indicated anything but.
"Cooper."
"Hmm?"
She waved for me to follow her. "Come on."
Not sure where she was headed, I went with Lieutenant Graham down the corridor from where I'd been standing. "Graham? Where're we going?"
"I'm trying to teach you something, kid. Did you know I started out my career in the Marine Corps as enlisted?"
I blinked. "No. You get a battlefield commission?"
We walked into the mess hall, apparently the lieutenant's final destination. She fixed herself a coffee and poured another. "Sugar and cream?"
I shook my head. "Black no sugar."
She eyed me before handing me the cup.
"Sit," she said once we'd reached a table. I looked around; there were only a few scattered Marines and Navy crew in the mess, all pretty far from Graham and I.
Once seated, Lieutenant Graham pulled back the sleeve of her battledress jacket. Underneath, on her bare arm, was a long, jagged scar going from her wrist to her shoulder.
"Christ, why the hell didn't you get that removed?" I asked, cringing.
"This came from the battle where I won my gold bar." She pulled down her sleeve again and buttoned the cuff. "In that same battle, I lost my husband and my two kids."
Something happened to her eyes as she spoke. "The scar keeps my memory fresh, but its not like I can forget anyway."
"God, I'm…I'm really sorry. I didn't---"
"I read your file, kid. You've got a lot of potential, and a lot of accomplishments already. But one thing you don't have yet is wisdom of old age." She took a sip of the steaming coffee and continued. "I'm forty-eight years old and I've been fighting Covenant since way before you were even born. I've been a follower and a leader, a wife and a mother, a soldier and an officer. I've had men die on me and I've saved plenty more. You know what I've learned?"
I shook my head, thinking how horrible Graham's life must've been.
"You have to take things as they come. You have to accept that in life, you'll win some and lose some, you'll have good times and absolutely shitty times. As long as you know you did all that you could…" She trailed off and shrugged. "At the end of the day, that's what matters."
I nodded, not sure I understood what she said. I thought that, somehow, I could have done more to keep Beesner alive. I could have done more to protect my platoon or the three Marines with Corporal Simmons, now dead.
"You're thinking about your aide? How you could've saved him?"
"Yeah," I said quietly.
Lieutenant Graham put a comforting arm around my shoulder. "I won't lie to you, Cooper. It'll hurt, and you'll feel guilty. But you did all you could, and you saved the line, the company, and won the battle." Graham got up from her seat and tossed her empty cup in the trash. "Chin up, kid. Life hasn't even tested you yet. Have some chow."
She started to walk away, but then hesitated and turned around. "Natalie?"
I looked up.
Her face contorted in a painful expression, but Lieutenant Graham managed to say, "Thank God every day for your man and your little boy." Then she left the mess hall.
I sat there, staring blankly at the space the other lieutenant had just vacated; the brief conversation had left my head reeling. I had no idea how incredibly awful Graham's loss must have been, but I wasn't so sure I entirely agreed with her. I believed in change, and I also believed that you could learn from your mistakes to make better choices the next time. I would grieve for my buddy, and feel bad for the death of the other three Marines. But I would use that grief and anger, along with the memory of my former platoon, to kick the Covies' ass again at our next meeting.
And this time, I'd bring all my Marines back alive.
