I’ve always been a father figure. I think I was destined to play that role, since I was promoted to Captain over a decade ago. It hits home now that I’m thirty-six and still have no children of my own.
Being in the Air Force, I’ve learned a few things about family. The family you were born with and the family you choose on your own usually get lost in the jumble of defending a country. This is especially true during a war. Once you put on that uniform, it doesn’t matter who you called your family before. You become America’s son.
Or, in my case, you become the Air Force dad. The other thing I learned was that the family that is forced upon you is the one you come to see as your own. Generals and colonels become your father figures. The fresh-faced recruits are like your children. And when they’re promoted, you feel a sense of fatherly pride in their accomplishments. People you fight with and suffer with are the people you form real bonds with. And even though they aren’t your flesh or blood, they’re more like family than anyone.
I think that’s truer now than it ever was before.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
6 days before Infernal Friday
He took in a breath as he exited his tent in the crisp morning air. He had been staying in the army camp for the past two days, in order to discuss the current invasion plans with the higher-ranking officers. At present, the aircraft carriers were out to sea with the naval force. Of course, the highest-ranking naval officers were here as well.
He stretched his arms and took in another breath. Even though a war was going on, it hardly seemed that way in this camp. A brief smile crossed his face.
He looked up to the sky and saw a few streaming clouds. That was unusual. Air travel was heavily restricted…
There was an explosion. He turned quickly to see a tank roaring with flames.
He took in a gasp and ran toward the nearest trench, hoping to get out of the way of the fire.
He heard the rattling of machine gun fire as he huddled under the outcropping above the trench. He was only mildly safer here than he was in the early morning daylight. He huddled with his arms wrapped around his body.
Please let this be a dream. Please let me be asleep in the tent still. He prayed to himself over and over again.
It was then that he heard more explosions, followed quickly by the screams emanating from the camp.
The quickest to their feet were swift to join him under the outcropping.
Please let this be a dream. I’ll ask nothing else ever again.
Could anyone hear his prayers?
“Let him through!” the voices shouted.
In moments, his commanding officer was before him, bleeding profusely.
“Sir!” he exclaimed.
The blood poured down his commander’s face.
He turned his head, shutting his eyes from the sight. “WHY?!?!”
Kevin woke with a startle. He placed his hand to his heart as his breathing quickened. Just a dream… At least, just a dream this time…
Lord, help me.
He rose from bed slowly, throwing a towel over his shoulders.
“If I’m sweating already, I may as well exercise,” he laughed as he mentioned this piece of information to himself. He gingerly placed his hand on his wounded arm. He was thankful each day that he had only sustained a small injury, in comparison to a death as gruesome as his commander’s.
That was the most dreadful thing about dying in war: everyone who lived suffered more, in the end. Those who died never had to see the gruesome face of war ever again. And yet, dying was never really a reprieve either. Everyone always witnessed everyone else dying. That was the horror of war.
Kevin stood on his treadmill as he adjusted the settings on the machine. He began jogging slowly, eyeing his injured arm every few moments.
March 15, 2012
“It’s a good thing we’re here to refuel your planes, isn’t it?”
Kevin gave him a slight nod. “It’s a necessity.”
“Do you ever worry about getting shot down?”
“It’s a fact of life. If it happens, it can’t be helped.”
The technician laughed. “You’re a stronger man than I am.”
Kevin gave him a warm smile and put his hand on his shoulder. “You could be just as strong someday. You just have to keep moving forward.”
“That’s pretty kind advice for someone in the army.”
Kevin shook his head. “Not everyone is a harsh drill sergeant.” A small laugh escaped his lips. He turned his head slightly. “Did you hear something?”
“Probably just the wind.”
“It probably is.”
The ship rattled intensely.
Kevin ran to the side of the ship. The water was full of ripples. He turned to face the sky. The aircrafts were overhead… and they were on the attack.
“Are the aircrafts ready, yet? We need to get off this ship.”
“It’ll be a few more hours, at least…”
“Unfortunately, they can’t wait that long…”
“Why?”
There was another crash.
Kevin turned just in time to witness the second blast. One of the airplanes burst into flames.
Without hesitation, Kevin knocked the technician to the ground.
“Ow,” the technician cringed as he hit the ground. “What was that for?”
Kevin cringed as he held his arm.
“You’re… you’re bleeding!”
Kevin cringed for a moment. “I’m fine. Just… keep moving forward.”
The young man’s eyes grew wide as he knelt with the air force captain, as the shrapnel from the planes kept flying toward them.
Kevin touched his arm lightly as he slowed the machine to a stop.
He stepped off the treadmill, wrapping the towel around his shoulders. He let out a sigh as the phone rang. He pulled it from his bedside table.
“Hello?”
“Is that any way to treat your cousin?” the line responded.
Kevin shook his head. He hadn’t realized he sounded annoyed.
“Sorry, Brian. How are you this morning?”
“Good, just busy getting ready for Sunday.”
“It is almost Easter, isn’t it?”
“This makes me a terrible pastor; my own cousin can’t remember when Easter is.”
“Sorry, I’ve just been getting ready to go back overseas.”
“That’s right. When do you get shipped out again?”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks? Now, why couldn’t you come up for Easter?”
“I wish I could, Brian…”
“I’ll be singing.”
Kevin let out a laugh. “You always sing.”
“I think it brings the community together.”
Kevin laughed again. “I’ll make you a promise.”
“A promise, huh?”
“I’ll be on leave around Christmas, so I’ll come for your Christmas Eve sermon.”
“Why don’t you just come up and see us for the entire holiday?”
“I’d love to.”
Brian laughed. “It’s a promise, then. Just, be careful when you go.”
“Sure, Brian, I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Promise.”
“Talk to you soon. I know you’ll give a great sermon on Sunday.”
“Thank you.”
Kevin lowered the phone and put his head in his hands. Relatives…
He gave a small smile. “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. The courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference.”
He ran the towel over his head and headed toward the shower.
