Chapter 1 - The Call

This is the first chapter of my "Everyday Hero" novel, based on my experiences in Iraq. An introduction to the novel is listed in my port under Everyday hero Porject. The main thing I am looking for is making sure that it speaks to the average reader, who may not necessarily buy a book about war, but rather be interested in the life of an "Everday Hero", explained in my introduction. I don't want the piece to be boring, but yet, I don't want to fill it with unexpected hype, because I think it detracts from the raw emotion experienced. Please let me know what I can do to improve the flow, and other ideas, especially in grammar, spelling and punctuation, etc. Thanks.

The Call
Noah stared at the luminous Caller ID screen on his phone as the familiar ring pierced through the air. Its green glow was a confirmation of his fears as the lettering displayed US GOVERNMENT on the screen. For weeks since the President ordered more troops to Iraq, Noah felt his heart race a little bit whenever his phone rang, or when he would see the Fed Ex truck in his neighborhood. The phone rang, and rang again, and his wife, Cate, seeing him stare at the phone, knew what was going on as her eyes welled up, and tears ran down her cheeks. The sight of his wife in a distraught disposition caused Noah’s own eyes to well, as he tried hard to choke back tears. The phone continued to ring once more before Noah swallowed hard, cleared his throat and in a weak voice, said, “Hello?” He knew exactly who it was, but was trying to hold out hope and fool himself into thinking that it was a wrong number, or perhaps a Federal government worker explaining VA Benefits. Any other possible scenario of who it might be in the brief seconds before the person on the other end of call spoke.

“Lieutenant Rhodes,” the other end spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “This is Sergeant First Class Joiner. The new mobilization list came out and your name was on that list for cross-leveling into the 342nd Transportation Company out of Albuquerque, New Mexico. You have a mobilization date for 9 December. You are to report to Ft. Lyons for your Soldier Readiness Preparation in two days. You should find complete orders via Fed Ex within 24 hours to include contact information of your new unit,” SFC Joiner stated, as if he were reading from a script. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Noah stated and that was it. The call was over. In a matter of less than 30 seconds, Noah’s life had been turned upside down.

Cate was now sitting on the kitchen floor with her head buried in her hands, no longer having the strength to even stand. Noah hung up the phone and walked slowly to his wife. He sat down on the floor facing her and placed her legs over his and just held her tightly as she cried hysterically onto Noah’s sweater. Noah knew that there was no magical solution to this situation, but knew he needed her support. He rubbed her back and cuddled her like she was a crying toddler. He didn’t blame her for her fragile state at that time, and he wanted to cry to, but needed to be strong. He lifted up her face so he could see her blue eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks, which had now acted as an adhesive causing her blonde hair to stick to her soft skin.

“It’s okay baby. We can get through this together,” Noah spoke in a soft whisper. If it were only that simple. He had two weeks to essentially get all his paperwork together, from his will, to his marriage certificate, to his son, Dylan’s birth certificate, Power of Attorney, and a slew of other stuff. Fortunately he knew this was probably coming, but still, the work ahead was great in preparing for this next life.

“So your unit is going?” Cate asked in a stuttering voice as she tried to force the words out, admitting she knew what was to happen.

“Not exactly. I’m going. I’m being transferred to a unit in New Mexico.”

“What!” Cate screamed. “Why the hell are they sending just you. They can’t find enough Transportation Officers in New Mexico, they have to get you from halfway across the country.” Her tears had now been transformed into anger and began pounding her fist on the floor beside her before Noah grabbed them and held her tightly again.

Traditionally, when Reservist soldiers would get called up, it was their unit that would be called up, and the soldier would go with the unit they trained with. Now, with shortages of key personnel in areas, soldiers were hand-chosen based on their skills, and thrown together. It was not uncommon for a unit to be a majority of cross-leveled soldiers compared to soldiers that were actually organic to the unit.

Noah was a Transportation Officer, which was a hot commodity, as was military truck drivers, referred to “88 Mikes”, as 88M was the military code for truck drivers. These were the soldiers that would travel up and down the roads of Iraq delivering fuel, food, water, and ammunition to the front lines. Problem is, there were no more “front-lines”.

Convoys were the most frequent and favorite targets of the insurgent attacks. After all, it would be hard for the Americans to fight if they had no food, no water, no fuel, and no bullets. Convoy attacks were a daily occurrence, as CNN and the other news outlets would report, “… soldiers were killed today by a roadside bomb, bringing the total death toll in Iraq to…” The Army didn’t call them roadside bombs, but preferred the more technical term, Improvised Explosive Devices, or IEDs. An IED could be anything from a Coke can full of explosives to being as creative as a mortar round hidden inside an animal carcass.

Noah and Cate soon collected themselves off the floor, and brushed themselves off. Noah hugged his wife once again, kissed her soft lips gently, and wiped her cheeks once more. Now came the difficult part. Should they tackle it now, or should they postpone for a few days when both Noah and Cate would be used to the idea? They had to tell their 3-year-old son, Dylan, that his Daddy was going to be away from home for 18 months.

As they peered out into the living room, there sat Dylan on the couch watching cartoons with a bowl of popcorn on his lap, and even more on his shirt and beside him on the couch.

“What’s wrong Mommy,” Dylan asked seeing the tears that Cate wiped from her cheeks.

“Nothing buddy, nothing at all,” was all her reply before she exited the room quickly and continued to weep on their bed, clutching a stuffed bear, like she herself was a child again. It was at that point it would be decided to tell Dylan the truth in a few days, when his Mom and Dad were in a better mental state.

Noah checked in on his wife, curled up in a fetal position on the bed with a stuffed teddy bear in her arms, but at least now she was watching the television. Well, the television was on now. It’s debatable whether she was actually watching it, or simply trying to distract herself. Noah felt it wise to give her the space she needs now and let her get cooled down and accept her fate, as well as the fate of her husband of five years.

The first step in Noah’s new life was to maintain secrecy as he picked up the phone and had to make a few calls. He had to call his family, Cate’s family, his company commander, who may have already known of his fate, and anyone else he could call that would listen; all this without Dylan suspecting a thing. It was mainly therapeutic for him to call people. He had to be strong on the outside for the sake of Cate and Dylan, but it was tearing him apart inside.

Noah accepted his fate that he was going to war, but for such a long time? That was hardest part for Noah to accept was 18 months away from his family. Dylan was barely 3 years old, and 18 months was half of his life. Noah thought back to what he was doing 18 months ago as a reference. His thoughts trailed to thinking about a second Honeymoon that Cate and him took in the Bahamas. That was around 18 months ago, but it still didn’t make him feel better.
Noah was prepared mentally for the actual deployment piece and his job as a Transportation Officer. He was strong and confident of his abilities, but 18 months? 18 months is such a long time, especially when compared to two weeks, which was all he had left before he boarded the plane to Albuquerque.

After numerous calls that night breaking the news to friends and families, and trying to answer their questions, many of which Noah didn’t know, he was emotionally drained. He went into the other room to check up on his son. Dylan had fallen asleep on the couch, with the sound of cartoons in the background. He looked so innocent and peaceful with his arm being used as a pillow, while the other one drooped down to the floor with kernels of popcorn still on his shirt. Noah felt he had taken for granted moments like this before and wished he could have been a better father. What could he have done better? What would he do now?
Noah lifted up his son and placed him in his arms with Dylan resting his head on Noah’s broad shoulders. He carried him upstairs to Dylan’s bedroom and placed him on his bed. He placed a stuffed animal near Dylan’s sleeping chest and he instinctively wrapped his arm around it and hugged it close to him. Noah pulled the covers over Dylan to keep him warm, and gave him a slight kiss on his cheek. Tears immediately formed in Noah’s eyes and started to stream down his cheeks. He wiped them away but they kept coming. Noah sat on the floor and watched Dylan sleep, watching his small frame move up and down as he breathed. After several minutes, Noah got up and walked back downstairs to check in on Cate.
Cate was asleep as well, though the stuffed bear she had been clutching onto was now on the floor. He kissed her lips softly. He had aspirations to go to bed and maybe when he would wake up, it would all be a dream, but not likely. He gazed at her body, so slender and sleek. Her blonde hair stretching out across the bed. Her eyes and cheeks still had a pinkish hue from crying and her nose looked extremely red and raw. She looked more like she had a bad cold, than crying all night. Her sapphire-like blue eyes concealed as she dreamt and her lips, normally dressed with lipstick, were now very pale looking. He kissed them softly once more before exiting the room. Noah was very exhausted, but felt that if he had lain down, he would not have fallen asleep anytime soon.

He decided to change into clothes suitable for running and grabbed his MP3 player and laced up his shoes tightly. He started his trek into the brisk, November night sky. The music danced in his ears, but honestly, Noah was not paying attention. He still had so many questions. Are we going to war for the right reasons? Do they even want us there? Will Cate be faithful? Will Dylan remember me? Why the hell did I join the Army to begin with?

Noah passed several election signs on the lawns left over from last week’s election. Some were for the war, stating “Support Our Troops”, while others had the same phrase, but had the caveat, “Bring Them Home”. The latter caused Noah great anger as he ran up the hill and with one swift kick, knocked the sign out of the ground.

“You think I want to go! You think anybody wanted to go! No one wants to go, but this is life. This is my life!” Noah didn’t really know what he was shouting and no one was there to hear him. He in fact didn’t want to go, but that didn’t mean he was against the war. Part of him just didn’t want it to be his war, but another part told him that it was an honor to fight for your country.

His thoughts turned to how he felt that Tuesday morning, as he watched those cowards fly into the Twin Towers. He remembered how angry he felt and was hitting a wall in the bathroom at work with tears in his eyes.

“You fucked with the wrong country you stupid assholes,” he remembered saying to himself. Now it was his turn to do what was right in his head, and accept his future, and live in history. These thoughts comforted him as he made his way back home, but not before fixing the sign he so rudely uprooted.

“This is why we have war Noah; so people have the right to put signs in their front yards,” he muttered to himself as he turned the volume up on his MP3 player racing towards home.