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Pulling back, she blinked. Frowned. Shook her head. “No way.” Then shook her head more fiercely. “I will never believe that, Winston. Come up with whatever stories you must, but don’t insult me with lies.”
He almost smiled. Could feel a small appreciative hint of humor inside him. That quickly faded away. “Dust in the Wind.”
The old song from his father’s day had become a mantra, living over there in the Afghan desert.
“For all intents and purposes, I became a traitor,” he modified his words. “The way we were ambushed...it seemed probable that someone on their side had infiltrated us somehow. We were sitting ducks. So I went AWOL. Left without anyone knowing, without orders. We had no idea where or how they were getting our intel, so I couldn’t afford to tell anyone.”
“If there was a traitor of the US side, he’d have shared your plan with the enemy, and the men who were honorable, would never have allowed you to go.”
Right. He’d forgotten how often she’d been traveling along his same thought process. The memory didn’t bring comfort. Just made it all harder.
And more necessary to get the job done.
“I hid out in the desert for a day, and then, with my uniform shirt on a stick, went walking into their little village. I’d seen a group of kids playing and stayed close to them, figuring that they wouldn’t shoot and risk hitting one of them. In their own perspective they’re a
lot like us. Loyal. Protective of their own.”
But he was getting off course.
“Long story short, I gave them enough information to convince them that I wanted to be one of them. And then gave them enough false information to allow my comrades time to get out. I knew a group of friendlies were close, I just had to provide distraction so they could get to my guys. After my goal was met. All I had to do was wait for a chance to escape. And in the meantime, I figured that I’d spend my days gathering intel, in the event I actually made it out. And every other day, it seemed, I was given another challenge. Something else I had to do to show my loyalty. That first day, I had to kill a soldier, one from the US side, and bring him to them.”
That had been a choice where he’d crossed another line. Turning over one his comrades.
The look of horror on her face came and went quickly. Its existence at all was confirmation of what he knew. There were just some things a man did from which he couldn’t come back.
The fact that he even could...
“Winston.” Her hand touched his arm. Softly. She left it there, her fingers slowly moving against his skin.
“I, uh, before I’d entered their camp...after I went AWOL... I knew where one of our men had been stationed and slaughtered. I found him. Put on his bloody uniform, dressed him in mine. Just that easily, I became Private First Class Danny Garrison. The kid...he’d been born to an older couple who doted on him. Who’d been so afraid for him to deploy. And yet he’d been the most willing, most dedicated of all of us. I admired the hell out of him. Of all the deaths that had happened that week, his...”
No. He stopped talking.
She only needed the facts. No sense making things messier than they had to be. Clouding things prolonged the inevitable. He knew this. Had survived by it.
“I knew I was walking into eventual death.” He looked her right in the eye when he admitted the god-awful truth. He’d been willing to leave her, to do something that his job hadn’t even required him to do.
That had been a choice that changed everything.
“And knew that when it was all over, the man who’d walked into that enemy village would likely be hailed as a hero. I wanted that for Danny’s parents. So I moved his body away from his designated post to a place I’d more likely have been, having gone AWOL. He was pretty mutilated. Cause of death was clear. It was unlikely an autopsy would be done.”
“That makes no sense, Winston. Recovered military bodies are sent to Dover, identified by fingerprints and dental records.”
Of course she’d know that. He had, too.
“When you’re over there...” He shook his head. Trying to make someone a hero by giving him credit for something that you were ashamed of having done?
No, wait. He wasn’t at all ashamed of what he’d done. He’d saved lives of men he knew. And now, with the far-reaching effects of what he’d learned, who knew how many more would be saved?
He’d done the right thing.
Just not something the Winston Hannigan who’d left California, who’d been married to Emily Hannigan, would have done.
Danny hadn’t had a wife or kids. The choice would have made his parents proud.
“His face was... There wouldn’t have been enough for dental records,” he said. “But you’re right, if I died, as expected, the US military likely would have been able to identify me.”
The navy—and the special ground force operators—thought he’d made a smart choice, posing as an already-dead soldier. To protect his own future. The enemy combatants with whom he’d lived had likely never heard of Petty Officer First Class Winston Hannigan.
