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“I said sit down.” GySgt. Fuimaono pulled out a chair and laid his massive forearms on the table. “Tell me what really happened.”
Landon took the edge of the seat with his back straight as if he was still standing at attention. “LCpl Martinez has had some anxiety issues in the past. His wife is due with their first child any day. He had a panic attack and I thought I got him the right treatment and requested he be sent for further evaluation when we got home, but I failed him.”
GySgt. Fuimaono nodded, taking it all in. “Your job is to keep my Marines healthy. I know that can be a lot to ask sometimes, but if you can’t perform your duties than you don’t belong here. Do you really feel that you failed?”
Landon didn’t know the answer to that and the insinuation that he couldn’t do his job sliced through him like a knife. “I should have done better.”
“And I believe you will next time.” He smiled, a short curve of his upper lip changing his stern face into something else entirely for a moment before the mask slipped back into place. “It seems you have some Marines that care about you and wanted to make sure your name was in the clear. You were in Sangin on your first tour, right?”
Sierra. Landon clenched his jaw. “Our unit came in towards the end. We missed most of it.”
GySgt. Fuimaono nodded and didn’t press further. “Alright. Go hit the rack. It’s been a long day for everyone.”
“How bad was it?” Sgt. Sierra poked his head out from his bunk.
Landon leaned down to unlace his boots. “Could have been worse, I guess. But don’t fight my battles for me.”
“Who me? I didn’t do anything.” He laughed. “But you have to know this wasn’t your fault, man. There’s no way any of us would have guessed he would take it that far.” Sgt. Sierra rolled over and propped himself up on his forearm, but Landon wasn’t in the mood to talk.
He lifted himself onto the thin mattress and bunched the pillow under his head. The day’s events played out in his mind on repeat, every second he wasted and the things he should have done differently. The guilt of it all made him physically sick and the rocking of the ship didn’t help with the discomfort.
Landon closed his eyes and tried to will the feeling away. Sleep was just out of reach. Every time he could sense it coming, it would fade with another worry. He tried to focus on memories of Tessa and the kids, bright spots in the dark and clustered space. Emily’s giggles. Mason’s smile. Moose drooling over the baseball. The curve of Tessa’s neck when he pressed his lips against it.
“You feel that, Doc?” Sgt. Sierra’s voice drifted to him as a whisper. Landon’s eyes shot open and he laid as still as he could in the quiet of the night. The rocking of the ship had eased, smoothing to a steadier rhythm. They were moving again.
I’m going home.
