Four strangers fighting in the Iraq War find their lives intertwine and their fates forever changed when they collide in a string of events in the northern Iraq city of Mosul. A newcomer to the bloodshed in Iraq, Jeremiah must find a way to make sense of the violent conflict his country has thrust him into. What he finds may make or break his future as an American soldier. Following the tragic death of his brother, Juma can t stand the thought of continuing on with the status quo of life before. Placing blame on the Americans in his country, he starts down a path that affects everyone around him. Coping with the kidnapping of his best friend and fellow police officer, Ali finds himself going above and beyond to fight for the future of his family and his country. Abu-Zah ara always knew he would fight jihad, but he never knew he would be leading his closest friends against the occupation of his own country. Can they find a way out of the tangled destinies which have them holding knives at each other s throats?
The Land Between Two Rivers
By R.A. WilsonAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 R.A. Wilson
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4772-8379-0Chapter One
The Soldier
The parking lot was full of tears and quiet talk and was considerably busy for three o'clock in the morning. The rest of Fort Lewis was tranquil, with no people in sight, but here, at these buildings soldiers were entering and exiting buildings in what seemed like chaos to the untrained eye. Nearly five hundred soldiers and their families swarmed the battalion area in the crisp, moonlit night. The base, a remnant of the Vietnam era, still echoed the wars of the past, even in 2004. The fluorescent lights from inside the buildings backlit the poorly painted pale yellow bricks that made up the homes of the young men who were considered the protectors of the country. The soldiers were drawing the weapons they would cling to for the next year of their lives, for the protection of not only themselves but also of their fellow soldier, while conducting the final checks on all the things they would need in Iraq. This created a hive of excitement understood only by the people inhabiting the building.
In reality, the soldiers did not know what they really needed. Instead they packed everything, just to make sure they were not forgetting anything. "Do we really need this extreme-cold-weather suit? I thought we were going to a place that is really hot!" No one had an answer to the question. This was going to be Operation Iraqi Freedom Three, but there were still not many people in leadership who could provide the soldiers with the answers they needed to be ready for war. Instead they prepared for the worst and expected the ugliest.
In between waiting in lines and finding each other, soldiers were visiting with their families and introducing them to the people that they would eat with, sleep near, and trust for the unknown year that lay ahead. All the soldiers were well trained and by army standards "ready" for a war that had never faced this army before, but the soldiers still did not know what to expect. When they thought of this deployment, they thought hot, desert, sand, danger, and very poor living conditions, perhaps just tents in the middle of nowhere. As they stood there in their desert combat uniforms, watching the slowly solidifying mass of chaos, they knew that not all of these people would come back and that that some would come back missing a leg, an arm, an ear. They were still soldiers and still proud to serve their country, even though not all would say so aloud, too pompous to admit that they liked being an American soldier. Still they stood there, despite that the odds that faced them.
"Babe, you seen my family?" Sergeant Jeremiah Bernard asked his new fiancée, Mckayla.
"I haven't seen them yet. Oh, wait. I think I see your mom."
Jeremiah looked over into the parking lot and saw his mom with her arms crossed, peering into the pandemonium. She was wrapped up in a jacket that was much too thin for the frosty air. Jeremiah set down his protective vest and helmet and wandered over to retrieve her. As he approached her, he could see the fear in her eyes. Although Jeremiah stood six inches taller than his mother at five feet ten inches tall and had the build of a triathlete, his mother still did not believe her little boy could take care of himself. His mother was always supportive, but she was still very protective of him. In high school, when Jeremiah went out for the wrestling team, she went to every match. Even though she was there, she almost never watched him, as she cringed at his every movement on the mat, sure he had broken something.
"Hey, Mom, we're over here," Jeremiah called across the parking lot. "Where is Dad?"
"You know your father; he refused to come, but you know he sends his love," Jeremiah's mother replied in her constantly reassuring voice.
Jeremiah's father was very liberal and did not hide it. He had always been against the war in Iraq; he was convinced it was a war about oil, and the reasons for invasion were all propaganda to support Bush's ridiculous war. Because of this, Jeremiah was not surprised his father did not show up. When his father found out Jeremiah had joined the army, he drove down to Jeremiah's college dorm fuming and nearly got into a fistfight with him.
"I have to finish getting my stuff together; let's go over here by Mckayla," Jeremiah asked his mother when he turned back toward his bags. As they weaved back over to the bags, Jeremiah wondered if his father went through the same thing when he went to Vietnam. His father was drafted in the later years of the Vietnam War and thought the army was a joke. He didn't want his son to experience the scarring section of his life, which he had pushed out of his memory, and therefore never discussed with his family.
A voice hollered from behind Jeremiah, his mother, and Mckayla, "Sergeant Bernard." Jeremiah turned around to find Private First Class Wynn, who was one of two new soldiers among his four.
"Got all your stuff over here?" Jeremiah asked him.
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Good, now go find your twin, and I will check over it," Jeremiah replied. He had just earned the rank of sergeant two months ago and had four soldiers under him, the youngest and newest being Specialist Duncan and Wynn. The pair had entered the military on the buddy program, meaning they trained together and went to the same duty station. They were college buds when they decided to join, after Duncan had graduated and Wynn flunked out of his classes; they couldn't find jobs. Duncan had lost his uncle on September 11; he was at the Pentagon at the time of the attacks. They thought the army would be the next big step for them.
Duncan and Wynn approached, dragging their large duffel bags behind them. "How you guys doing? Are you ready to go?" Jeremiah asked them as he checked to make sure they had their weapon and other important equipment like their protective mask.
"Good, our families already left last night. My mom said it would be too sad to watch us pack up and get on the buses," Duncan replied.
"Yeah, she said that she would just imagine we were still at Fort Lewis and not think that we are in Iraq," Wynn added.
"This is my mom, Pam," Jeremiah said.
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Wynn said,
"Take care of my boy, please; I know you boys will always be together."
"No problem," When said.
"Mom, please," Jeremiah said, rolling his eyes. "You two go over by Greene and Crow," he said, indicating Jeremiah's other soldiers who had been in the unit almost as long as he had.
Just then, the First Sergeant called out, "All the duffel bags need to be stacked by the trucks, and formation will be in fifteen minutes. Pass it around."
"Does that mean we have to say good-bye now?" Mckayla asked in a panicky voice. She had not said much; she did not want to believe that the man of her dreams was going to a foreign country for a year.
"Don't worry, baby. They will give us time for that," Jeremiah said.
The bags were stacked, and everyone lined up in the company formation, with their families standing to the sides, looking on. The squad leaders made sure all the soldiers were present and none had run off. The chaplain then stepped to the front and led them all in a prayer. Sniffles echoed through the crowd as he asked for the protection of the fathers, sons, men who stood in uniform in front of them.
"Alright, now that we know that you all showed up, I'm going to give you twenty minutes to say your last goodbyes, and then we are getting on the buses," First Sergeant announced at last...
