John Ringo - Against the Tide

“No,” Herzer assured her. “Once upon a time there was a young man who went for soldier…”

“That would be you?” she asked, jokingly.

“No, not me,” Herzer said. “That will be obvious in a bit. Anyway, he joined the Blood Lords figuring it would be better than cutting wood the rest of his life. And he did pretty well. He didn’t do so well that he rose really high, but he was a pretty good soldier. Maybe too good. Always in the thick of it. Lots of combat, even when it was scarce. Always wanted to be out on the line. Then, one day, he got sent off to train some militia who were having bandit problems. He had a real… thing for bandits. Anyway, the militia, with his help, managed to trap the bandits.” Herzer paused and frowned. “Under certain conditions, legally, such persons can be given a summary field trial and executed. My… friend didn’t do even that. He had them tied up, lined up and then he slit their throats.”

“Ugh,” Megan said. “You’re right, I don’t like the story.”

“The militia was a little shaken and they tried to hush it up but it got back to the UFS authorities who, after an investigation, gave him a choice: full court-martial or resign. He resigned.”

“They didn’t try him?” Megan said, surprised.

“No, they didn’t,” Herzer replied. “Despite the fact that I recommended it and so did Edmund. You see, my friend had a problem; he enjoyed killing too much. That was why he was always in the thick of it. He’d gotten addicted to the… sense of power that comes from taking a human life. That is one of those things that doesn’t get talked about nearly enough. That, horrible as combat is, there’s a… rush to surviving it and a positive sense of… godlike power when you take another life. There are lots of people that say they don’t enjoy any aspect of combat. Most of them, the ones that keep going back, are liars.”

“You feel it, too,” Megan said, quietly.

“I feel it,” Herzer replied. “That’s part of my dark side, one part. But I don’t like that dark side and I sure as hell don’t nurture it. But my point is that you are going to come out of what you went through with a dark side. Your own. You’ll think that that side is something different. That there are things in there you don’t want to share because nobody could feel the way that you do. But that’s not true. Others have the same thoughts, the same shameful thoughts, and feelings. And by talking to people who understand, who have been through the same things and have studied them and understand them, you can come to understand them, too.”

“Those people are few and far between,” Megan said, turning to look at him. She stared at the profile for a moment and then frowned. “I’m… sort of surprised that you’re an expert.”

“I’m not on rape trauma,” Herzer replied, continuing to look out at the ocean. “But combat is psychological trauma. One of the classes I teach is how to reduce post-combat stress, otherwise you lose too many troops to it. One way or another.”

“One of the soldiers at the castle was talking about that,” Megan said, frowning again. “But he didn’t put it that way. Just that some of the soldiers couldn’t handle the fighting…”

“We put a lot more effort into training than Clan McClure does,” Herzer said, turning his head to glance at her, then looking back at the ocean. “One of the purposes is to weed out the soldiers that won’t be able to handle the mental strain. But even the ones that make it through standard training have problems. Either they lose the edge, lose the ability, to fight or… they go the other way. Losing them is a logistic and economic failure, one we can’t afford. Spending a certain amount of time and money on making sure they can make it through more than two battles is worth it. So we do. Debriefs, unit counseling, individual counseling at unit level, trooper blasts, they all play a part. Humans are social creatures; we manage our pain by sharing it in one way or another. You wouldn’t believe the sorts of practical jokes that combat soldiers play on each other. That’s a way of bonding and sharing the pain as much as anything else.”

“I don’t have anyone to share it with,” Megan said, softly.

“Bast is the only expert we have available on rape trauma,” Herzer said, shrugging. “Daneh, Edmund’s wife, is probably the person you could talk to best, but she’s not here. Bast is. And you’ve been avoiding her.”

“You know why,” Megan said, turning away.

“Yes,” Herzer said, glancing at her again. “And you don’t need to.”

“So you say,” Megan replied, bitterly.

“Bast and I…” Herzer said, then paused. “I was about to say ‘we go back a long time.’ But we don’t, only a few years. Very… hard years but not so long, really, especially not to Bast. She has already told me that I’m lost to her.”

“Are you still sleeping with her?” Megan asked.

“Yes,” Herzer replied. “We’ve been sharing my bed. It’s barely large enough, but we’re used to that. Oh, you mean sex ?” he asked, as if it was a surprise. “In that case, no.”

“What?” Megan said, looking at him again.

“No,” he said, turning to look at her. “I won’t say it hasn’t been tempting , but I knew it would matter to you. So did Bast. So… we took a reprieve.” He paused and grinned. “Frankly, I needed to build my strength back up anyway.”

“You didn’t need to do that for me ,” Megan said, angrily.

“Did I not?” Herzer replied, tightly. “Megan, I have the, unfortunate, reputation of being a tomcat. I’ll admit that I’m not serially monogamous. Bast is, but I’m not. She’s fine with that. But the point is that I don’t fully understand women, but I understand them well enough. And I understand that there’s… something going on between us. If I said ‘Oh, well, we carried on regardless’ then that would, at the very least, hurt your feelings, would it not?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Giving up fooling around for a few days is not going to kill me,” Herzer replied. “I had to forego it for a year and a half one time because of the nature of a mission. And you are important to me. More important than any woman I’ve ever met…” He paused and shrugged. “Well, any woman that matters for this discussion. And you’re not fully healed, maybe never will be. I’m not stupid enough to think that I can jump right in your bed. Or that it will be easy even once we… get over this…”

“Yes,” she said, smiling faintly. “This. You’re not, at all, what I expected you to be, Herzer Herrick.”

“Oh?” he said, frowning.

“As I said, your name had come up. The Blood Lord’s Blood Lord. The most dangerous soldier the UFS has is another way of saying it. That mission you were talking about. Was that Harzburg?”

“Yes,” Herzer said, surprised. “It was.”

“You’ll be happy to know that you pissed people off at the highest level,” Megan said, grinning. “What I didn’t expect was a philosopher.”

“That I’m not,” Herzer argued.

“Well, then, a good field psychologist,” Megan replied, shrugging. “Someone who cares about the feelings of others. And understands them, which is stranger. A warrior, a killer, that was expected. Not this.” She stepped across the intervening gap and put her arm through his, leaning her head on his arm. “Someone I could love.”

“Oh,” Herzer replied, standing as still as if a bird had come to land on his outstretched finger.

“I think it’s okay if you put your arms around me,” Megan said after a moment.