William Weber - Turning the Tide

“How’d you get that cut on your hand, John?”

“Oh, this? It’s nothing, I was just taking out the trash.”

Al stared at the wound, straining to see in the dim light cast by the truck’s overhead lights. “I’m no doctor, but I think that could be infected. You might wanna have it looked at.”

John glared at the cut, having trouble focusing. “Nah, I think I’m fine.”

“You didn’t drive like this, did you?”

“What’s with all the questions, Al?” John barked. “I’m just trying to get some sleep here.”

Just then a light came on in the house and Diane appeared.

“Oh, great, now you’ve gone and woken up my wife.”

Al watched Diane as she approached.

“Why don’t you come inside, honey?” she asked John.

“I don’t wanna disturb you or the kids.”

“Well, believe it or not, you’re disturbing them every time you sleep out here.”

John was suddenly terribly embarrassed she was speaking so frankly in front of Al.

“There’s a cut on his hand that I’m worried about,” Al said.

“I thought you were going to get that treated,” Diane said.

“I will. Tomorrow.”

Al pulled a hanky out of his pocket and wrapped it around John’s hand. Now Al’s wife Missy came over. This was turning into a crowd, making John more and more uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you come inside,” Diane offered. “I’ll set up the pull-out couch for you.”

Without being prompted, Al opened the door and helped John out of the truck. He landed on a pair of wobbly legs, grabbing onto his neighbors’ shoulders for support.

They headed inside and brought John to the sofa in the living room. Gregory and Emma stood in the kitchen, watching all this unfold.

“Thank you,” Diane said to Al and Missy.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, ruffling Gregory’s hair. “Who knows, maybe one day we’ll be the ones in need of a hand. That’s what neighbors are for, isn’t it?”

After they left, Diane sent the kids to their rooms so she and John could talk.

“James Wright called the house,” Diane told him, opening a wicker trunk where they kept extra blankets and pillows. “Said you weren’t at Christopher Lewis’ funeral. You know, I told you I was happy to go with you.”

John shook his head. How was he supposed to explain that being there was too difficult?

“The drinking’s starting to become a real problem, John. Susan Wright and I have started talking on a regular basis now. Commiserating, you might say. James has been hitting the bottle and it’s gotten to a point where she’s about to throw him out. Is that where you want things to go with us?”

John shook his head, patting the plush pillow.

“I think you should go and talk to someone at the VA.”

“You mean a shrink?” John spat with disgust.

“I’m sure it’ll help.”

“And then what, Diane? Have them label me a coward?”

Tears came to her eyes. “Ever since I’ve known you, John, you’ve always been under such control. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t. That’s exactly the problem. You always take too much on yourself and fail to do the most important thing.”

“Really? And what’s that?”

“Ask for help. No one’s gonna brand you a coward, John. If not for yourself, do it for the kids. Think of your JTAC friend Christopher Lewis. You don’t want them growing up without a father, do you?”

On a bookshelf beside the television was a row of framed family pictures. A handful were of Gregory and Emma learning to water-ski two summers ago, beaming with joy and pride at what they’d accomplished. But more than that, John knew part of the joy the kids had experienced came from knowing their parents had been watching them grow.

The thought made John’s body convulse as tears fought past his closed eyelids and rolled down his cheeks. The floodgate he’d tried to keep closed for so long had burst right off the hinges.

Oneida. Present.

John, Moss and Reese found General Brooks inside the high-school gymnasium. Ever since shattered elements of the 278th, 101st and now the 3rd Infantry Division had trudged back into Oneida from the front, the secondary school had become something of a barracks. Classrooms on the top floor were now sleeping quarters for officers. The rest housed enlisted men and support staff. Although many of the kids in town were probably dreading the day lessons would resume, John couldn’t wait. It would signal a return to normalcy, a feeling he hadn’t known for quite some time.

When he arrived, the energy in the gymnasium was frenetic. On his way he’d spotted small groups of soldiers running through town, leaving him wondering if everything was all right.

Brooks gave two soldiers a list of names and asked for them to be brought in for questioning.

“What’s going on?” John asked.

Brooks stopped, resting a hand on a crate of ammunition. “Two women fetching water from the reservoir this morning found Wilbur Powel dead, along with all of his pigeons.”

John gasped. “I thought we’d assigned a guard to him.”

“We had,” General Brooks said, pushing past John, Reese and Moss. He scooped up a clipboard from a table behind them. “But after Huan’s escape, we needed every available man to run a house-to-house search.”

“Did you find anything?”

Brooks shook his head. “We even brought Dr. Coffee and his son in for questioning, but their alibis both checked out.”

Moss crossed his arms. “Guess you didn’t think World War Three would have you playing detective, did you?”

“Speaking of detective,” Brooks said. “Where were you three between 0200 and 0600 hours?”

Reese smiled. “We’d tell you, General, but then we’d have to kill you.”

“We were conducting reconnaissance,” John answered, deflecting Reese’s well intentioned, but ill-timed joke.

“Reconnaissance?”

“Yes, it’s the reason we’ve come to talk with you. In fact, you’ll need to get General Dempsey on the radio. I know the Chinese are still struggling with their electronics, but I’d feel more comfortable if we used an encrypted signal.”

“Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something here.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” John said. “But it’s urgent. Perhaps Colonel Higgs could take over for you.”

Brooks sighed and let his clipboard fall back on the desk with a clatter. “You’re the most stubborn subordinate I’ve ever met. I just want you to know that.”

John’s chin dimpled with a grin. “Now I know you and my wife have at least one thing in common.”

“All right, John,” General Dempsey said. “You’ve got the secure signal you wanted, now let’s make this quick.”

“Understood, sir. My team and I just got back from destroying a truck depot near Jonesboro, Arkansas. I’ve also got another group planting IEDs along I-40 to destroy Chinese supply columns heading east. But the real reason I’m on the line with you, sir, is about the concentration camp right outside Jonesboro.”

John spent the next few minutes outlining his plan for liberating the camp and arming the freed prisoners.

“What sort of state are these men in?” General Dempsey asked. “Will they be in any condition to mount guerrilla raids if you succeed in breaking them out?”

“I won’t lie, General. The folks we saw were dressed in rags. In the short time we were there we saw at least one prisoner beaten and dragged away. Many are American soldiers who were deployed along the Mississippi when the Chinese overran our defences. That means they haven’t been there more than a few weeks. But the longer we wait on this, the worse they’ll get. The last thing we want is to be marching sick and weakened POWs hundreds of miles to safety. By launching the raid now, we might just be able to start a chain reaction. The Chinese are overstretched. Without a doubt, conquering a country as vast as ours presents a unique set of challenges. I’m sure a conversation with Napoleon and Hitler about pushing into Russia would show you what I mean.”