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3 months ago
4
by Joseph Solis-Mullen
When he’d first gotten back everyone had wanted to hear it told firsthand, but by now the war had gone on so long everyone just wanted to forget about it, successfully did most every day, and were happy to—which is why we all avoided Will once he’d gotten a certain degree of drunk, because the war was inevitably what he talked about. That particular night, however, I hadn’t been quite quick enough. I’d seen the topic creeping up as we’d done another round of shots and spent the following minute or so attempting to conceive a discreet escape when it happened:
“It’s like Tikrit—” he said, shaking his head.
And just like that he had me. I didn’t bother asking what was like Tikrit, if anything was or could be. If it was going to happen it was better not to interrupt—it was over faster that way.
“You know, not a day goes by I don’t think about it. The sights, the sounds, the smell,” he continued, making a nauseated face, that far away look in his red-rimmed, hazy eyes. “Everything all blasted and shot to hell, the smell of smoke and shit. ‘Course it was one of my first ever patrols, so I didn’t know anything about anything—”
And just my luck! Over Will’s shoulder I saw the new girl in town, Ann Lusty—and yeah, that really was her name—come in, and across the room our friend, Evan, was already honing in on her, the bastard.
“—And I see these two guys standing together,” Will continued, oblivious. “Shoulder to shoulder, blocking an alley. They’re not moving, not talking, not doing shit. Suspicious, right?”
Evan had already invited Ann over to a cozy little two-top-table pushed against the wall, the smooth devil.
“—I get closer and these two guys start puffing up, you know,” Will said, demonstrating, flexing his arms, sticking out his chest. “And, me, I’m just trying to make sure things are all good—that they aren’t hiding something, you know? Well they start barking at me. Then waving at me to go away. ‘Course, I didn’t speak the language for shit, couldn’t hardly even say ‘hello,’ so I try and just get a look behind them like this,” he said, craning his neck. “But that really sets them off and they step to me.” He put up his hands. “Sheer instinct, I had my rifle up in a heartbeat and they stopped dead, staring bloody murder.” He hiccuped. “I motion them to the side, real slow they parted, still staring me down. And you’ll never guess what was going on back there—”
I didn’t need to guess as I’d heard this story countless times—as had everyone in town, either first or second hand.
“—A lady was taking a shit back there, right in the alleyway. I kid you not,” he said, raising his right hand. “’Course I looked away right off the bat. Couldn’t really apologize, them fellas not speaking English. So I just turned and got the hell outta there. But them fellas started yelling at me again. And I look and they’re following me—”
Evan and Ann had made their way over to the jukebox. From what I’d seen, he hadn’t yet been able to establish contact.
“—Now these two had gotten everyone riled up, shouting who knows what, and a big crowd gathered round where we’d left the trucks, all of them shouting, yelling. Someone threw something that hit one of the guys and Sarge yelled something I couldn’t hear but everybody was bringing up their rifles, so I did too—twelve of us facing down an angry mob in the heart of the city.” He slammed his fist down on the bar, his beer bottle trembling as he did so. “And all over a goddamn misunderstanding—”
And there it was. Evan, that sly dog, had slid his hand over Ann’s shoulder as they headed back toward their table.
“—Our translator gets on the horn in one of the trucks and starts yelling Arabic back at them—telling them to back up or something like that. But none of them are going anywhere. Now I’ve had my rifle up a full minute but haven’t really been aiming at anything particular, but I look now and see it’s been pointed at a group of mostly women and younger kids, and most everyone of them I can see is yelling or shaking their fist at us.” Will stopped, shuddering, and polished off the remainder of his beer. “But I’ll never forget, in all that noise and commotion, there was this one kid, real young, just standing stock still and staring at me, right in the eyes. I’ll never forget it,” he repeated, and for a moment he was far from the bar, back in Tikrit, seeing that boy’s eyes again staring back at him from the other side of his rifle sights.
Evan was getting up and heading for the bar, but it was crowded, too crowded to easily get a place. I saw my chance and took it, moving back slightly to make room between Will and myself, gently pushing up on whoever was behind me, and simultaneously grabbing Audrey’s attention behind the bar, gesturing for two beers.
“Now Samarra. That was another one,” Will said, snapping back suddenly. “A goddamn misunderstanding sending everything to hell—”
“—Evan was just talking about that the other day,” I said, springing my trap just as our friend, Evan, came up to the bar, sliding up next to us and waving to Audrey, looking to get he and Ann a round.
“That right?” Will said, waving for another beer as well, before turning his attention to Evan. “You know, I was there, back in ’08 as part of the surge—”
Evan shot me a look, like ‘you son of a bitch,’ because he knew he was stuck. I said something about hitting the can and made my escape, two cold beers in hand.
As I made my way over to the cozy little table pushed up against the wall where Ann was sitting alone, it occurred to me that Will had omitted, or had forgotten, his usual ending to the Tikrit story before moving on to Samarra: that afternoon in Tikrit had been the day of his nineteenth birthday.
Ann smiled, those soft brown eyes somehow sparkling even in the low light of the bar as I sat down and slid one of the beers toward her—Evan glaring at me from over Will’s shoulder as I smiled back. That Samarra story is a tough one because Will always followed it with how Craig’s little brother lost part of his leg there. Evan, he’d find a way to shake free eventually, same as I did, but I can work fast, let me tell you.
And Will, he’s a hell of a guy, let me tell you, and we love him, but when he gets like that there’s only so much a person can take, and I think you know what I mean.
Joseph Solis-Mullen teaches history and politics at Spring Arbor University and is the Ralph Raico Fellow at the Libertarian Institute. His work can be found at the Ludwig Von Mises Institute, Quarterly Journal of Austrian Economics, Libertarian Institute, Journal of Libertarian Studies, Journal of the American Revolution, and Antiwar.com. Send him mail. Follow him on X.
