12 years earlier

Month One, Army National Guard Training

“Is there rain gear?” The male private next to Lila asked the question and she cringed. He was young and nervous, but he could get them all in hot water.

“Rain gear, Private? Rain gear? Where the holy hell do you think you are? Playing golf at Augusta?” The drill sergeant filled his role well. He was the stereotypical leader from TV: buzzed hair, not an inch of fat and incredibly tough. But Lila had fought to get here and she wasn’t about to complain about getting wet. “You’re a bunch of mealy-mouthed losers,” he said disgustedly. “Now, follow me. Since you haven’t had rifle training yet, I don’t have to worry you’ll shoot off your foot, thank the Lord in heaven, but don’t let your mind drift off.”

They marched out of the barracks in two lines behind the sergeant. A few people grumbled. They didn’t even know enough to shut up.

Rain fell, dripped on her helmet and snaked its way to the inside of her collar. The water was freezing, but Louisiana was hot this fall so it didn’t feel too bad. The ground was still solid. The marched uneventfully, a long way without any break. Since physical fitness had been a priority for her since she decided to be in the army, she kept up easily. After about an hour, others began to fall out of line and lag behind.

Not long after, the rain started to pelt; it slanted a thousand tiny pinpricks which hit her face. Still, she went on, leading the others.

But soon she could hear the ground squish under her boots, feel herself sink into it. The soldier next to her tripped and fell. Lila turned to see if he was okay, noticed in her peripheral vision others had hit the ground too.

Then she stumbled. Her face plopped in the mud and she choked on the icky substance, which tasted like shit. To make matters worse, her ankle began to throb. Fuck!

Rifle Training

“Listen up!” The drill sergeant held the gun in front of him. “This is the premier weapon of the army, the M16A2. It’s been around since the Vietnam War and is still a favorite. The machine is one of the finest military weapons ever designed. Grab hold of yours.”

Lila picked up the gun on the desk in front of her in the army classroom.

“The rifle puts out a lotta lead and is easy to operate. The mechanism is air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine-fed and can be fired from the shoulder or the hip. It can be a semiautomatic, which means the barrel shoots one round, or set as an automatic which will peel off three rounds.”

Riveted by the information, Lila nodded. She was grateful that she’d had some rifle training. Declan and she had gone to firing ranges before she joined up and a worker there had given her some lessons. Still, to be in the army and learn to use it on a real person was a big deal. A necessary evil, she knew, but a life-changing occurrence, nonetheless.

She noticed, though, that some of the others were playing with the gun, looping the strap over their shoulders, not paying attention.

Unfortunately, so did the sergeant, who she’d begun to like despite his sternness. He knew what he was doing and presented material well. He stopped talking and strode down the aisle, his jaw tight. “Private Macon, did I tell you to put your gun over your shoulder?”

“No, sir.”

“Or point it out the window?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you remember how I ordered extreme caution when working with firearms?”

“It’s not loaded, is it?”

“If you don’t know that, why the fuck would you be so careless? My office now.”

“But—”

“Now!”

As Macon hung his head and exited, the sergeant said, “Anybody else want to join him?”

“No, sir.” The chorus came from everyone.

“Then pay goddamned attention to me.”

He began explaining again how the weapon worked, touching each part of it as he talked. “The trigger area has lots of space so gloves can be worn. You may freeze you ass off, but your fingers will stay nimble.”

Right now, because the Louisiana heat made Lila sweat through her uniform, that threat seemed far away.

“Look at the diagram on the screen in front. We’re gonna go over the parts of a rifle in case some of you assholes never used one.”

The swearing was expected but indicated his frustration. Lila was swearing too, now, mouthing vulgarity she’d never used before.

“First, there’re two handles. A charging handle when you’re getting ready to fire. That’s in front of the recoiling rubber pad at the butt of the gun. The carrying handle is here on top. Don’t confuse the two or you could kill yourself.”

Lila fingered each, reaffirming her knowledge.

He went down the length of the gun: the handguard, the bayonet, the flash suppressor.

“Underneath the weapon is the magazine. It’s crucial that you learn how to reload this in seconds.”

The magazine was heavy. And bumpy to the touch.

“Now run your fingers up to the release button. You’ll practice this until it becomes second nature.”

The training took all morning. Lila committed to memory any new piece of information she was given, and by noon, felt even more acclimated to the M162A.

Night Maneuvers

Suddenly, the lights went on. Lila’s eyes flew open, and before her vision could clear, she heard, “Get up, soldiers! Get dressed and get in line.”

They’d put their gear out the night before. Lila scrambled out of bed in a T-shirt and shorts and donned her shirt, then her pants and finished with her boots. She stood alert, despite how much her back hurt from training yesterday, and with exhaustion shooting through her veins.

“Well, all you sissies. One of the girls in the platoon beat you all.” He came toward her. “Good job, Private Carrier. Keep it up.”

The positive feelings about the rare praise coming from a drill sergeant disintegrated when they stepped out into blistering heat. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her clothes dampened and started to stick to her. In an hour, her feet felt pinched by the confines of her boots. By dawn, her back ached so badly she wasn’t sure she could go on.

But she did. She’d sacrificed too hard to get here and no way was she going to fail.

Three months later, before specialist training

“So Private Carrier. Your choice for your Military Operations Specialist is in the psychology unit.”

Lila stood at ease in front of the major’s desk. She’d been called in for her interview for the last phase of her training.

“I see you’ve received the top score in your unit for physical fitness.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ve accumulated awards points in rifle usage and written exams.”

Hmm, where was this going? She gave the same response.

“Delilah, sit.”

Unusual to use her first name. She sat, though, her posture erect, and gave him a small smile.

He returned it. “We don’t often get prepared enlistees like you. You’re an ideal candidate for Officer Training. Why didn’t you come in as an officer?”

“I decided against any high-powered position so I could be a wife, mother and soldier through the Guard.”

Glancing down, he checked her records again. “You join after college?”

“I had my papers in to do that, then I got married and had a child instead.”

“Too bad about all that. I wish you’d made other choices.”

So did her mother. She had a fit that once Lila finally got the opportunity to join, she enlisted. “I have family member who thinks the same thing.” And so did Lila, sometimes.

“All right. Let’s start with where you are today. I’m wondering if your MOS will be beneath you.”

“In what way, sir?”

“You have a Cornell degree in HR and psychology. A PhD in counseling.”

“But I need to become familiar with what the military needs are in this area.”

He leaned over and braced his arms on the desk. “All this makes your enlistment even more special. It’s one of the reasons the leaders of your platoon have been talking about a promotion. Your excellent performance and your qualifications garnered you the necessary points for advancement, so we’re making you E-5, or sergeant.”

“I hadn’t expected that.”

“You’ll be very valuable in studying the vulnerabilities and susceptibilities of psychological operation targets.”

“That means analyzing the enemy, right?”

“Yes. Are you up for that?”

“It sounds fascinating. And I’m honored.”

“It’s the least we can do. I’d still like it if you’d consider Officer Training.”

Her heart gave a little leap at what that might be like to climb the ranks of the army, and how proud her mother would be if she became an officer. Then she pictured Maggie’s sweet face and Declan waving goodbye to her. “I understand the advice. But I’m afraid that isn’t the way my life is going to go.”

“You’ll have to be ready to assume active duty when we need you.”

“That I can do.”

“Then congratulations, Sergeant.”

“Where’s Mommy?” Maggie asked. Dec held her hand in a group of relatives waiting for their loved ones to deplane.

“She’s getting off now.”

“I don’t see her.”

He lifted his daughter up on his shoulders. He’d dressed her in her favorite outfit: pink pants, flowered shirt and a tutu. “Keep looking.”

After a while, she said, “There she is.”

Lila appeared on the steps. He hadn’t seen her in six months and twenty days, and he couldn’t wait to touch her. She descended the steps gracefully, her eyes scanning the entire area. Finally they landed on him. Dec took Mags off his shoulders but held her up in his arms.

 Lila started forward. When she reached them, she threw her arms around both of Dec and Maggie. “Oh, my God, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Mommy. But you’re hugging me too tight.”

Declan let her down and Lila knelt in front of her daughter and caressed her face. “You’ve gotten taller.”

“An inch. You look different.”

“I had to cut my hair. It’s growing back, though.”

Her daughter nose scrunched. “I don’t like it.”

“Me, either,” Lila said, standing.

“Well, I do.” Declan picked his wife up and twirled her around. “I don’t care how short your hair is or how much weight you lost, you’re beautiful to me.”

“I missed you, Dec, more than I can say.” They’d communicated with letters and phone calls, but it wasn’t the same as in-person contact.

That night, after Maggie was in bed, Declan drew Lila on top of him. Both were naked and grinning. “I’m ready,” she said.

“Man, so am I.”

He brought her down on him and gripped her hips. Almost as soon as he began to move, they both went over the edge.

All was right with the world.

Except four weeks later, she sat on the toilet staring at the stick of the test, horrified.

“What does it say?” Dec asked. He was leaning against the jamb of the bathroom door.

“I’m pregnant again. I can’t believe it. I’m starting my new job tomorrow at the VA.”

Declan crossed to her, and, much like the last time, he knelt in front of her. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“Again! How could this happen again? I wasn’t ready for the first baby. I wanted to go into the Guard. Now I want to start that new job at the VA. It’s déjà vu. Fucking déjà vu.”

“We’ll cope. I promise. You can still go to work.”

“You started a new job. Your schedule in the ER is crazy. How will we cope with two kids now?”

“We will, I promise.”

She shook her head. “You just don’t understand.”

A noise at the door.

Five-year old Maggie stood there and understood exactly what she’d said.