A Man Alone

I walked back to my guard position after giving Staff Sergeant Bruce Sullivan a parting look. What did he have against me? I placed my backpack onto the ground as I reached the revetment. Then pulled it in behind me. The sting of his rebuke remained fresh in my mind. I guess I'd expected him to go a little lighter on me. After all, he was a man, and men had always shown me some deference--even after I joined the military. I wasn't asking for special treatment--I knew better. But...well... he didn't seem to like me for some reason. One more thing not to like about this shithole of an outpost.

"What's the matter with you?" Corporal Kerri Burke asked as I settled in with a heavy sigh. This, as she raised the binoculars to look out the slit opening of the bunker.

"Kerri, Sullivan ripped me a new one. At least he didn't do it in front of anyone. I don't think he likes me at all for some reason."

"Adeela, you're still new to this. Sullivan doesn't like anyone at first, get used to it. He's seen enough combat that it's hardened him. He doesn't want to get too close to you, or any of the rest of us at first. It's not personal; it's his way of coping. At least until he knows he can trust you."

I looked at her, not quite believing what she was saying. True, as a Staff Sergeant he was responsible for our welfare. But he could be a little more understanding before we set off on patrol. But, I knew I had screwed up by not provisioning according to the checklist. It wasn't a suggestion, it was mandatory. I hoped she wasn't right. I had given him a reason not to trust me.

Over the past two weeks I had noticed men in the platoon knew just by the way he looked at them if he was unhappy. Those steel blue eyes seemed to pierce you--seeing everything, missing nothing. Perhaps that was what made me uncomfortable around him. I felt he could read my mind--he knew. At least I felt he did, how he affected me.

Had he noticed me studying him again with brief glances as we exercised in the weight room? When he was in his shorts and tee-shirt he was even more inviting. He was lean, compact, and ruggedly handsome with dark brown hair. I had tried hard not to stare the first few times I had seen him--but failed. He had seen me once, but then hadn't looked in my direction again.

At this remote outpost I was surrounded by men day in, and day out. Not that it was unusual in and of itself. That had always been the case in the past. But this base was compact with little room to find a place to be alone for privacy.

But, it was Staff Sergeant Sullivan my eyes had fallen upon with relish. He resisted my attempts to take them away, or to focus on another. Any other man would have taken instant advantage of my interest--Sullivan had not.

Maybe, he was one of those who thought Women Marines simply didn't belong attached to an infantry unit. These men were quick to throw the moniker 'Walking Mattresses' around. It was a show of disrespect, and machismo. I had heard it whispered, but had never had it directed specifically at me. I hoped it wasn't true of him--but I didn't know.

He had noticed I hadn't packed the required amount of water to save weight. He had laid into me with a quiet vengeance. He told me I was jeopardizing the welfare of the entire squad if we got into a tight spot and couldn't get support. I tucked my tail between my legs, promising not to repeat the mistake. He had turned on his heel without another word. What was most uncomfortable was that, unlike any other dressing down I had gotten, he didn't swear, or raise his voice. He just calmly looked at me, then stuck it to me in plain English. It was one of the most unnerving experiences I had ever had in the Corps--including boot camp.

I looked around at the barren mountainous landscape. Patches of snow were visible on nearby slopes where shade kept the sun from hitting the bare rock. After a month there, I appreciated the beauty of the mountains. My first few weeks had been miserable as I wasn't adapted to the lower oxygen level and physical demands. This was to be my first actual long-range patrol to a distant village. I had acclimated for weeks with short-distance trips to native villages nearby to interrogate the female population.

Kerri had explained more of their local customs to me over the past few weeks. We had the same job as translators--members of the Female Engagement Team, FET. Since there was strict separation of males from women in Afghanistan most aspects of their lives outside their immediate families, we served as important intermediaries. Foreign men were especially despised. If they looked at a woman for more than a second or two, it was a problem. Women were forbidden to look at, or speak to unrelated men in most villages. They quickly disappeared when Marines entered a village.

At first, I was viewed in much the same manner as the men. However, they couldn't refute the fact I was a female. A female with a gun, in company with many men with guns. The fact I had joined the Marines and knew Pashto and Dari had sealed my fate almost from day one.

Over time FET members established a relationship with the women by providing medical care and personal hygiene products. These were otherwise very limited, or not available. That personal approach had proven effective in gaining their trust.

Life fell into a routine of patrols every other day. My role was to surveil, and secure the women while male Marines talked with the men. I learned rather quickly I could learn a great deal more by just listening to the women talk among themselves. This, rather than ask them questions. I pretended not to understand their language, using gestures, and a few simple phrases to interact with them.

After a few visits to each village over three months the women began to speak freely, assuming I couldn't understand them. Not all of their comments regarding me were kind. I learned to keep a stone face, so as not to give myself away. Of course, wearing a helmet, and sunglasses helped--my face mostly concealed.

I was surprised one day while in a distant village when one of the women spoke fairly good English. She had asked me about the blue-eyed man who was in charge. The other women's expressions suggested they didn't approve of her conversation in another language with me. If they had known it regarded a man not related to her it would have been far worse than mere disapproval.

"Why is the blue-eyed man given the respect of an elder?" she asked with a puzzled expression.

"Because he is in charge. He is experienced, and responsible for the welfare of his people," I replied.

"You mean, those who come with him?"

"Yes."

She turned her gaze through the doorway to Sullivan, and studied him for a minute, then grew a smile. I followed her gaze wondering what it was she was seeing.

"He is a good looking man. Is he taken?"

"Do you mean is he married?"

"Yes, yes, that is the word--married."

"No, he is not."

She continued to study Sullivan, then looked at me again. "He looks strong, as if he would protect his wife, and make strong babies."

I was surprised at her words. I had never heard a native woman say such a thing about a foreign man. I was still pondering her words when she leaned towards me as if someone was near who would overhear and understand. "So, do the women... as you... what are the words... do the women use him?"

I looked at her not smiling. Was she asking me if we had sex with him? It seemed entirely out of character for a native woman to ask. It was wise to tread carefully. I decided to ask for clarification, in part with hand gestures.

"Are you asking if our women have sex with him?" taking the thumb and forefinger of one hand to form a circle, then the index finger of my other hand pushing it in and out a few times.

She looked at me with a timid smile, "Yes, sex you call it."

I returned her smile, "Yes, sex. No, we do not," as I shook my head to indicate no.

Her face showed a frown, "He is... not good... forbidden."

I kept a straight face. I was sure he would be good--at least, I had fantasied he would be. I looked into her eyes knowing what their women thought--men and women in the same kinds of clothes knew no bounds when they lived and worked so closely together. Even though it was largely untrue.

"He and the others are forbidden," I replied with a stern expression knowing the word she had not used was haram; probably so others would not make a connection.

I was tempted to take the opportunity to explain in her own language that we did not engage in sex with each other--but decided against it. If they knew I could understand their language my advantage in getting information would be compromised. I had already learned several things that had saved lives over these past few months.

She looked at me in complete surprise, "All! All are forbidden?"

I nodded in the affirmative.

She looked at me again, her face earnest. "Our families often pick who we marry. Is that why you do not... do... sex? Marriage first."

This was getting a little too complicated. How do I explain many women have sex with whomever they want even before marriage? Their families have nothing to say in the matter. I knew about the different cultural norms of our two societies, but this was not the time or place to discuss, or debate them.

"Our families do not, a woman decides who she marries."

She looked at me, then pointed her finger at my face, "You... you decide! How is that so? You can have blue-eyed man?"

At that moment, I was thankful for the call to rejoin the squad. How do you explain it's more complicated than that? That a man and woman have the freedom to choose to be together, but it leads to another set of problems--another set of emotions that must be attended to.

I looked at her, "What's your name?"

"I am called, Ahlum."

I smiled, it meant: A quick-witted and sharp woman. It seemed to fit her perfectly.

"I am Adeela. Perhaps another time we will talk. Peace to you."

I rejoined the squad as we walked slowly out of the village with our heavy loads. I was now in great physical shape, no longer needing to lighten my pack for patrol. Not that it would have been wise to do so anyway. Staff Sergeant Sullivan seemed to have taken a special interest in me--inspecting my gear before we left each time. Never saying a word, his blue-eyes looked into my soul. They weren't always cold eyes, there were times when I thought I saw a hint of tenderness in them. He always appeared to be professional, not taking an interest in me as a woman. As a Marine yes, as it was the way he treated everyone assigned to him on a patrol.

Sullivan seldom said a word to me unless absolutely necessary. All of the other men certainly paid Kerri and me all the attention we might ever want. Two women among forty men made you popular beyond belief. It took a while to get used to living in a remote combat outpost where privacy was never in abundance--there were always eyes.

"Corporal Mitri, do you have anything for me?" Sullivan asked me once we had gotten outside the village.

"No. The woman I was speaking to wanted to know more about our culture. She spoke passable English, so I spent more time talking with her. I'm interested in finding out where she was educated as she is the first I've ever met in these villages who speaks English."

"Mitri, be careful. If she spends too much time with you they will think she's not one of them and will kill her. She should know better," his expression hard.

I didn't reply. Though he was probably right--it had been risky for her to speak to me. I wondered now about where she came from, and how she came to be here. Of even more interest, why had she taken such an interest in Staff Sergeant Sullivan? I smiled to myself, thinking maybe he was the blue-eyed devil in her eyes--a local woman seduced by his masculine features, and behavior. It was then I wondered if it was the same for me. The answer I arrived at was an easy one, and it made me uncomfortable.

It was three hours on the narrow trail before we would reach base. I was lost in thought when the first rounds hit the rocks, and ricocheted around us. I jumped behind a large boulder, unslung my rifle looking for the source of the incoming fire. The adrenaline rush had my heartbeat drumming hard in my ears--this was the first time I had ever been under fire. I glanced around me, and saw the men had taken cover, looking for the source. I quickly calmed myself, though the urge to urinate was uncomfortable. Several of the guys told me it happens the first time you understand someone is trying to kill you.

Whoever was firing at us must have been quite some distance away as their rounds scattered widely around the area. The fire hadn't been directed at a specific target--though it didn't matter, all it would take was one lucky round to find someone. It would definitely make for a bad day. Sullivan located the source of the fire, and directed several of the squad to return automatic weapons fire. In a few minutes, the area was quiet with no incoming rounds. It was harassment fire--they wanted us to know we'd been seen and followed.

Once back into base camp I went to the operations center to log my report of contacts, including Ahlum. I hadn't overheard any conversation among the women offering useful intelligence--only that I was a she-man, not a true woman.

That night I told Kerri about Ahlum to get her reaction. She was surprised when I told her she seemed to have taken a specific interest in Sullivan. She looked at me with a smile, "That man can draw a woman in that's for sure."

I winced at her words, knowing that in some odd way it applied to me. As much as I tried to tell myself I didn't like him as a person I knew it wasn't true. I had to admit he knew his job. He took good care of his Marines, including me. He didn't have to be likable to do his job, just effective. I had to admit all the men on the base gave him his due, even those who were of equal rank, or above. He had the kind of earned respect not given due to rank alone.

I started hearing gossip about some of the things he had done from the men over the past weeks. Men didn't talk to Kerri and me the way they talked among themselves--most treated us as if we were their sisters; though their language was rough. A few made subtle passes to judge receptiveness, but backed off immediately when no interest appeared. What the talk revealed was Sullivan was a brave, dedicated, and smart man. He was calm under fire, and able to quickly evaluate a situation, make a decision, and act upon it. He hadn't lost a man yet and he was nearing the end of his second tour. True, there had been injuries due to combat, but no one had died while under his charge.

I would like to say he was a quiet man, but he really wasn't that either. I guess I would say he was observant, and reserved. Occasionally, Sullivan checked Terri, and me to ensure we were prepared for our next mission; even if it were not with him. What came to me was he cared in a way that was different from any other man I had ever met.

It was a week later when I was to patrol with Sullivan that we met for the usual pre-mission briefing. It was then he told us to pack an extra two days rations, a sleeping bag, along with a two-person tent. We were to form pairs for the tent in case we were hit by a storm that would force us to remain in the mountains overnight. All of the guys quickly paired up, leaving me standing alone. Sullivan turned to me not smiling, business as usual written across his face.

"Mitri, that leaves you with me. I'll take the sleeping bags while you take the tent. Okay, everyone, we leave at 0530 hours. Get your rest."

It was dusk as I walked into the hooch to join Terri. I told her what Sullivan was having us do to prepare. I told her I thought it was overkill to pack all that extra gear. I was thankful he hadn't mentioned the tent was lighter than carrying two sleeping bags, and I realized he had done it intentionally.

"Adeela, I heard that Sullivan grew up in California, and backpacked the Sierra Nevada year around. He must have read the weather reports, and saw something the rest of us didn't see--I'd trust him. Just think, you might get an opportunity to get up close, and personal with him if you have to share the tent."

"Oh, joy! Just what I was looking for. Share a tent with a man who's as unromantic as they come," I replied sarcastically.

She smiled, "Well, you could see if you could persuade Brooks to trade partners. I'm sure he would keep you warm enough."

"You know Terri, that's not even funny. I'd rather deal with someone not interested in my body than one who wouldn't leave me alone."

She laughed, "Just sayin', Sullivan may have his good side. At least you don't have to worry about using one of your condoms."

The next morning dawned with blue skies and a few high, streaky clouds. The morning chill was still on as we started out. By mid-morning, we were nearing the village where Ahlum lived. I was wondering if I would see her again. I saw a young man herding goats on the mountainside as we neared the village, and watched as he quickly disappeared. They would know we were close now--the mountains had eyes.

Intelligence had reported the movement of enemy troops into the general area, and we expected contact at some point. I was searching the sides of the mountain as were everyone else in the squad. We entered the village without incident, and Staff Sergeant Sullivan met with the village elders as I went to stand near a group of women. They quickly entered a stone house with smoke coming out of the chimney. I walked over, and peered inside, giving a greeting as I entered. The women in this village tended to be the least friendly of any I interacted with.

The women didn't smile, just looked at me. There was no evidence of weapons, so I turned my gaze outside, glancing behind me once in a while. After a few minutes, one of the women told the others it was best not to talk to me as Ahlum had done. I listened closely, and learned word had gotten around she had spoken with me. About half an hour before we arrived she had been escorted from the village to be exiled. She was allowed to take only the clothes on her back. It was essentially a death sentence. I felt heartbroken as I realized Sullivan may have been right.

I also learned she had been sent to her father's people in this village, so a suitable husband could be selected for her. There had been contentious discussions that ended without a serious proposal for a husband. Another round of talks over the following days had failed to produce a suitable match the families could agree upon.

The life of these people was hard, and it seemed the education Ahlum had received was more than one strike against her. She was of no value to the men of the village, only a liability now that fighters had arrived in the area--Ahlum was expendable. Then, a woman murmured that one of the fighters had entered the village the previous day seeking information on our activity, and the location of our base. He had left with food and information.

Once the meeting with the elders concluded, I bade the women goodbye, and rejoined the squad. We started back towards our base in a file. I was thinking it was time to brief Sullivan on what I had heard. After I told him, he told me the elders appeared nervous--he suspected the rebels had visited them. My report confirmed his suspicions, and for the first time he smiled at me, "Good work, Mitri."

Now that doesn't sound like much in terms of praise. But, to me it was affirmation I had contributed in a substantial way to the mission. The other men who had heard my report were impressed enough to give me a thumbs up. I felt very much a useful member of the team for the first time ever. The weight of my backpack seemed just a little lighter. It was about that time I felt the wind stiffen and grow cooler. Looking up, I saw a mass of darker clouds appearing over the highest peak--the blue sky disappeared, replaced by angry-looking gray clouds.