Home Front

“Cuz she’s gone?” Lulu asked sleepily, fingering the small metal wings pinned to her bathing suit.

“Right. ”

“What if I get scareded?”

“It’s always scary on the first day,” Betsy said quietly. “But everyone will like you, Lulu. And you have a great teacher—Ms. MacDonald. I loved her. ”

“Oh,” Lulu said, sounding unconvinced.

Michael smiled. “Let me tell you what it’s like…”

As he talked to his youngest daughter about kindergarten and teachers and cubbies and recess, it was as if he were another man from another life. For years, he’d strived to make a difference in the world, and he’d worked like a dog to make that happen, and yet here he was, a man sitting on a dock with his children, and never had he felt more certain that his words mattered.

That was what Jolene had been trying to tell him every time he missed an event. It matters, she’d said.

“Okay, Daddy,” Lulu said at last. “I guess I can do that ’cause I’m a big girl now. If you hold my hand. And I’m taking my pink ribbon. ”

“Ah, Lulu,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. ”

Much later, when the girls had fallen asleep in their chairs, while the waves lapped along the pebbled shore and the stars shone down on them, his mother looked at him. “Jolene would be proud of you today,” she said quietly.

Michael looked at her, over Lulu’s dark head. “I let her down,” he said.

His mother nodded, smiling sadly, as if she’d known this all along.

* * *

September was a bloody month in the war. It seemed that every day a helicopter came back to base shot up. Hero missions and suicide bombers were commonplace now. Jolene had begun to avoid the Haji Mart altogether; she couldn’t stand thinking that the cute boy selling videos might someday have a bomb strapped to his chest. It had begun to rain in the past few days; the base had become a huge mud hole. The trailer’s cement floor looked like dirt. There was no way to get the viscous red mud off your boots.

Tonight, the sky was clear and black, spangled with stars. It occurred to her that only a few months ago a sky like this had made her think of her family at home, sleeping peacefully beneath the same stars. These days, she didn’t dwell on what was happening at home. She was too busy and exhausted to think about that. She was in the air constantly now, flying units into location, transporting workers to job sites, and flying Iraqi troops and civilian and military VIPs. More and more often, she flew air-assault missions, carrying troops to their mission-landing zones.

She walked beside Tami toward the trailer that housed the Charlie Company flight-planning room. They didn’t bother to talk; they were both too tired to make the effort. It was 2200, and they’d already flown two missions today. Yesterday had been even busier.

Jolene stepped up the muddy wooden steps and entered the trailer. The walls were covered with pieces of paper—schedules, reports, flyers, calendars. Every aircraft’s route was tracked from here. Computer screens sat on every desk. Here was where they stored all their machine guns and ammo and flight gear.

As she stepped into the trailer, the electricity snapped off and everything went dark. She heard someone say, “Shit. Again?”

Jolene knew the generator would kick in soon, but she was supposed to be at the helicopter in five minutes. “Zarkades, sir,” she said into the darkness. “You have a mission plan for Raptor eight-nine?”

There was a rustle of paper, then the creaking of footsteps on the plywood floor. “Air assault, Chief. You and Raptor four-two are going to Al Anbar. We have a marine unit trapped in a ditch. They’re taking heavy fire. ”

The generator started up; the lights came on.

Captain Will “Cowboy” Rossen was standing in front of her, holding out her orders.

“Yes, sir. ”

The captain nodded. “Be safe. ”

Jolene and Tami went to the small room attached to the op center and retrieved their things. Jolene put on her heavy vest with the Kevlar plating and grabbed her flight bag. As they walked down the muddy streets, it started to rain. She looked up, saw a layer of pale gray clouds cover the stars.

“Shit. Viz is deteriorating,” Jolene said.

They increased their pace, boots sloshing through the mud. Jolene felt Jamie come up beside her, but neither of them said anything as they headed to their aircraft. Then Smitty showed up, strapping his helmet on as he walked.

“Your turn in the left seat?” Tami said when the bird was checked out and ready to go.

Jolene nodded and climbed into the left seat and strapped herself in. She clicked the night-vision goggles onto her helmet and pulled them into place.