Chapter 11

The image of the dead men in the MI Hummer popped into my head a bunch in the week after the ambush but working in and on the clinic in the village of Az Basan was excellent therapy. Sunday morning, five days after the ambush, me, 2LT Baker, SGT Kennedy and two other soldiers were in the clinic with donated brushes, rollers and Robin’s egg blue paint. At 1400hrs a cargo truck from the engineer battalion showed up with two heavily used eight-foot tables and a dozen beat up folding chairs. By four in the afternoon the drab space was transformed.

Three days later I returned from duty as the medic at the FOB firing range. We were training with real Claymore Mines that SFC Edwards found in the ammo conex. Edwards culled out two dozen Claymores that were older than me. The Department of Defense said the mines were good indefinitely because the C-4 didn’t degrade with time, but Edwards wasn’t going to risk one failing or blowing up in our faces in the field. I was stoked because I got to blow one up.

I was headed to my room when a runner from the FOB Headquarters came for me. When I asked what was going on, he shrugged.

“I’m just the runner, man. No one tells me shit.”

So, I turned around and followed him to the FOB headquarters. Outside the headquarters building two guys in civilian clothes were sitting in the shade, both atop large rolling cases. As I walked up, they jumped off the boxes. Both men wore casual civilian clothes. One wore Khaki pants and a blue polo, the other was in blue jeans and an FBI windbreaker.

“Specialist Pulaski?” windbreaker dude asked.

“That’s me,” I replied.

He flipped open a black case and flashed me a badge and some sort of ID.

“I’m Special Agent Bill Jefferies, I’m the FBI resident agent in Iraq and this is Jim Carson a consular representative from the United States Embassy in Bagdad. These crates were sent via Diplomatic Courier from the Icelandic United Nations Consulate in New York City for delivery to you. Any idea what’s in them?”

Jefferies spoke to me as if I were on trial.

I took an immediate dislike to him and answered accordingly.

“What are you talking about? I’m not a diplomat and I couldn’t find Iceland on a map. I’m just a freaking combat medic in the Ranger Regiment.”

“Then you shouldn’t mind showing us what’s in them,” Jefferies said, pointing to the boxes.

By then a dozen or so heavily armed Rangers were standing behind me giving Jefferies the fisheye.

“Everything copasetic, Doc?” Lieutenant Albert asked. And he wasn’t even attempting to sound friendly either.

“I don’t know, Sir. Special Agent Jefferies here thinks I’m smuggling something in these cases,” I replied.

My buddies started grumbling among themselves and Albert gestured for them to be quiet.

“Are you?” the LT asked.

“No, Sir, I don’t have a clue about what’s in them,” I answered.

“So open them up and let’s take a peek before Special Agent Jefferies makes himself any less popular.”

I nodded and used my Leatherman to break the seal on both boxes. Flipping up the lids revealed closely packed cardboard boxes of various sizes. There was an envelope addressed to me on top of the contents of one of the boxes. I ripped open the envelope, read the note, and started laughing.

Jefferies gave me a frown.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

I read the note aloud.

“You still haven’t said what’s in the boxes, Specialist Pulaski, and now we know you were expecting this stuff, so it wasn’t really a surprise. Who is this Melissa anyway?” Jefferies said.

I could have just told him, but what would be the fun in that? Besides he was still acting like a jackass.

“You have my permission to open and examine anything in these cases. It’s all just donations for children being treated in the village clinic. As for Melissa. lend me your SAT phone, and we can call her. She can tell you herself,” I said all reasonable like.

He handed me the phone. I pulled Melissa’s number out of my wallet and dialed it. It was nine in the morning back in Palmdale, so I was positive she was awake. She answered on the third ring.

“Missus T, this is Johnny. Thank you so much for helping Mickie. We are going to make some children very happy. I hate to bother you ma’am but an FBI Agent and some man from the US Embassy are accusing us of smuggling because of the way you sent the kids’ stuff. Would you talk to them?”

“You’re kidding?” she asked, and she sounded incredulous.

“No, Ma’am,” I said, “I am as serious as a heart attack. Special Agent Jefferies is right here would you like to speak to him?”

“Yes I would, but put the phone on speaker please, Johnny,” she said sweetly.

I found the speaker button and pressed it.

“Okay, Missus T, we’re on speaker,” I said.

“Mister Jefferies, hello, can you hold for a minute? I’m calling someone who can vouch for me.”

I think Jefferies began to see he might have stepped on his dick, but his ego wouldn’t let him back down.

He mumbled, “Okay.”

Numbers being dialed filtered through the tinny speaker then someone answered.

“Mellie, this is a pleasant surprise. How are you and Jake?” said a woman with a pleasant voice.

“We’re all fine Gwen. Just so you are aware we are on a conference call with a base in Iraq. I know how busy you must be, but I need you to vouch for me. One of your agents suspects me of smuggling because I had Torvi send some children’s supplies to a medical clinic in a small Iraqi village,” Melissa said.

“What is this agent’s name?” Gwen asked.

“Jefferies, Madame Attorney General,” Melissa answered dramatically.

I thought Jefferies was about to have a seizure when he heard it was the Attorney General on the phone.

“Agent Jefferies are you there?” the AG asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he gulped.

“Are you still wanting to accuse the former First Lady of the United States of America of being a smuggler?”

“No, Ma’am!” he stuttered.

“Okay then, wrap it up and get out of there ... and have the Embassy SAC e-mail me your After-Action Report. That ought to be interesting reading.”

Jefferies ‘yes ma’amed’ himself off the phone then turned towards me, angry and embarrassed.

“That clears a couple of people, Pulaski, but not you or your girlfriend. She could have used Missus Turner as cover and slipped something illegal in there. Open some of those boxes,” he ordered, his tone nasty and accusing.

I rolled my eyes and started unpacking the cases. As I opened the cardboard cartons I was pleasantly surprised at their contents. Mickie and Melissa found everything I requested and more. The contents were about half medical supplies and half daycare items, including a big box stuffed with lollypops. My platoon mates were still standing around watching. I had to smile when I noticed that they were making it a point to stand close to Jefferies and a silent and concerned looking Jim Carson.

I uncovered a cardboard tube about 18 inches long at the bottom of the first case. Jefferies pounced on the tube, snatching it out of my hands.

“That doesn’t look like medical supplies,” he growled.

He grabbed the tube and pulled off the plastic end cap. He peeked into the tube and then pulled out a glossy rolled up piece of paper. Jefferies unrolled the paper and whistled. He turned the paper around and showed it to me.

“Who is this?” he asked.

It was a poster of Mikayla wearing the Ranger hoody she scammed me out of. Unlike the original snapshot she sent me on my cell phone, this one was professionally done, and the hoody had been tailored to emphasis her spectacular figure and long legs. She was in full model makeup, her hair blonde long and blond. ‘I love you, Johnny’ was written across the bottom in sparkly gold Sharpie. Mickie had fulfilled my wish that the snapshot become a poster in her usual spectacular fashion. And now here we were with some dip shit FBI weasel slobbering all over it. It really, really, pissed me off!

“It’s my property, give it to me or I going to take it from you and put my boot up your ass,” I said demanded and I took a step toward him.

Jefferies looked as if he was ready to rumble. He started to snatch the poster back until a couple of my platoon mates crowded closer to him. He reversed direction and handed the poster and tube to me.

“We still have the other boxes to examine,” said Jefferies officiously.

Mister Carson, who had stood quietly throughout the drama, finally said something.

“No, you don’t, Bill. It’s time to go,” Mister Carson said forcefully.

Jefferies started to object but then shrugged his shoulders and stomped off.

“Jefferies is an excellent agent and usually his tenacity is one of his better qualities. This time it isn’t. I wish to apologize on behalf of the Embassy, and I wish you well Specialist Pulaski,” Carson said, and he too walked away towards the Chinook they arrived on.

My buddies all crowded around to look at the poster. Lieutenant Albert shook head and walked away.

“You are some piece of work, Doc. I wonder what terrible sin I committed to deserve being stuck with you?” he mumbled.

I was excited when, two days later, me, my best friend and newly promoted Sergeant Jerome Pettis, LT Baker, and a couple of her folks, took my newly acquired loot to the Az Basan clinic. In addition, I now had a beat-up old desk and a home-made exam table compliments of the combat engineers. The room was a million times nicer than it had been. When Captain Garza and Lakota showed up at 1300, the room was set up. Five children were sitting at the tables coloring or drawing, and I was treating one little boy with a slightly infected skinned knee. Being here with the little kids soothed my soul.

That same week SFC Edwards told me I was going before the E-5 (Sergeant) promotion board in three weeks. I was both excited and nervous about appearing before the board. I met all the requirements for promotion to sergeant, but the board had to recommend me. SSG Ruiz volunteered to help me prepare. I don’t know why I needed to know that the thing on top of a flagpole was called a ‘truck’ to be a Sergeant, but if asked I knew the answer.

As was its wont, time passed at FOB Hawkeye. It passed faster the busier I stayed, so I kept myself busy. When I wasn’t training or patrolling, I worked at the Hawkeye medical facility or volunteered at the Az Basan clinic. I put in one or two half days a week in Az Basan. When I wasn’t needed at the clinic, I explored the small village and got to know some of the village residents. I wasn’t especially friendly with any of them, but we had nodding acquaintance. After three or four trips to the clinic I began to recognize some of the children who came in and by extension, their mothers. I would smile and exchange polite greetings with the women. Some of them were very attractive, but I was very careful to keep any interaction respectful and professional.

I was disinfecting my exam table one Tuesday in the late afternoon when Captain Garza stopped by to chat. The clinic was quiet as I had just shooed the last tyke out the door, so the room was empty.

“Specialist Pulaski, you have done a wonderful job of fixing up this room, and it’s wonderful how you relate to the children. They all love you,” she said.

And then she paused, and I knew from experience that there was a big BUT coming. And sure enough, she didn’t disappoint. I glanced over her shoulder and Ms. Amir, the Nurse Practitioner who ran the clinic was leaning against the door jamb, her arms folded across her chest. Ms. Amir wore her usual stern expression, and I didn’t think she knew how to smile.

“But the thing is, Specialist...”

She stopped, paused, and started again.

“ ... the thing is a few of the women seem interested in you romantically and they are making it a point of being here any time you are. You must have noticed how they dress and that they remove their hijabs (head scarfs) in here. Ms. Amir feels that you are becoming more of a distraction than an asset. She wants you to take some time off from coming here.”

I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, struck speechless by the unfairness.

“You can’t do that!” I sputtered. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Captain Garza made a placating gesture with her hands.

“Take it easy Specialist Pulaski, no one is accusing you of anything,” she said.

“I don’t believe that for a minute, Ma’am. I put a lot into this and I’m crazy about these kids. That’s my only motivation. I know Missus Amir doesn’t like me but if you two think something different, you are way off base,” I said.

Garza frowned but just shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter what I think because we are guests here, so the decision is not mine to make,” she said.

It pissed me off that Garza didn’t have my back. She lost my respect right that instant. I didn’t respond. I just walked out.