Jason's Story
Copyright© 2025 by writer 406
Chapter 3
The decision came to Staff Sgt. Jason Stone during a mission in Afghanistan. He was laying prone in an OP that overlooked a nameless hamlet in Kunar Valley at 0300 hours. His team had been watching Taliban fighters move weapons through a village below. There was a full moon, which made noting positions and counting personnel easy. He was preparing to call in coordinates for a fire mission. It was routine work that they all could do in their sleep by now.
But this night something felt different. Not the mission fatigue that came and went with deployments, not the accumulated stress of twelve years of military service. This was deeper—a sudden quiet recognition that he wanted this chapter of his life to be over.
Staff Sgt. Eddie Martinez was watching beside him. “You’re awful quiet tonight, Stony,” He whispered. “Even for you.”
“Just thinking. This is my last time doing this.”
“Yeah? You thinking about getting out?”
“Yup. Thinking about getting out.”
Martinez was quiet for a moment. They’d served together a long time and had been through a lot of shit. “You sure about that? You’re pretty good at this shit. Maybe even really good.”
Jason nodded slowly. “That’s part of the problem. I’m thirty years old, and I’ve spent my entire adult life doing this job. It’s time to see what else I can do.”
The realization stayed with him through the rest of the deployment. Jason had always known military service wouldn’t be forever, but he’d never seriously considered what came after. The Army had given him structure, purpose, and brotherhood. It had taken a raggedy-ass street kid and turned him into a professional--someone who could be counted on when things went sideways.
But, the life had also resulted in a divorce. Work in the Teams was not conducive to a happily-ever-after married life. Sarah had tried. He didn’t blame her. He would have left his ass too if he had been her.
But twelve years of deployments in a hot war had also given him memories and shown him things about himself that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. He was very good at violence—frighteningly good. His personal code kept him grounded and human, but he could feel the weight of all those calculated decisions accumulating. Seventeen confirmed kills in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria. Not counting miscellaneous kills in firefights. But it wasn’t those numbers that bothered him but the faces of others he remembered, buddies gone by way of Dover, friends and families he’d watched die.
War, especially guerilla war, was not kind to civilians caught in the middle.
Back at Ft. Campbell, Jason began the process of transitioning out. His commanding officer, Colonel Bradley, called him in for a counseling session.
“Sgt. Stone, I’m not going to lie. Losing you is a blow. Your performance evaluations are outstanding, your teammates respect you, and you’ve got the kind of operational experience we can’t easily replace.”
“I understand, sir. It’s not an easy decision.”
“What’s driving it? Career progression? You could be looking at Sergeant Major down the line, or a Warrant if you wanted to go that route.”
Jason had thought about this conversation for months. “Sir, I’ve been doing this work since I was eighteen. I’ve been good at it, and I’ve been proud to do it. But I think I need to find out who I am when I’m not a soldier.”
Bradley leaned back in his chair. “That’s honest. The transition is going to be a struggle. Do you have any idea what you want to do?”
“Not specifically, sir. But I’ve got skills beyond just military operations. The language training, the cultural knowledge, the ability to read people and situations. I figure there’s got to be a way to use those skills without carrying a weapon. I’m thinking I might go back to school.”
The transition process was both bureaucratic and emotional: medical evaluations, career counseling, benefits briefings. But the hardest part was saying goodbye to the team. His team threw a going-away party at a local bar, and Jason found himself reflecting on how these relationships had shaped him.
“You know what I’m going to miss most?” Breaker Ames said, already three beers in. “The way you could walk into any situation and just ... figure it out. Didn’t matter if it was a firefight or a negotiation with village elders. You always knew what to do.”
“I learned from good people,” Jason replied.
Doc raised his beer. “To Stoney. The only guy I know who could kill you seventeen different ways but would rather talk than fight.”
The toast was both affectionate and accurate. Jason had become somewhat of a legend in the Group. Someone who could apply violence with surgical precision but understood that the real skill was knowing when not to use it.
On his last day, Jason cleaned out his locker, packed his gear, and walked across the base he’d called home for most of his adult life. He thought about the eighteen-year-old who had walked into the recruiting station with his high school diploma and birth certificate. That kid had been looking for structure and purpose. The Army had given him all of that and more.
He thought of Mr. Finnegan as he often did. He hoped he’d done the old man proud. He’d sure tried to.
His savings account had grown substantially over twelve years of deployments. Combat pay, his natural thriftiness and the simple fact that there wasn’t much to spend money on in a remote village had provided him with a solid financial cushion. He could afford to take time figuring out his next move.
The question was: who was he when he was no longer a soldier?
The 2011 Ford F-150 was the first brand-new vehicle he had ever owned. It was metallic gray with a crew cab and a 5.0-liter V8. He had paid cash, which had surprised the salesman at Pennyrile Ford in Hopkinsville.
Loading his stuff into the truck took no time at all. Two duffel bags of clothes, two footlockers full of books, another with his dress uniforms and military memorabilia, and his laptop. That was it. Everything else he had either given away or sold.
He’d picked Seattle as a destination. There was nothing for him in Chicago and he was tired of deserts. The rain sounded good. The drive there would take him through states he had never really seen. Now, for the first time since he was eighteen, he had nowhere specific to be and no timeline to meet.
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