Chapter 2

May 2014 – Chicago

"Fitz, I hope you're finally calling to tell me you've slipped the clutches of your girls and you can finally get away to play a little golf this weekend, especially since spring has finally arrived!"

David Ryan heard his friend chuckle as he replied, "No such luck David. I think you can book me in about five years when they go off to college!"

"Don't they ever take a break from swimming, volleyball, softball or whatever they're playing now?"

"Hell, I don't know, I'm just the transporter!" And anyway you've been through it with Megan and Jessica, so you should understand..."

"No, not really, that was Keri doing the fetching and hauling..." His voice trailed off, realizing that Fitz didn't have a 'Keri' to do those things.

"Sorry Fitz, sometimes I forget, you're all they have now..."

David's thoughts blossomed with a mental picture of Fritz's wife, Naomi – beautiful, vibrant her life cut short by cancer in her mid-thirties. Much too young. And he thought about how Keri had stepped up while Naomi was being treated, and after, helping with Fitz's girls, Anwen and Jessamy, their god-daughters. His own daughters had pitched in too. It was times like this that he remembered the caring supporting loving Keri who he had married, and not the self-absorbed, workaholic she'd become – the type of woman who could have an affair with John Wiley. He wondered how long it would take before the hurt and feelings of betrayal would go away. Thank God he had Teresa.

"Don't worry about it David, it gives me an excuse to take time from work and I never begrudge the time I spend with the girls."

David could detect the sorrow in his friend's voice. He knew the past five years had been tough on Fitz. He was a brilliant surgeon who had all the trappings of success and two beautiful daughters, but his soul mate was gone. It was as if his life had been put on hold the day she died. David felt blessed that he had met Teresa and she loved him and they were going to bring a new life into the world soon. He wished his friend could find that kind of happiness again.

Changing the subject and injecting some humor he asked, "Bought a minivan yet?"

"No but I had to get a bigger SUV ... one with three rows of seats to haul all their gear and friends and teammates. I'm actually looking forward to the day they can drive themselves!" He was happy to hear his friend laugh.

"Yeah, I know, and before you know it they're gone ... off to all the stuff they have to do at school and with friends, and then off to college." David said wistfully.

"Speaking of college, how are Megan and Jessica doing?"

"I'm off to sunny California next week for their graduation. Hardly seems like they're old enough..."

"Teresa not going?"

David paused as he considered his answer. "The girls did invite her, but with the pregnancy and of course Keri is going to be there ... not that Teresa's afraid of Keri, it's just Teresa's too smart to want to get in the middle of this. The girls will be home in Chicago for a few weeks after graduation anyway so we'll see lots of them."

"Keri giving you any trouble?"

"No, not really ... it's just that sometimes it seems she can't grasp that we're divorced, and I'm remarried, and that I'm not going to come back home and beg her to take me back."

Fitz knew better. Keri was also his friend. "Sounds like a coping mechanism."

"Is that a professional opinion, Doctor Williams?" laughed David.

"No I'll leave that up to the head shrinkers, I'm just a lowly head surgeon after all."

"I've actually suggested to Keri she see a professional ... but she just shrugs it off. Anyway, enough about my possibly crazy ex, how are you doing? You didn't call to invite me to a wedding did you?"

"Not unless Teresa has wised up and given you the heave-ho, and has decided to take me up on my offer!" he chuckled.

"No chance Fitz. She's stuck with me the father of her child!" He laughed in return.

"So speaking of children how's Siofra?"

"That girl has me wrapped pretty much and my twins have been giving her pointers. It's not fair, four women to one guy. That's why I'm hoping for a boy this time!"

"David, you're a hell of a lucky guy..."

Even though he tried to hide it, David heard the loss in his friend's voice, and said, "I know I am Fitz ... and I also know that you'll never stop loving Naomi ... it's just I'd like to see you as happy as I am..."

'Thanks David. At least you're not like Victoria, trying to fix me up with every woman she knows plus a few strangers."

They both laughed. David was glad to hear the humor had returned to his friend's voice, and asked "So, since you're not calling to schedule golf, what's up?"

"David I need a small favor."

"You got it Fitz ... well except for Teresa of course!" He then turned serious. "You've never cashed in all the chips I owe you."

Suddenly in was February 1991 again for David. They had been part of the Second Light Armor Recon Battalion, Second Marine Division which moved into Kuwait three days ahead of the start of Operation Desert Storm. David was a twenty-four year old reserve lieutenant who had been called up, and Fitz, just nineteen, was the corpsman assigned to his platoon.

"Christ, Doc, where the hell did you come from?" Lieutenant David Ryan asked as he put down his rifle and watched 'Doc' Jamison low-crawl through the open doorway into the little shop off the main street where he'd taken refuge. The Iraqi ambush had rained RPGs, mortar and machinegun fire down on the small group of scouts he was leading. David was propped against a blue-painted stucco wall trying unsuccessfully to get a battle dressing around his thigh. His hands were shaking from shock and his leg was bleeding badly from shrapnel wounds.

The sounds of the battle going on outside was a testament to the size of the force they were facing. His platoon of four Light Armored Vehicles (LAVs) was on point for the battalion and he had gotten out of his LAV with his radioman and taken four of his men to reconnoiter the edges of a town a few miles inside Kuwait. They had probably not come more than fifty yards down the dust covered two-lane macadam that made up the main street, when the Iraqis sprung the ambush. It appeared that he and his small force were vastly outnumbered. He was glad he hadn't ordered the LAVs into the confines of the town. He was also glad the Iraqis were nervous and trigger happy and had sprung the ambush too soon.

Fitz, then known only as 'Doc, ' the universal name for Navy Corpsmen who provided combat medical support for the Marines, knelt down beside him and opened his medical kit. He had David move his hand from where it held the battle dressing on his thigh. His trouser leg was soaked with blood which welled up from numerous deep wounds caused by jagged pieces of shrapnel.

Doc grinned at his wounded superior as he finished cutting away the material and exposing the wounds. "Well Lieutenant ... I was in the neighborhood and even though I usually don't make house calls I thought I'd check to see if you had any cigarettes."

"Sorry, Doc I don't smoke ... and come to think of it I don't think you do either."

Fitz smiled as he applied a compress with one hand and grabbed the tools of his trade from his bag."

"Sir, just figured if I was going to start ... well now would be the time..."

"Doc, those things will kill you." He laughed.

Fitz continued his work on David's leg as they listened to the noise of battle outside the doorway – the door was long gone, as was everything in the place, looted by the Iraqis, no doubt. The sharp report of the 25 millimeter cannons mounted on the LAVs, joined by their machineguns and three-round bursts coming from the rifles of the other Marines as they responded to the attack, made things pretty noisy outside. The Iraqis continued their fire as one of their heavy machineguns opened up, augmenting the explosions caused by the RPGs that seemed to be all around them. Finally Fitz replied, "You're probably right sir, plus my mother wouldn't like it!"

David knew what Doc Jamison was doing – he was taking David's mind off his wounds and the possibility that they might not get out of this town much less this shop alive.

"You married sir?"

David gritted his teeth as he felt Jamison probe the wounds trying to locate the shrapnel. He tried to remain stoic but it hurt like hell now the initial shock was wearing off.

"Yeah ... her name's Keri..."

"Nice name. Any kids?"

"Not yet..."

"What's she think about being married to a Marine?"

"Ahhhhh!"

"Sorry sir. I think I got most of the big stuff ... I need to close these up so I can get a handle on the bleeding. It'll hurt a bit. I can give you something to ease the pain."

"No, but thanks Doc, I think I need to have a clear head for a while longer."

"Okay sir ... so what about your wife?"

"Oh ... yeah..." He said between gritted teeth as Fitz start putting in the sutures. She always ... thought ... thought me being in the reserves ... meant going to drills once a month and summer camp for a couple of weeks ... and to the Marine Corps Ball every November ... never even thought about me being called up ... She wasn't very happy."

"She okay now?"

David laughed, despite the pain in his leg. "Keri's an organizer and ... you'd think this was World War Two for the way..." He paused biting back the pain. The way ... she has the unit wives organized and getting packages sent to me and the whole unit. I'd be surprised she hasn't got a war bond drive going plus collecting scrap metal!"

They both chuckled.

"How about you Doc, anyone special at home?"

"Not really sir. The girl I was dating senior year stopped writing about the time I graduated boot camp."

"Too bad."

"Saves me having to worry about writing letters ... except to my folks of course."

"So where you from?" David felt bad that he didn't know the members of his platoon as well as he should, especially his corpsman, but things had been rushed between the time he was called up and then getting deployed and integrated into the company and battalion.

"Chicago, south side."

"So a White Sox fan?"

"You know Chicago sir?"

"I'm from the Wrigley Field side of the city. We suffer for the Cubs."

They both laughed.

"Last year the Sox won ninety-four games, Oakland won a lot more."

"Yeah, that's tough, but hard to sympathize when the Cubbies were seventy-seven and eighty-five."

"Guess there are some advantages to being from the South Side!" Fitz replied.

"Plus you Sox fans get a new ballpark this season. Spring training's right around the corner."

Doc Jamison cocked his head at the now sporadic gunfire from outside and said, "A trip to sunny spring training sounds pretty good right now. I can practically taste the hot dogs ... damn sight warmer too I expect. Who said the desert was hot anyway?" To punctuate his statement a chilly gust of wind came through the doorway and brought with it the ever-present dust and the smell of gunpowder.

He paused and then said, "My dad and I went to the last game at old Comiskey. He's had season tickets forever. He owns a Chevy dealership, invites his people and clients - says it helps him sell cars."

At that point David realized Doc was finished and as he stowed his instruments he also realized the kid had done a quick and very professional job – not just patching him up but also keeping him distracted as he worked on his wounds. Now it was time to be the platoon leader again.

"Doc, how'd you know where to find me?"

Fitz paused for a moment considering his answer. "Gunny Rodriguez had me standing by incase 'that newbie Lieutenant got his ass shot off'.'" He'd done a passable imitation of Gunnery Sergeant Rodriquez, the platoon sergeant. "I watched you and the other scouts deploy and when the ambush started I saw you duck into this place."

"What about the other guys?"

"When last seen they were holed up in the building across the street."

"Is that where Corporal Jones is? I need the radio."

Fitz looked away for a second and then back, his eyes filled with sorrow. "He got hit by the same RPG as you did sir ... He was gone when I got to him ... nothing I could do."

Jones' death hit David pretty hard. He had lost one of his Marines. The big black kid from Alabama had been a quiet stabilizing presence in the platoon,

"Where's the radio?"

"Still with him. Things were too hot out in the street to try to get it ... or him ... even for the other scouts."

"How far away is he?" David didn't want to say, 'How far is his body.'

Fitz pointed toward the door. "About ten feet outside."

"If I cover you ... do you think you could get the radio?"

Fitz looked at him. There was no uncertainty there as they both listened to the now sporadic gunfire.

He nodded.

"Okay let's do it," he said as he tried to get up.

"Take it easy, lieutenant, I'll get you over to the door. I don't want you screwing up my stitching job."

With that he grabbed David's body armor by the collar and dragged him across the dusty concrete floor on his butt. This kid from South Chicago was tall and skinny but was a lot stronger than he looked. David's leg wound was hurting like hell but he needed to get that radio and get in touch with Gunny Rodriquez.