Chapter 3

"I don't know... do you have a sister?" Mrs. Benson asked Bob.

"I don't remember," he said. His hand went automatically to his head, where one of the holes drilled in his skull had left a small, eraser sized bald patch.

Benson flipped to another page.

"Ahhh," she said. "You're a traumatic brain injury patient. That explains it. You're just having memory problems."

"I guess so. You'd think I'd remember my own sister, though."

"Well that's your handwriting, right?" she asked pointing at Claudia's name.

"Yes," he said.

"And you wrote the date right there, right?" She pointed to the date of the last update, which was just before his deployment to Iraq.

"Yup," he said.

"Then you have a sister," she said, smiling. "But her phone number is no longer in service, according to the call log. Maybe she moved after you deployed. Or at least changed her phone number."

"Obviously," he said.

"Well, we can't do anything now. Do you have any correspondence from your sister? Something that might have her address on it?"

"If I had correspondence from my sister, I'd know I had a sister," he pointed out.

"Oh. Yes." She flushed with embarrassment.

"Maybe your unit has something. Why don't you contact them, and if they have something then you can come back and we'll get this squared away."

"Sure," he said.

"And you should probably check with the Soldier Family Assistance Center. She may have tried to contact you through them. But if what she told them didn't match what was on the DD 93 they wouldn't have told her anything. They're sticklers about privacy these days, especially when it comes to wounded warriors."

"Okay," said Bob.

"Next!" she called, looking past him.

"I'm taking you to the Soldier Family Assistance Center," said Edith. "They'll get you with your man."

"I don't know how to thank you," sighed Julia. "This has been so difficult!"

"You poor dear," cooed Edith. "Don't worry. Everything will be all right now."

She stopped the car and Julia got out.

"Just go in those doors there and tell them his name and social," said Edith.

As she drove away, Edith Johnson felt proud for the first time in a long time.

The members of the SFAC were handpicked for their cheery, unflappable composure. This is because family members often seem like they are punishment from hell, foisted on people just trying to do their jobs. Nothing is ever good enough, fast enough or cheap enough to satisfy a grieving family member. All family members believe their soldier should be at the front of every line.

So when a tired, bedraggled and confused Julia walked into the SFAC and was approached by only the second smiling person Julia had seen all day, she smiled tiredly back.

"You're looking for a family member?" asked Specialist Four Denise Throckmorton.

"Yes," sighed Julia, and she held out the post it note with Bob's name and social written on it.

Having nothing better to do, and it being a nice day, Bob walked over to Randolph Hall, where the Soldier Family Assistance Center was located. Along the way he tried to think about his sister. Initially all he got was a big blank in his mind. His parents had died early in his Army career, and he remembered the pain of that. But thinking "sister" didn't produce anything at all.

He sat on a bench in the sunshine. It was chilly, but not bad enough to worry about. The woman had mentioned letters. He closed his eyes and thought about mail call in Iraq.

An image popped into his mind ... a pretty young woman in cap and gown. She was smiling ... happy. He felt a tug from his heart, and made assumptions based on that yearning to see this woman.

He got up and went on toward Randolph Hall.

"Do you have your travel orders?" asked SPC Throckmorton.

"Travel orders?" Julia was confused.

"You should have been sent travel orders," said Throckmorton, calmly.

"I just came," said Julia, helplessly.

"Can I see your ID?" asked Throckmorton gently.

Julia looked behind her.

"It's in my purse ... in my car." She pointed back towards where she had parked, which was now half a mile away. "It's over there somewhere."

"I need some kind of ID so I can straighten all this out," said SPC Throckmorton. "But I promise you I can straighten this all out."

Julia didn't think she had the strength to go back and find the car and get her purse. And in any case, she didn't have an ID that would match what the Army had on file for his sister. And since that was what was being required, it looked like her quest was doomed to failure after all. She felt suddenly weak in the knees and swayed.

"I just found out he was hurt." She sagged helplessly. "I don't know how badly. I just wanted to see him." Tears welled up in her eyes. "Can I sit down somewhere? I'm so tired. I drove all the way from Missouri without stopping."

It was obvious to SPC Throckmorton that the woman was on her last legs, and might collapse at any moment. She took the woman's elbow and led her to a line of upholstered chairs, letting her sink into one. Throckmorton reached for the supply of tissues she kept in one pocket and offered one to Julia.

"I know this is hard for you," she said, soothingly. "I'll try to cut through the red tape. Can you give me a minute?"

Julia nodded, dabbing at her eyes. She thought about leaving while the woman was gone. She didn't want to leave. She had come so far, and all she wanted was just a glimpse of him, to know he was all right ... to be able to tell him they were thinking about him.

She glanced at the door. A tall young man was coming in, limping slightly. He looked familiar. Adrenaline surged through her body, instantly giving her energy. She shot to her feet.

"BOB?" she screamed.

Specialist Throckmorton whipped around and saw her customer standing, mouth agape, frozen, staring at a wounded warrior coming through the doors. The soldier looked at the woman.

"Sis?" he said, his eyes widening.

The "reunion" was touching in a way that made Denise Throckmorton want to burst into happy tears. The distraught young woman ran and flung herself at the tall soldier who, Denise noticed with a semi-professional eye, compensated nicely on what she recognized as a prosthetic leg of some kind. He swayed, but his arms wrapped around the distraught girl and picked her up off the floor, where his instincts could control her additional weight better.

"Oh, Bob!" she wailed, hugging him fiercely. "I was so worried! I was afraid you were dead!"

SPC Throckmorton snapped back onto professional mode, wiping her eyes with her knuckles. "Dead" was an unhappy word in this place, and nobody wanted it bandied about. The reunion was touching, but it needed to be moved to a more private setting. She approached the couple.

"This is your sister?" she said, by way of intruding. She smiled.

"Yeah," said Bob, looking a little shell shocked.

"You got your ID on you?" asked Throckmorton.

"Sure," said Bob, and he extracted his billfold. Julia was still wrapped around him, holding him and sobbing, her legs fastened firmly around his upper thighs. He let go of her and opened his wallet to extract his military ID card.

Throckmorton glanced at the post it note and saw that everything matched. "What's her name?" she asked, knowing it was useless to try to question the crying girl.

"Claudia," said Bob, remembering the name on his DD Form 93. "Claudia Strangline. She moved since I filled out my 93 card and they couldn't find her. I was coming here to see if you'd heard from her or not."

"I'm happy to say we've heard from her," said Denise, smiling widely. "Let me get her squared away. She's dead on her feet." She winced at her own used of the taboo word.

"No problem," said Bob, and put his arms back around his sister.

She turned her tear streaked face up to him. "Are you all right?" she asked in a high pitched voice.

"I am now," he said, squeezing her. "I have a traumatic brain injury, and I forgot I had a sister. But I'm getting better."

Julia's mind whirled. Any port in a storm, they say, and she seized the floatation device that was offered.

"Yes! I'm your sister!"

"They tried to notify you when I got injured, but I guess you moved or something, because they couldn't find you at the address on my emergency notification card."

Again she went with the first thing that came to her, based on the last time she had moved.

"I graduated and got a job teaching," she said, breathlessly, staring up into his eyes. She couldn't believe he was right there, in her arms!

"That explains it," he said. "Here she comes."

Specialist Throckmorton approached, smiling.

"I pulled some strings. She's so tired we need to get her somewhere she can rest and you two can catch up. We'll do the paperwork later. I've gotten her a room at one of the Fisher houses. You can stay there with her while she's here. I've already notified your chain of command."

"That's wonderful," said Bob, eager to get out of the barracks, even if only for a few days. And his sister had a car. Didn't she?

"Do you have a car?" he asked.

She waved a hand. "Over there somewhere," she said. She wanted to reinforce the idea that she was on her last legs. "I had to park it way over there somewhere."

"We'll find it," he said, squeezing her.

Throckmorton handed him a set of orders. "Promise me you'll get back with me in a day or two," she said. "I need to get her situation squared away so all the tees are crossed."

"No problem," said Bob. "Can we go now?"

"Have a good time. I got her in for five days to start with. We can extend it later when we get the paperwork done."

"Hoo-rah," said Bob. "Let's go, Claudia." He pushed her away from him, but held her shoulders. "Is that what I call you? Claudia? Or do I have a nickname for you?"

"Call me anything you want," she sighed, and leaned back in to hug him again.

Julia was still in a daze as Bob keyed open the door in the guest house that provided emergency lodging for family members through donations. It was similar to a hotel, and the room was nice, though compact. There was a queen sized bed, a small kitchenette with a table that would seat three. A couch formed a partial barrier between the sleeping area and a small space with a TV in it.

"You want to take a nap while I go get some clothes to bring over here?" asked Bob.

Julia, desperately tired now, nodded. "Just promise me you'll come back," she said.

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Any Soldier

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