Love In The House Of War Read online

  Together, the two Russians grabbed Ron and carried him to the waiting helicopter. Other Spetsnaz soldiers were on the ground, surrounding the Hip in an oval perimeter. Two guards retrieved the chest of weapons as Sergei himself walked over to Daoud who lay in a spreading pool of his own blood. Sergei stooped to his knees and bent over his body. As he grabbed the envelop filled with money, he noted something like a leather book next to it. Daoud made a weak attempt to grab his hand.

  “Wha—why the girl?”

  Sergei grinned, looking into his hate-filled eyes with disdain and said in Persian, “You made the mistake of taking the King's daughter…a princess. And you also took her prince.”

  “Kiii…ng?”

  “In this case, a Russian General.”

  Surveying the extent of Daoud's wounds, Sergei decided the man would die from bleeding out in less than five minutes. He walked away.

  The Russian soldiers had already laid Ron in the helicopter next to Sarah who was still asleep from the tranquilizer. A medical team consisting of a military doctor and the two female nurses worked on Ron the moment he arrived on the improvised surgical table. During a quick primary examination, Dr. Oslov noticed within seconds a deviated trachea. Ron's breathing was very shallow and his chest hyper-expanded. These symptoms revealed to Dr. Oslov the urgency needed to treat for tension pneumothorax. Ron's lungs filled with air in the pleural space of the lungs.

  A lung laceration from a cracked rib, Dr. Oslov surmised. Such a pressure buildup could cause an obstruction of blood returning to the heart leading to circulatory instability and traumatic arrest. Time was critical. He initiated treatment without further delay. While one of the nurses worked on the bullet wound to stop the bleeding, Ron stopped breathing.

  The other nurse gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation until Dr. Oslov retrieved a 16-gauge needle to insert into Ron's chest between the second and third rib space in the middle of the clavicular line. The decompression process, called a thoracostomy, began when Dr. Oslov advanced the needle until air from Ron's lungs aspirated into the syringe connected to the needle. Then, Dr. Oslov withdrew the needle with the cannula left open for an immediate rush of air out of Ron's chest.

  Dr. Oslov succeeded, relieving the pressure from Ron's lungs while Sergei sat close by watching the procedure. Then looking up at Sergei, he nodded his head up and down, holding up his thumb.

  Sergei looked relieved. One of the females placed an intravenous tube into Ron's arm and took other measures to treat him for shock. The nurse who revived him with resuscitation switched to placing an oxygen mask over Ron's nose and mouth once he breathed on his own again.

  Forty-five minutes later, Dr. Oslov declared Ron stable enough to finish his primary survey, although one of the nurses had continued the examination when he stopped to treat the pneumothorax. There was no exit wound meaning the bullet still lodged inside the leg. She also determined that Ron had a fractured leg.

  Dr. Oslov administered some opiate analgesic agents and worked on Ron's leg with the assistance of the nurses and a couple of soldiers. Sergei observed the medical team at work in between his observation of the terrain. It would be another forty-minute flight to Termez, Uzbekistan, bordering Afghanistan.

  Lifting the receiver from the communications panel, he talked in Russian to General Tamarov. “We have them both and they are safe. The American has serious injuries, but Dr. Oslov and his team have stabilized him.”

  “Well done, Sergei, well done,” the general praised. My daughter, how is she?”

  “She is fine sir, but not without anguish. She does not know that we have rescued the American.”

  “This is understandable. When she awakens, there will be a pleasant surprise awaiting her.”

  “Indeed. She is a beautiful and spirited woman.”

  “Sounds like her mother. I'll see you when you get here.”

  The flight path skirted north of Mazar-e-Sharaif and went straight to Termez. Except for the buzzing of the rotors, the interior of the craft was silent. No one spoke. One of the nurses kept her eye on Ron while the other watched Sarah, prepared to give another sedative if necessary.

  Sarah twisted and turned in her sleep. Then, her twitching stopped, and she remained motionless for a couple of seconds before opening her eyes. Sitting up, she said, “Ron!” as if she knew he would be there.

  “He is over here,” Dr. Oslov said.

  Sarah sat upright and stared at Ron who was sleeping. She then reached over and grabbed his hand, holding on with both of hers. She rolled over to his side and laid her head on his chest where there were no bandages visible while the Russians watched her.

  “We can live the dream after all, my prince!”

  Sergei was watching her.

  “You planned to save him all along?” Sarah asked in Russian.

  He nodded his head.

  “Спасибо, от всего сердца, спасибо.” (Thank you. From my heart, thank you).

  Sergei remained silent but did manage a smirk. Then, he handed her a brown leather-bound journal. “I found this on Daoud.”

  Sarah shot up and grabbed it.

  “Thank you!”

  Opening the brown leather journal from the back, and stopping at the last page that contained an entry. She saw a drawing of a young girl who seemed to have discovered her dream.

  Beneath the picture were the words:

  A beautiful girl has captured my heart. I believe she is the girl of my dreams and I pray to be with her forever. Her name is Sarah, meaning 'princess,' and she is a princess. Mama would love her!

  She tucked the journal under her arm and laid her head back on Ron's chest, smiling and crying at the same time. Then she spoke to him. “My prince, I love you so much. I did not think that I would ever see you again. My heart broke to pieces. In vain, I hid my heart's fierce pain and tried to pretend an inner calm existed. I could not.”

  Sergei and his crew watched her as she continued to talk.

  “When I was asleep, in my dreams, a man came to me and said he would give me great peace and restore my heart. I asked him how this could be when my love was taken from me. He answered, 'Your prince is here now.' Then he held out his hands, and I saw scars on both of them. I felt a great peace like never before and then I woke up. You were here! Praise God! Here you are, my love. Here you are!”

  25

  The sun was already sinking fast, leaving a rim of orange, pink, and purple across the horizon as the Mi-8 Hip approached the airfield in Termez, Uzbekistan. Once it touched ground, the Spetsnaz occupants spilled onto the tarmac and set up a defense perimeter.

  Major Sergei Kravchenko jumped out of the copilot's seat with two Spetsnaz guards. Stopping in his tracks, he shot to attention and rendered a smart salute to General Tamarov, flanked by several Spetsnaz guards.

  A two-star general wearing a green beret approached. Sergei recognized him from their encounter in Berlin. The name on the tag read Summers. Another American in uniform, also wearing a green beret, along with two other men wearing all black, including sunglasses, flanked the general. They carried M4s.

  General Tamarov returned the salute and said, “Well done, Sergei, well done.” He did not need to say anything further.

  Sergei went back to the Hip and emerged with Tamarov's daughter, Sarah. He brought her up to him, and they stopped about two feet apart. Sarah looked into the general's eyes and opened her mouth to speak but said nothing. She did not know what to say.

  General Tamarov, fighting hard to hold back tears, cleared his throat and said, “You are very beautiful, just like your mother.

  You have her eyes.”

  Then he raised both of his arms and took a step toward Sarah. She responded in kind and allowed his loving embrace, the first from her biological father. He held her, unable to keep a stream of clear liquid roll down his cheek.

  Behind them, Dr. Oslov and his two nurses emerged from the helicopter with other soldiers carrying a litter holding SGT Ron Haw
kins. Although regaining consciousness, he still had difficulty focusing on his surroundings because of all the narcotics administered to him.

  Major General Summers walked up to the stretcher while the soldiers stopped. “Sergeant Hawkins, can you hear me?”

  Ron nodded his head.

  “We're going to take great care of you now and get you home. You did a very fine job out there. The rest of your team will meet us soon.”

  “How are they, sir?” Ron slurred.

  “Not everything went according to plan at Mazar-e-Sharaif, but everybody is fine now. The mission is accomplished.”

  “Sir,” Ron mumbled. “The girl. She is my wife. We're married.”

  “We know all about it, Sergeant Hawkins. We'll take care of everything.”

  A small golf cart type of vehicle came up to the litter that Ron laid on and a few soldiers transferred him to it. Before they could drive away toward the hangar, Sarah ran after the wheeled cart and yelled, “Wait!”

  The driver stopped and turned around. She ran up to Ron, grabbed his hand, and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you so much!”

  “I love you too, princess.”

  Those standing around exchanged glances and then headed back toward the hangar. General Tamarov watched Sarah standing alone, staring at Ron as he was carted away. Then he walked over to her, placed his arm around her, and said in Russian, “You do love him, don't you?”

  Tears were running down her face, wetting both cheeks. She replied in Russian. “He saved my life. He is my prince, my husband, so, yes; of course, I love him with my whole heart.”

  Tamarov held her closer to him. Sarah looked into her father's eyes. “Papa, what will happen to Ron? To us?”

  Tamarov acted surprised and moved by being addressed as Papa.

  “Sarah, one day, a long time ago, a soldier, a prince, came to rescue the girl he loved and the child they both loved.”

  She listened.

  Tamarov continued. “The soldier-prince could not rescue the love of his life because she left this world too soon.”

  Sarah cried and buried her head into his chest. “But you, my beautiful princess, you are alive, and it is clear that your dream is coming true. Don't worry princess.”

  “Wha-what did you just call me?”

  “Princess. It is the name your mother and I gave you the day you came into this world.”

  Sarah continued to weep beset by emotions twisting her at every angle. “I'm so sorry,” she managed between the sobs. “I am much stronger than this. Believe me, I am.”

  “Oh, I do believe you, my little princess. I do believe you. You have gone through so much in the past week. Now, now. You should not be crying when you have to get cleaned up and ready for your departure.”

  “But that is why I am crying, Papa. I do not wish to leave my husband, ever.”

  “Of course you won't, my dear. No, no, of course not. Moreover, I would never cause you such anguish. I have worked out a deal with the American general. You will be getting prepared to go to America with your new husband, Sergeant Ron Hawkins.”

  Sarah reared back and looked at Tamarov with initial astonishment, followed by an exuberant yell heard from the hangar, causing everyone to turn around and look in their direction. Then she jumped up and down twice and lunged toward Tamarov. “Oh, thank you, Papa! Thank you so much!”

  You are quite welcome, Mrs. Hawkins.” Tamarov said, “It was a very difficult decision, my little princess. Very difficult, indeed, but the right one to make. But you must promise me that you will come and visit me in Odessa.”

  “I will! I promise!”

  * * *

  Captain Carter and his team continued moving north, at times through minefields, to Mazar. In order to take the city, the Northern Alliance and Special Forces had to take the towns of Ak Kupruk and Baluch first, areas defended by five thousand Taliban troops.

  “I can almost smell victory,” Talbot told Carter.

  The captain eyed his first sergeant. “We still have a hurdle to jump.”

  The Americans continued to drop numerous ordnance on the Taliban, including the BLU-82, or daisy cutter, considered the largest nonnuclear explosive device.

  “Holy Smoke!” Talbot yelled.

  The colossal mushroom cloud lifted toward the heavens, bringing a grin to Carter's face. There was a deafening crashing sound that followed as it dispersed concussions felt for miles. Carter's team and Mohaqeq's men dropped to the ground and watched in awe.

  A second one dropped thirty minutes later. “Well, if that doesn't chase away the rats, nothing will,” Mohaqeq said laughing. With a combination of “Flintstones” fighting with “Jetsons” technology, Carter's team and Mohaqeq's men continued forward with high-tech lasers and old fashion rifles. They rode onward to victory across the Darya Suf Valley and through the narrow Tiangi Gap on horses and John Deere Gator utility vehicles.

  Then on the 10th of November, the Northern Alliance, with help from the US Army Special Forces, took Mazar-e-Sharaif. As the team paraded into town, thousands of people celebrated in jubilation.

  “You can smile now sir…we did it.”

  Captain Carter looked at his first sergeant and smiled.

  26

  Ron looked out of his hospital room window from the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center. General Summers took care of all legal documents needed for an official marriage.

  General Tamarov took some time off to spend it with Sarah, having meals together, discussing her past and her future prospects. He believed that the decision for her to go to America was in everybody's best interest, most of all, hers.

  After several weeks in the hospital, Ron improved and was ready to return with his new bride to America. During his first few days there, while recovering from surgery, General Summers strolled in with a special guest.

  “Mama!” Ron yelled as he tried to prop himself up the best he could.

  Ron's mother, Charlene, ran to him, tears streaming down her face. “Oh Ronni, ma baby! I am so glad yew are alive!” she yelled, wrapping her arms around his neck. She gave him that particular look of love and longing from a mother's eyes.

  General Summers walked out the door muttering, “I'll leave you two alone.”

  “Let me look at yew, she said with concern.”

  “I'm okay now, mama.”

  “Ah don't know what I would have done if something ever…” she was unable to finish before she burst into tears again.

  Ron reached out to hug and console her the best he could. “Mama, I know you and Paw Paw prayed for me because God watched over me.”

  She nodded her head and said, “I know he did, Ronni, I just wish yew did not have to go through so many hardships to get where he wants yew.”

  “Mama, I have something to tell you. I'm not sure how to say this, but, I am married now, to a girl from Afghanistan.”

  Charlene looked at him smiling. “Ah know you are. General Summers told me everything. I even met your gorgeous bride. Yew did well Ronni, she is beautiful.”

  Ron beamed. “Thanks mama, I am so glad you approve. We love each other very much.”

  “Ah can tale. By the way, your wife and I have a date tonight with General Summers and General Tamarov.”

  “What? Wait. How do you know General Summers?”

  “He and your daddy trained together and were close friends.”

  “Ahh, which explains why he has been so nice to me and looked out for me.”

  “He has always asked about you and has been following your career.”

  That explains everything, Ron thought. “Mama, be careful tonight and have a good time. Be sure to give Sarah a kiss for me.”

  “Well darling, you can kiss her yourself when she comes to see yew later.”

  “I will for sure!”

  The two caught up with news from home and Ron was wise enough not to tell her of all the details about his recent mission. “You guys were all over the TV news stations, riding horses, everyth
ing!”

  “Yep, we rode horses there.”

  “Well, yew get some rest now, baby. I'll see yew tomorrow.”

  “Okay mom, bye.”

  Unbeknownst to Ron, General Tamarov and General Summers had planned a massive wedding party in conjunction with a coordinated event to launch their first joint special operations between the two nations.

  Ron stayed six weeks in the hospital before General Summer's aide-de-camp brought him a new set of dress greens. The jacket and pants hung pressed on two separate hangers. Above the pocket on the left side of the jacket were a few rows of ribbons.

  “The general said that you would need these Sergeant Hawkins,” the captain said as he handed Ron the uniform.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Oh, and congratulations,” the captain added as Ron looked with surprise at the chevron containing three stripes on top and one at the bottom, indicating his new rank of staff sergeant.

  “Hot diggity dog!” Ron yelled out. “Thank you, Jesus!”

  The captain said, “You better get dressed, Staff Sergeant Hawkins.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Ron dressed with everything except for the jacket, before he noted the purple ribbon attached along with his other ribbons on the silver mount above his pocket. He studied it, walked over to the window, looked up to the sky, and said, “Thank you again, Lord. You got me out of a tough jam.”

  The Captain followed the Army nurse who pushed Hawkins to the elevator in a wheelchair. At the bottom floor, a limousine waited for him.

  “This is for me?”

  “No,” the captain answered.

  When Ron stepped inside, General Summers, Colonel Bowman, Captain Carter, Master Sergeant Talbot, and SSG Chris Short were waiting inside. Ron kept trying to find the words but he could not say anything. He went around exchanging hugs and back pats with his three-team members.

  “Thank God you all are alive,” Ron exclaimed.