Love In The House Of War Page 5

  Ron choked on his tea. “Yes, Christians believe he is the son of God.”

  “I always wondered,” Sarah said pondering.

  “Wondered what?”

  “Why a God would allow his son to be crucified.”

  “To save a lost world.” Ron responded without hesitation.

  “You seem to know the Bible.”

  “Yes. I am a Christian.”

  “So, what was the reason for God's son to die?”

  “Well, an Old Testament prophet, Isaiah said that God would come as man, become one of us, to suffer and carry our weaknesses and sorrows because we were helpless.”

  “Who was helpless?”

  “People. All of us. So God's son, Jesus came to be pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins, beaten so we could be whole, and flogged so we could be healed, just like Isaiah prophesized.”

  “You know all this?”

  “I know some things. My mama taught me.”

  “You did not answer why a father would let his son be scourged like that?” she asked inquisitively.

  “He did it to redeem us, by his love and grace.”

  Sarah just stared at him, a little bewildered. “You believe this?”

  “Yes.”

  “And honest princes will rule under him,” Sarah recited.

  “What?”

  “The rest of the quote by the American girls.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Ron answered. “Jesus is the prince.”

  “So, if you believe in Jesus, this means you are like a prince?”

  Ron snickered. “Do I look like a prince to you?”

  She surveyed him over from head to toe. “Maybe. One can always hope so.”

  Ron noticed a pleading look in her eyes.

  “I know you were watching me pray this morning,” Sarah continued.

  “Oh, I'm sorry—I…”

  “Don't be. It is okay. The women cannot pray in public in the presence of men. Maybe they would see that Allah might listen to us as well and they would not be able to treat us so poorly.”

  Ron thought for a moment. “American women pray at the same place we do.”

  “Then, why were you watching me like it is strange for me to do so?”

  Ron did not have the answer, and he felt like he was caught with his hand in a cookie jar. Avoiding the question, Ron answered, “Listen, if you need me to be your prince, then yes, of course. I will be your prince.”

  11

  Sarah said, “When I was a small girl, my father told me that I was good enough to expect the world. Dream and it will come true. So far though, in this life, it cannot be reached, at least not here in this place.”

  “Why not?”

  “It is just the facts. You could never know. All of us, my friends and I, run away from this abyss every night in our sleep.”

  Ron just looked at her, watching, listening to her every word.

  “The men are told to commit monstrous atrocities against humanity, and if they succeed, they will enter a paradise full of young virgin women. What kind of life is this for a woman?”

  “I have heard this, and, yes, it is why they attacked our country and why we are here now,” Ron chipped in. “Our women are free, like everybody else, and are treated as equals.”

  “We are not and these Taliban, you must stop them before it is too late for the world. This is no paradise for any woman. We can dream of paradise, and when I close my eyes, it has nothing to do with anything here.”

  Ron offered clarification, “Our war is not against people of any religion or religious group. It is against the evil powers that control people and spiritual forces of evil.”

  “It is so a war of religion. You just will not admit it. My mother was from Tajikistan.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Who?”

  “Your mother?”

  Sarah gazed past him. Anyway, we believe the same thing about spirits. That is why I dream so much, I think.”

  “What do you dream?”

  Sarah looked at him. “A handsome prince to rescue me and take me away from this place forever.”

  Ron replied, “Well, we are here to make the Taliban pay for what they have done.”

  “They have done more than you could imagine.”

  “I know by reading about it, but I could never imagine.”

  “Before, I could see it with my eyes closed to everything around me. Until …” Her words tailed off into the morning air.

  “See what? Until what?” Ron asked.

  “Until now, when you came to save me. To see paradise, of course! One for a woman!” Sarah exclaimed. “You saved me from the sword that would have cut me in two, because I dared to be educated, intelligent, and beautiful. This is life for a woman in this house of war.”

  Ron could not wrap his mind around such thinking, a concept beyond his imagination. He grew up in a Christian home surrounded by love for each other and for strangers, as commanded by God. His thoughts swirled. What kind of god would command a ruthless murder on someone so vibrant with life? Someone who could be treated so expendable as if she were a piece of garbage that had no better purpose than to be wasted?

  “This is a travesty. I feel even stronger about my mission.”

  “To fight the Taliban?”

  “Yes. But more importantly, to save people like you! And I am glad that I saved you from such a wasteful death.”

  “I am glad for this as well.”

  “To kill you in such a way would have been a huge disservice to this world,” Ron declared.

  “What do you mean by this, Ron?” Sarah asked with confusion. “Am I special, better than anyone else who has suffered such fate under these zealots?”

  “Maybe. I believe you are special.”

  They would have killed me, you know,” Sarah's voiced trailed, “for no reason.”

  “I heard your father tell your uncle why they wanted to kill you. It is because of me, isn't it?” Ron sought confirmation.

  “Yes, it is hard to believe that our simple conversation would prompt our leaders to accuse me of committing adultery.”

  Ron just looked at her, trying not to appear condemning with his glance. “Of course, you didn't.”

  “The man you saw in the street watching us? I knew he would go to the mosque and find Atta Mohammed Khan, the imam of Dehi. That man, Amir, has been watching me for a long time and has been bothering my father about marrying me. When he saw you talking to me, he reported a pack of lies about us.”

  “I'm so sorry. I—”

  “Don't be. I called for you, didn't I?”

  “Yes, but, I—”

  “I'm glad you came over. I took the chance. I could never marry that scoundrel. He helps the Taliban.”

  “Surely he saw that you were only talking to me—that nothing happened.”

  “He knows nothing happened. He is jealous and wanted to make an example of me, that's all.”

  “And your religion would allow you to be stoned just because you talked to me?”

  “Your religion does the same, I think. Didn't the Christian leaders bring a woman before Jesus for stoning?”

  “Well, not exactly.” Ron thought how to answer this question. “The religious leaders who brought the woman accused of adultery before Jesus were not Christian. They were—”

  “Jews! I know this. You are the same and worship the same.”

  Ron continued his thought. “Jesus told the leaders that whoever is without sin could cast the first stone. Then, he wrote in the dirt. One by one, the leaders went away, leaving the woman alone with Jesus. So he asked where her accusers were. When she told them that they were all gone, he told her also to leave. That neither did he accuse her.”

  Sarah studied him for a moment. “Our leaders would not have had such mercy. They are ruthless.”

  “Well, so were these particular religious leaders. They were the ones behind Jesus's crucifixion.”

  “I still have a hard time believing t
hat God would allow such a thing.”

  “He did it for love … love for what he created.”

  Sarah remained silent.

  Changing the subject, Ron said, “Can I take a look at your foot?”

  Relieved by the change, Sarah placed it up on a rock and unraveled the bandage.

  “I'll do it,” Ron said as he moved closer and reached for her foot, gently placing it on his lap. She watched him without saying anything as he removed the bandages. There was a brief moment of silence until Sarah finally spoke.

  “For many of us, life goes on with a heavy burden too heavy for some to live. They are like rivers of tears flowing until there are no more to shed. And when they have all dried, there is nothing left.”

  “You sound like a poet. Do you feel the same way?”

  “I like poetry. And no,” she denied. “I know the sun will set, and then it will rise again with new hope.”

  “You have a positive outlook. It is good to believe and hold on to hope,” Ron said.

  “It is my faith and my dreams, alone.”

  “Faith in Allah? Dreams of paradise?”

  “Maybe both. Maybe neither.”

  “Do all the women pray like you, I mean, five times a day like the men?”

  “Yes, we pray to Allah, sometimes five times a day. It is a requirement. It shows that we are devoted and that we will acknowledge him,” Sarah declared.

  “I see.”

  “And you?” Sarah asked. “You said that you pray. How do you do this? I have never seen you go out of their way to kneel to God.”

  “I kneel sometimes, although I should more often. I like to talk to God like I do another person, like you and I are talking now.”

  “You talk to God like a person? He will listen to you?”

  “He has so far, I believe. Although I have asked questions that haven't been answered yet.”

  “Like what, may I ask?”

  Ron leaned forward and thought a moment and then examined Sarah's foot. The wound had closed without any signs of redness or puffiness associated with infection. “Your foot looks like it is already healing well, but it may need a little more time to mend. Going down these cliffs and rugged rocks could reopen your wound. Let's leave the bandages off a bit so your foot can get some air.”

  “But you said that we need to get back to your team. We will not do this tonight?”

  “No, not tonight.”

  “What questions haven't been answered?”

  “What?”

  “That you ask God.”

  Ron laid her foot on top of a wide rock and stood up.

  12

  Friday, October 26, 2001

  Captain Carter and his team continued north along the Darya Balkh River, calling in strikes along the way as they pushed north. Chief Hall, SFC Banks and Air Force Staff Sergeant, Jack Davidson were ahead of the main team setting up coordinates for airstrikes. Davidson, the combat controller assigned to Captain Carter's team called in the last strike.

  “Nice shot Sergeant!” Carter exclaimed. “That'll get their attention.”

  Grinning from ear-to-ear, Davidson replied, “My pleasure sir.”

  Unbeknownst to Ron, his team faced another battle near a village called Pol-i-Barak. Sitting between the converging rivers of Darya Balkh and Darya Suf, Mohaqeq's cavalry and Omar's infantry coincided with the precision smart bombs from the US Air Force to defeat a Taliban element.

  Ron turned on the Motorola and heard the Taliban chatter. Looking at Sarah, he said, “If nothing else, those bombs are having a huge psychological effect.”

  Sarah answered, “Yes, by their voice, they are panic-stricken.”

  Just then, Ron heard a loud explosion followed by dead silence. “I believe our guys hit their target.”

  “What?”

  “One of our bombs destroyed some Taliban.”

  “Oh, that is good.”

  Ron crept up to the cliff edge and gazed across the valley. Far into the valley below Ron looked for rising smoke but did not see anything. Suddenly, he heard voices in English. He recognized First Sergeant Talbot's voice.

  Going back to the cave, Ron said, “Watch this,” and whistled the tune to Rocky Top over the radio.

  Sarah's eyes widened. “Why did you do that?”

  Below them in the valley, Captain Carter stood next to Talbot. “Did you hear that?”

  Talbot grinned, “It's Hawk. He's doing well, just like Mohaqeq said he would.”

  Carter looked at his senior enlisted leader as if he was crazy. “Go on.”

  “That's our code for everything is just fine.”

  “Ooo-kay, that's good to hear, top. He is aware …” Carter stopped short.

  “Yes, sir, he is,” Talbot answered. He is well versed with the mission, all around. He will know to do whatever he can to link up with us in Mazar-E-Sharif.”

  Carter gave him a look of suspicion. “Good. I mean … well … never mind.

  The two men walked over to where Abdul Mohaqeq was resting with his troops.

  “We just heard from SGT Hawkins and believe he and your niece are okay.”

  Mohaqeq did not seemed surprised. “Please, sit down a minute, Captain. Have some tea.”

  Carter and Talbot exchanged curious glances before they took a seat next to Mohaqeq.

  Mohaqeq continued, “Relax for a moment, you and the sergeant. I know that your soldier and my niece are doing just fine right now.”

  Again, Carter and Talbot exchanged glances. “You do? How?”

  “If Daoud had either one of them, we would have heard about it over the radio. They would have bragged about having an American and would have tried to bargain for the girl.”

  “If this is so, why did they want to kill your niece two days ago?”

  “It is as you have said. It was a trap to lure an American. Kahn helped him.”

  “Kahn?”

  “Yes. Akhund Atta Mohammed Khan. He is the village Akhund of Dehi and sympathizes with the Taliban.”

  “Is he a threat?”

  “No, no. He is concerned with his religious views on traditionalism and dogmatic doctrine, just like the Taliban. He is a harmless fool. That frail old man looks like a starving, what you call, Santa Claus with narrow pin-pointed eyes.”

  “I am very happy to hear that your sergeant and my niece are okay. Did he say where they were?”

  “No. He didn't speak…just left a signal,” Carter answered.

  Mohaqeq looked a little less relaxed. “They should be fine captain.”

  * * *

  Friday, October 26, 2001

  Later that afternoon, Ron walked to the ledge full of supplies. Grabbing some rope, he went outside to a nearby tree. Sitting down beneath it, he reached for his survival knife. Coming up empty, he muttered to himself, “Must have left it on the shelf.”

  Going back inside, a movement at the far end of the cave caught his attention. Ron stopped and saw Sarah washing herself at the far end of the pond. A loose robe covered her body below the long strands of reddish-black hair laying over her exposed shoulders.

  He continued to watch Sarah as she lifted her long, smooth right leg onto a two-foot rock, tending to her injured foot. Not wanting to be seen, Ron walked away but had hesitated too long before being observed by her gaze.

  Their eyes locked before she grabbed a towel to cover the exposed parts of her body. Ron immediately looked the other way.

  “I'm sorry,” Ron said with his head still facing the opposite direction.

  “Okay. You can go now—please.”

  “Yes of course. I was just coming back to get some rope.”

  “Did you check the shelf?”

  “I am now, thank you.” Then he muttered to himself, “Ghad! Get it together, Hawk. Get it together.”

  “I did not hear you!” Sarah called out. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.” Ron yelled.

  Ron grabbed his knife and more rope. Taking it back outside, he tried hard not to steal a se
cond glance, not worried so much about what he might see, but rather how he would react to what he saw.

  Gathering both strands of rope, Ron secured each strand to the base of the tree with a timber hitch knot. Next, he cut one-foot pieces of rope from the second bundle and used each piece as rungs for a rope ladder, cutting sixteen pieces into twelve-inch lengths.

  He made sure that the two strands were used to secure the timber hitch knots and were spaced apart enough to leave a few inches on the left and right sides of each rung. This way, he could create loops with both of his hands by letting each strand sit in the groove of his thumb and turning them up to create the loops where he then inserted his thumbs.

  Ron became aware of Sarah's presence as she stood near the entrance.

  What are you doing?”

  “Hey, I'm glad you're here. I need your help for a minute, please. I'm making a rope ladder.”

  She came to his side. “You cut the rope?” She exclaimed in dismay.

  “Yes, but I'm making it easier to climb up and down this cliff.”

  “You cut the rope,” she repeated. “That was special rope.”

  “What?”

  “Special rope. My said that it belonged to my mother and…oh, never mind. What can I do?” She asked with agitation in her tone. Sarah seemed a bit tensed.

  Ron watched her a minute, deciding not to say anything else.

  “So, can I help you?”

  “Sure. Insert those pieces of cut rope into this gap that I have with my thumbs.”

  She grabbed the piece of rope and placed it through the two loops that Ron held open and then let go of the rope.

  “I need you to keep holding the rope,” Ron said as he sat there with his arms extended maintaining the loop hold.

  “I should have a camera now,” Sarah said, giggling. “Maybe I will go back inside.”

  Before he could respond back, she stepped forward toward him, very close, and reached for the rope, removing it from his hands slowly. “Like this?” she asked while holding the rope in place.

  “Yes, perfect. Thank you,” Ron said while observing her closely. Then he secured each end with a square knot. “We have fifteen more like this to do.”

  “Fifteen?”