Page 3 of Salute, To Bravery
I know she’s fishing for more, but I need to fully understand her motives before I divulge anything further.
“Survival is a basic instinct, but what was your mission before you were captured?” she presses, leaning forward slightly.
I pause, considering my options. Revealing too much could compromise my comrades, but revealing nothing would make me a less valuable prisoner, potentially expendable. I decide to be evasive.
“My mission is to observe and report. The dynamics of conflict are ever-changing, so understanding them is key to adapting strategies.”
Captain Riley nods, her expression unreadable. “And what have you observed about us?”
“You’re disciplined, well-equipped, and cautious,” I say, watching her reaction closely. “Your leadership is competent. However, like all invading forces, you are stretched thin, having to balance aggression with defense.”
She leans back, absorbing my analysis. “You’re quite perceptive.”
“In my line of work, one has to be,” I admit with a small shrug.
“What about your line of work before you joined the military? What were you?” Her tone is casual, but her gaze is anything but.
“I was a teacher of history, Captain,” I reveal. “As well as teaching us about the past, it’s a subject that educates us about the present and the future. Patterns repeat, and the resulting strategies echo through time.”
“A teacher turned soldier,” she muses. “That’s quite the shift.”
“In times of war, everyone must play their part,” I respond, thinking of my students now scattered by conflict.
Captain Riley regards me silently for a moment. “For now, you’ll be held here. Cooperate, and we can ensure your safety. Try to escape or cause us problems, and you’ll regret it.”
I nod once, understanding the parameters of my confinement.
She stands to leave, and I call out, “Captain Riley.”
She pauses before looking back at me.
“History also teaches us about respect,” I add, holding her stare. “Even enemies can find mutual ground where it exists.”
Her lips twitch in a slight smile before she leaves the tent, saying, “We’ll see.”
The guards lead me away to a holding cell, and I let my thoughts wander back to my teaching days, to lessons about resilience, the cyclical nature of conflict, and the errors made in both World Wars as well as the heroics of those involved. Here, in the heart of an enemy camp, surrounded by the realities of conflict, those lessons feel more pertinent than ever.
As I lie down on the makeshift cot provided for me, I know that understanding my captors, maybe even respecting them, could be the key to surviving this ordeal. After all, knowledge is power, and in war, power is everything.
Chapter Three.
Harper
Once Haddad and the other prisoners have been placed in cells for the night, I report to Major Anderson, our unit commander, who’s waiting in the operations tent.
“Captain, what’s the status?” he asks, looking up from a map that’s strewn across a table and has markers and lines all over it.
“Five prisoners, sir. No casualties on our side. One of them isn’t in uniform and doesn’t fit the usual enemy soldier profile. He may have some valuable intel,” I report succinctly, despite the fatigue that claws at every part of me. I’ve been out on patrol for the last eighteen hours.
Anderson nods, marking something on the map. “Good work, Captain. Get some rest. We’ll debrief at oh six hundred.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say, saluting before I turn and leave.
I walk away, and the adrenaline of the mission slowly ebbs, leaving behind a tiredness that’s bone deep. But sleep is elusive, as it so often is, so I head to the small, makeshift gym on the base instead. Physical exhaustion is the only way to quiet the ghosts that haunt me when I’m unable to sleep. Jamie and all thosewho’ve been killed by my hand or others’ are constant reminders of the fragility of life.
Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I lose myself in the rhythm of the workout. Each punch thrown at the heavy bag is a release, and every bead of sweat is an ode to the living. My brother is never far from my thoughts—a persistent, steady pulse in the undercurrent of my existence. He is both my biggest drive and my greatest regret, fueling my determination to push harder, be better, and somehow make sense of his death. I miss him so much.
When exhaustion finally hits, I leave the gym, my body aching and my mind slightly quieter. The cold night air is welcome, and as I walk back to my quarters alone with my thoughts, the bright stars overhead bear silent witness to the life I live.
