I got a letter from Cassie, just detailing the day to day shit going on with her, and as boring as it probably was for her to write it out, I held on to it. I read it over and over again until I’d damn near memorized it. Her getting up, PTing, going to the chow hall, working, then going home and doing close to nothing put a smile on my face. She was safe. She was able to move about freely and without worry which was a luxury we weren’t afforded in a combat zone.

I read her letter every night before I attempted sleep, and many mornings her letter was still in my hands when I woke. It was my only piece of normalcy, and I had to hold tight to it or else I would succumb to the insanity of where I was.

Good news finally came a few weeks later when First Sergeant Keating informed me that I’d be pinning on Staff Sergeant. Unfortunately, because of the nature of our surroundings, there would be no ceremony. I’d be pinned, and that would be that. I was okay with it, considering only a couple of months earlier, I thought I’d never see this promotion. If they decided to pin me in the middle of a deserted street, I’d take it.

I met First Sergeant Keating and our Company Commander, Captain Lucas, in their work quarters. Captain Lucas greeted me with a warm handshake, but First Sergeant Keating was a little milder. We hadn’t spoken about our blow up since the night it happened, but there was a thin layer of friction between us that was mutually shared, so the relationship was business only. We were the only people in the room, solidifying the fact that the pomp and circumstance of my previous promotions was an after-thought.

Captain Lucas held my warrant in his hand as he approached me. “Because of our circumstances, we’ll just do a small and quick promotion for you, Sergeant Cruz.”

First Sergeant Keating read the award warrant—long, drawn out, and lacking any real sort of emotion. The man was overworked and unenthusiastic about almost everything he did, but I didn’t care because, at the end of this, I would finally have my rank. They both stood, one at each of my sides, and removed the Sergeant chevrons from my collar and replaced them with the Staff Sergeant chevrons: three chevrons with the cross rifles in the middle and a rocker on the bottom. This was a moment of pride, and one that I thought would never come.

First Sergeant O’Hara gave every ounce of himself to try and keep me from attaining my rank, but alas, he’d failed, and the feel of it sitting on my collar was the ultimate testament to everything I’d given to the Corps with a mighty fuck you to O’Hara to go along with it.

“Anything you’d like to say, Staff Sergeant Cruz?” Keating asked.

“Just thank you,” I responded, remaining composed.

“All right, get your ass back to work,” Keating said, turning away and going back to work.

I left the building and headed straight for the phone center, not wanting to wait a second longer before sharing the big news with Cassie. If my ceremony had been at home, she would have been the person to pin me, but since that couldn’t happen, I wanted to make sure she was the first person to hear about it.

The phone rang and rang before a very tired voice answered on the other line. I didn’t bother to check the time, nor did I really give a shit. My excitement was through the roof, and the one and only person who I cared to share it with was halfway across the world.

“Hello…”

“Hey, Blondie!” I responded. “Guess what finally fucking happened?”

“What?”

“Your man just pinned on the rocker, baby. I’m a fucking Staff Sergeant now.”

“What?” her voice finally awakened. “Are you serious? You got it?”

“I fucking got it. E-six, baby. E-six.”

“I’m so proud of you, Alex. So damn proud. And it’s good because we’ve got—”

Guys were coming in left and right, yelling that we needed to saddle up and go—now! The commotion had everyone dropping their calls in a frenzy, leaving me no choice but to do the same.

“Blondie, I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll call back when I can.”

“Alex—”

The line went dead. I looked up to find some huge fucking Gunny holding down the line. “All Marines out, now!”

Whatever was going on was serious, so I knew that this was not the time to start shit. I ran to my tent, dressed in my gear and met up at the motor pool. We stood in formation, heated air pummeling our faces. First Sergeant Keating had the same emotionless face staring back at us, only his voice carried a spark that I hadn’t heard since we’d gotten into our altercation over Avery.

“Marines, there is too much fucking activity happening outside of these walls. These motherfuckers are relentless, if not stupid, but regardless, we need to ramp up the pressure on these assholes. The contractors are a done deal, but we know they are planning more shit, and earlier this afternoon, some of your brothers were ambushed. They came out alive, but the activity hasn’t let up, so we’re sending more of you out to crush this shit.”

“Oorah! Oorah, First Sergeant!” A chorus of yells. “Get some!”

The motivation was through the fucking roof, and I would have been lying if I said the echo of the calls wasn’t resonating with me, sending goose bumps surging up all over my arms, prompting me to yell out with them. I’d seen more than my share of the shit this place could dish out, but the fact that the terrorists were growing bolder, almost as if they were no longer afraid of what we were capable of, infuriated and excited me all at once.

“We’re gonna show these bastards that they’re messing with the baddest motherfuckers to ever walk this earth!” Vega yelled out, clasping my shoulder as we walked out to our assigned vehicle.

“Fucking right!” I responded, bounding into the back of the Humvee.

The vehicle pulled off of the base grounds, dropping us into the heart of the town of Fallujah. There was nothing out of the ordinary; a busy town center with kids playing soccer, shoppers shopping, and patrons sitting curbside as they sipped tea and enjoyed conversation. To the untrained eye, it would almost exude a very American feel, except I had been before, and I had seen what this scene could instantly turn into.

On my first deployment, I had been on patrol in an environment not much different from this one, and in the blink of an eye, a woman had blown herself and about fifty other people up when she detonated the suicide bomb strapped to her body. Because the women were always covered, it was easy for them to mix in with the crowd and go undetected until it was too late. Our training had taught us to watch for suspicious activity and excess movement. Unfortunately, with a crowd in this tight space, it wasn’t always easy to watch out for the wrong doers.

We took off on our patrol route, casing the area for any activity that could be deemed as threatening. The farther away from the town center that we strayed, the less activity that there was to be found.

It was hot—that was a fucking understatement since it was always hot, but today seemed hotter than usual. White had Avery close to him, and thankfully, while he was still scared of every fucking thing that moved, he’d learned to compose himself.

“Man, we should stop for some water,” Vega suggested, pulling out his canteen.

I halted the rest of the platoon who stood in the ready position while Vega hydrated. The winds were picking up, and sand was flying everywhere. I silently prayed that it kept to a minimum. An Iraqi sandstorm was the last thing we needed being out in the middle of Fallujah. Sandstorms put a halt on everything because visibility went down to zero and getting back to a vehicle becomes damn near impossible, leaving us vulnerable to any attack by desperate insurgents. My life had become one of casual paranoia, always aware of the dangers lurking behind the scenes, and desperate to survive in a land where many lives were claimed on a daily basis.

“I’m ready,” Vega announced, sticking his canteen back into the pocket on his Kevlar.

We humped all the way to the edge of the city, weaving in and out of residential streets, but finding nothing of much importance. As we began our descent back to the city center, I struck up conversation with Vega.

“How long have you been with your girl, man?”

“Going on five years now. We’ve been together since high school.”

“What’s kept you from marrying her?”

“She was in college back home and didn’t want to up and move out to Twentynine. I couldn’t blame her. The place is a shithole.”

“Hey…” White chimed in, “I met my wife in Twentynine. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You met your wife in Twentynine?” Vega asked, almost as if he were disgusted by this newfound information.

“Yep, met her at the Twentynine Palms car show. She had a kick ass Chevelle in the show, and I fell in love.”

We laughed as his face relived that fateful moment, smiling wide with a dreamy look in his eye.

“Did you fall in love with her or with the damn car?” I asked.

“Both, but I can’t fuck the car, so I guess I fell harder for her.” We all laughed, knowing full well that he was serious. “When I get home, I’m buying and restoring a Shelby.”

“What about your kid on the way?” Vega asked.

“I’ll let him ride in it,” White joked, making us all laugh again. “No kids for you, Staff Sergeant?”

“Nope, no kids.”

“Look at you. Raking in all of this Staff pay and no one to spend it on.”

“Well, I’ve got a girlfriend but no kids. We’re gonna wait a while on that. She’s active, so we need to plan shit out first.”

“Makes sense.”