On the Line

Part 1

She didn't want to be there. This meeting room with old padded chairs and the smell of burnt coffee lingering in the air. It wasn't just that she was uncomfortable; although that was a huge part of it. No, it was the fact that she knew her anonymity was quickly coming to an end. Even though she was only slightly paying attention, and she did feel bad about that...she knew the time was coming.

"I'd like to take this opportunity to open the floor to anyone who hasn't yet shared." The leader of the group smiled warmly, and not so subtly looked in her direction. "Maybe anyone who is a little new to our group."

She cleared her throat as she stood. She was tall and stood straight as a rod; not bothering to fuss with her clothes. She just stood in the semi-circle and looked dead ahead.

"My name is Tammy, and I was in the United States Marines. I did three tours; one in Iraq and two in Afghanistan. I've been a civilian for a year now." She paused and took a breath; the others were staring. This wasn't a strictly military group.

"You know that sound firework's make when it's launched? You can hear it if you're sitting close to where they are; that whistling sound. That's the sound that I hear. Not the explosion from the IED, or the screaming from my fellow Marine's, just that whistling sound..." She broke off then and took a ragged breath.

"I remember thinking that we were safe. That yes, someone would be in the line of fire, but my guys were okay. You were in the line of fire if you could hear that whistle, and I was stupid and not paying attention. That's when the Marine on my left pushed me out of the way, and I all I could hear was shouting. Calls for assist, calls for a medic...crying." Her hands went into her back pockets and she swayed slightly.

"All I really remember is that whistle, and being pushed out of the way of the IED. He just threw his body on top of mine to try and contain as much of the blast and shrapnel as he could. I brought back that image, and his blood with me," she trailed off. Tammy vaguely heard someone clear their throat and dismiss everyone for the week. It had to have been a few minutes before she realized that no one was sitting in that semi-circle. No, they were up stretching and partaking in the refreshments. She scrubbed her hands over her face and collected her bag, and herself, before moving towards the tables at the back of the room.

Tammy was taking a tentative sip of coffee when a man approached her. A small smile on his face which was lined and tanned.

"My name is Chris. I've seen you here a few times," he said as he offered his hand. Tammy took it and shook it briefly. Small talk was not her forte. She was quiet by nature and training. "I'm glad you spoke today. Between you and me, I think everyone was starting to wonder about you." Chris chuckled and reached to the table and grabbed a cookie.

"Ah, well," Tammy started, but what could she say? It was hard for everyone here to talk about why they were here. "I wasn't sure this was the place for me...maybe it still isn't."

They spoke for a bit, and Tammy learned that Chris had also been in the Marines. While that wasn't his reason for being there, he did suffer from PTSD. She told him of how she had attended several military support groups, but would leave frustrated. There were men that didn't show her respect because she was a woman, and then there were those that still didn't believe they had a problem. She couldn't understand it.

"It's easier to ignore the issue, than to admit to having a weakness." Chris had said it so simply. Maybe his age afforded him that outlook, but Tammy still had a hard time accepting that so many people weren't getting the help they needed and deserved.

Chris noticed when Tammy checked her watch for the second time, "I won't keep you, but I wanted to introduce myself and to offer my phone number." He pulled out a small notebook from his back pocket and began scribbling in it. He tore the paper out and handed it to her.