WAR HERO

Chapter Five

Forrester peeked through one of the windows briefly and spotted his intended targets. He cursed under his breath when he saw them surrounded by civilians. He fell to the ground, his head in his hands as he rapidly sucked air into his lungs in an effort to build up his courage. Then he grabbed a grenade from his pouch and prepared to pull the pin...

Forrester was lost in thought. When he addressed the audience, it was almost absent mindedly.  "One grenade. That's all it would take. A few dead civilians and the mission would be complete..."

He gritted his teeth and pulled his arm back. Ready to toss the grenade... at the last moment he stopped and placed the grenade carefully back in his pouch.

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't watch them all die, so I ran." A collective sigh of relief rang audibly through the auditorium.

Forrester ran as fast as his legs would carry him, panting heavily. He wanted nothing more than to put this terrible place out of his mind forever. He stopped periodically to check for a clear radio signal and relished the moment to catch his breath. His frustration mounted with each failed attempt to reach his allies.

He tried again and finally found he had a clear signal. He turned back to look over the village off in the distance. It was mostly dark, but he could see small points of light marking its existence. He stood for a long moment, lost in thought. Then he called in.

"This is Forrester, Bravo company. We've experienced heavy losses. Send air support." A voice answered from the other end of the line.

"We were told to stand down. Over." Forrester hesitated, agonizing over the decision. It wasn't too late to change his mind. He waited a moment longer, feeling the weight of the decision. His conscience screamed silently in his mind. Finally, he lifted the device to his lips.

"I'm the lone survivor of my squad. The civilians are cleared. I need napalm on that village." Forrester waited for a response.

"Roger that Forrester, we'll need coordinates." Forrester began to hyperventilate. Struggling to get ahold of his mounting anxiety. "Forrester, are you there? Over." Forrester gulped hard; then, hands quivering and voice shaking, he gave the coordinates to support.

"Roger that Forrester. We're on our way. We'll send pick up after the bombing run."

Forrester lay in the fetal position, waiting for the napalm. As he heard the jets approaching, he covered his ears. The jets released their payload, bombing the village. Forrester cringed as he heard the piercing screams of enemies and innocents burning alive. He could feel the wave of heat hitting him, it was so intense it singed his eyebrows. The children, he thought with horror, they're gone...

There were audible gasps from the audience. Forrester flinched, lowering his head in shame, unable to look anyone in the eye.

"I... I couldn't stomach watching them die, but I had to complete the mission. I had to avenge my squad. I realized then, that the courage I had displayed earlier was borrowed." His words broke sharply as he exclaimed. It was almost a wail, a deeply troubled, tormented sound, filled with an eternal reservoir of shame and regret.

"Without my men to keep me honest I..." Forrester broke down into tears, sobbing violently. He took a few deep breaths, regaining a measure of his composure.

"In the aftermath, they knew what I'd done, but they couldn't allow the good name of the US military to be tainted. In their eyes it was a decisive victory."

The memory of the next morning flashed through his mind. He stepped into the village to wait for the pickup and saw his handiwork. He didn't want to see what he'd done, but a part of him demanded that he burn it into his memory. He studied the charred remains as long as he could stomach, then looked away in eternal shame. He mostly avoided contact with the rescue team, not wanting to see the judgment in their eyes. He knew he could never forget this moment; could never escape this pain. The thought of it made him ill.

Forrester gagged, trying in vain to keep his body under control. He failed, vomiting violently on the podium and stage. The audience exclaimed, with both concern and disgust. Forrester paused momentarily, attempting to find his voice, then continued.

"I was celebrated as a war hero."

He paused, seething, his sorrow suddenly shifting into fury. He swiftly tore his medal of honor from his uniform and tossed it off the stage in revulsion. Then he looked out over the audience.

"Not a day goes by that I don't regret what I did. There isn't a single second, that fateful day hasn't haunted me. I know in my heart that what I did was a betrayal. A betrayal to my station, to my country and most importantly, to the men who fought next to me and died for the very principles that I abandoned in that moment. My soul has yearned to come clean since that day. To lift this burden from my heart. That's why I started attending this conference fifteen years ago and why I've continued to return every year. I've been meaning to say this publicly for all those years. I only hope God can forgive me for what I've done."

He made his way off the stage, looking ghostly. Many in the crowd sat, mouths agape in stunned silence. Others booed at him as he moved past them. Richard stood; his fists clenched. He wanted nothing more than to jump Forrester and beat him senseless. How could he have betrayed his honor? How could he sully the name of all the brave men who gave their lives? Everything Richard had believed in and fought for was a lie. The man who had inspired him all those years ago was a murderer.

He held back his rage enough to resist attacking Forrester; instead, spitting on him as he walked by. Others joined in.

"You're a disgrace to your country," Richard shouted, with righteous indignation.  Forrester retreated, broken and ashamed; locking eyes with James for a moment before he rushed away. James wanted to join in with his father and the rest of those who hated Forrester. He felt sick and betrayed. This hero who he'd admired, almost worshiped, was nothing but a coward and a fraud.

But when he looked into Forrester's eyes, he saw the pain, the anguish and regret. He saw past the myth, into the man. Just a tortured soul who made a terrible mistake. One that he paid for every day; for a lifetime. And one he would continue to pay for, for the rest of his life. He would forever be branded as a failure, a coward and a traitor.

But in that moment, James felt that Forrester had gained a measure of redemption. He could have stayed silent, he could have even basked in the glory of his fame and prestige, but he chose to reject it and now, he had chosen to come clean. It wasn't a fight on the battlefield, but it required character and considerable courage.

James came to this conference to heed the words of those who'd experienced war first hand. He'd heard about the challenge, the trauma and the sacrifice, but now he understood just how much it cost.  Right then and there, James made his decision. He would never go to war.