Key (eBook)

Jeffrey Brierton (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
264 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
9798317813970 (ISBN)

Infos

After three tours of duty in the combat hell of Afghanistan, John McCormack returned home only to find himself lost and lacking meaning and purpose in his life. In trying to put the horrors of war behind him, he is troubled by deep doubts and unanswered questions regarding his future. In the hope of finding his path in this new civilian world, he sets out to explore his familial roots in Belgium in the hope of learning how his grandmother, a source of strength and guidance over the years, met the challenges of her life. What John can't anticipate is that his journey of self-discovery will have many twists and turns that will reveal the value of sacrifice, friendship and family, true love, and even redemption. Ultimately, it will surprise him and end in a way he never could have imagined, reminding him of the true meaning of courage, the power of love, and the circle of life.

In 2012, Dr. Jeff Brierton retired after thirty seven years in public education as both a high school teacher and Principal of two high schools in the northern suburbs of Illinois. During those years, he earned B.A. in Political Science, an M.A. in International Relations, an M.S.Ed. in Educational Administration, an Ed.S. in Educational Leadership, and a Ph.D. in American History. Jeff also spent nineteen years in the US Army Reserve with most of those years as a Drill Sergeant. He is currently an undergraduate adjunct professor of Political Science and World History at National Louis University in Wheeling, Illinois. To date, Jeff has co-authored two textbooks on school leadership after which he self-published three books on school leadership, a personal memoir, and two collections of poems. Several of his poems have been included in a national poetry magazine. In his spare time, Jeff enjoys writing, teaching, traveling, repairing bicycles, and baking bread. He has three sons and a daughter and lives in northern Illinois with his wife Mary Beth and their two rescue dogs.

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The Key is the story of one hero's journey. After finding a key left behind in a Brussels tavern, John McCormack, an Afghan war veteran, sets aside his original purpose for traveling to the beautiful city of Brussels and sets out to discover the origin of the key. He can't know that the key will lead him to understand more about himself and his life than he ever might have imagined and will ultimately lead him to realize why he came to Brussels in the first place. This is a book for veterans coping with post-war life, for all of us who have suffered loss in our lives, and for anyone who believes that kindness, hope, and love can make all the difference in our lives. The Key is a book for heroes and those of us not so heroic; a book for lovers and those seeking to be loved, a book for travelers seeking self-discovery, and a book that teaches us that we all hold the key to our own redemption.

Textauszug

Chapter 4

 

The airport was, as expected, a madhouse. I hate flying. I always have. The crowds, the stress of making the flight, security and the cramped cattle car seats. To kill some time, I wandered into an Irish bar. The bartender there was a portly fellow with a big smile. As I approached the counter, he turned toward me with an easy grin.

“Hey, brother, you look like a man who wore the uniform. My name’s Lenny. What can I get you?”

“Hey, Lenny. I’m John. And yes, 75th Rangers. At least I used to be. Let me have a Tullamore Dew, please, with a tall, cold one right next to it.”

“Ok. And hey, you never ‘used to be a Ranger,’ right? Once a Ranger, always a Ranger—or at least that’s what I’ve been told. Where you heading?”

“Belgium. Fortunately, there’s no fighting there. At least not yet,” I said, grinning.

“Nice, I’ve been there. Great people and excellent beer. Make your way to the Grand Place. On a warm summer evening, it’s a great place to have a cold one and just soak in the culture. Lots of pretty girls, too. You got business there?” He asked as he popped the cap off a cold beer.

“No, not the usual kind anyway. You could say I’m going to try to find myself, but that would sound like bullshit.”

“No, I get it. I tried that once …I started looking in Vegas, but no luck.”

We both laughed. But then Lenny got serious.

He placed my drinks in front of me as he said, “We don’t know each other, but can I offer you advice? Bartenders are required to go to ‘advice school,’ you know.”

I lifted the glass and took a sip. It was refreshing.

“Sure, Lenny, let me have it.”

“Well, I’m a lot older than you and have made my share of mistakes. Something I learned along the way is that you can travel ten thousand miles and still stay where you are.”

Tipping back the beer, I said, “That’s the second time someone used that line on me today! Do I have ‘Lost’ tattooed on my forehead? What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means that Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz was right. It means that there’s no place like home.”

I finished my drink, stood, and extended my hand. “You’re a wise man, Lenny.”

He shook my hand firmly. “Safe travels, my friend.”

As I left the bar and walked toward the gates, I noticed more than one with a few soldiers waiting to ship out. The memories flooded back. The last time I sat in an airport I was next to a gaggle of soldiers who just sat there staring out at the tarmac. Some, like me, had been there before and didn’t say anything. The only ones yapping were the newbies… the newly minted soldiers. They were clueless about what was coming. They just didn’t get it. Lots of tight bodies and shit for brains. They would learn soon enough. Then I remembered the day before I came home from it all. All the dust, blood and death were almost over. It’s been said the most dangerous time for a soldier is right before they go home. Complacency kills.

My last day in Afghanistan was something I’ll never forget. I sat down at my gate, pulled my cap down and closed my eyes, but more memories just crept in.

“JMac, JMac, wake up! Saddle up, man. Shit, we got incoming!” The Teacher screamed. Frank was our captain and he was also on his third tour, a real Rambo type. We called him Teacher because that’s what he did back in the world.

Nothing makes for a good night’s sleep like sleeping with your weapon. It was times like this that I was glad I did. There’s no feeling like cold steel. I thought maybe my last day would be nice and quiet, but I had no such luck. It was one more skirmish with a few dozen or so Tali, who harassed us on a daily basis. I could hear the incoming rounds as I grabbed my Kevlar and ran from my tent.

“JMac, jump on that 50!” The smoke and dust obscured Teacher, but I heard him loud and clear. I kept my head down and hauled ass to the sandbags, grabbed the 50, pulled back the slide and swung it around. The .50 caliber gun is a sweet weapon and the great equalizer in these kinds of dustups. This thing will cut a horse in half. Bring this weapon online and the Tali will scatter like cockroaches. All I kept thinking was I’m going home tomorrow to Elly. I’m going home tomorrow to Elly. I don’t care how many of these bastards I have to kill, I’m going home to Elly.

That fight only lasted about 30 minutes but it was freakin’ intense. We took a few wounded but like Teacher said, “Nobody died today,” at least on our side. We did manage to give 25 Tali a one-way trip to Allah, though, so score that for our side.

“Hell of a last day, JMac,” Teacher said with a smirk on his face. “I saw you on that 50 man. You’re gonna miss this shit, aren’t you? You love it. Don’t shake your head. You know you love it. What are you gonna do with yourself back in that boring 9-5, suit and shoes bullshit civvy world?”

“I don’t know, sir, maybe eat some real food, take a shower more than once a week, not get shot at every day, sleep with my wife instead of my weapon.”

He bent over with his hands on his knees and laughed, “Ok, sounds good, JMac. Just remember, it’s hard to let all this go. I’ve known a lot of guys who just couldn’t adjust to the world. Don’t let all this get back in your head when you get home. Don’t listen to any of that hero shit. Go home, hug your wife and don’t look back. All this…it don’t mean nothin’.”

“Copy that, sir. Hooah.”

Yeah, easier said than done.

The memory made me think about him. He was one hell of a soldier. He did three combat tours, wounded twice, Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. The teacher who became a warrior, the real deal, a lifer I think. The soldier's life was definitely for him. I think, though, deep inside, he was terrified about ever having to go back to being a civilian. I’ve seen it happen to a lot of guys like him. After enough time in country, you become it. You become the war.

He was right about going home though. Once those memories push back into your head, it’s hard to shut them out. The guys who say they put it behind them are kidding themselves. It becomes part of who you are. The best you can hope for is to block it out and bury it before it buries you. You can’t talk about it. The guys who run their mouths about it are usually full of shit. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell the stories. It was because if I did, I’d have to remember them, see their faces again, hear their voices and their screams, see their bodies. It's best to leave those memories alone. Keep them buried. Hide your heart before it breaks. Damn, I was tired. I pulled my hat over my eyes again and slumped down in my chair.

The next thing I heard was a woman’s voice announcing, “Now boarding… Flight 272 to Brussels”

I grabbed my gear, walked down the jetway and shuffled to my seat. It was a beautiful night so I just stared out the window and fixed my eyes on the Chicago skyline.

“Yo, soldier, I’m talking to you!” he said.

The big old cowboy sitting next to me had been running his yap about some bullshit ever since he sat down, but I had tuned him out.

“Oh, sorry, man, I was checked out. What was that?”

“Looks like you and I will be sitting together on this trip,” he said, holding up his boarding pass. “I’m guessin’ you served overseas, am I right?”

Damn. How do they always know?

“I did a while back. How’d you know?”

“I can always tell. You got the look. High and tight haircut. Bit of a swagger. Ranger cap. What takes you to Brussels?”

“Just a few days to see family. Then back home here to Chicago.”

“Nice,” he said. “Good for you. Hey, can I ask a question I always wanted to know?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You were there in the middle of all that crazy shit. What was it like… ya know, to kill a guy? Tell me what it felt like to drop one of those Tali boys.”

I knew this was the beginning of what was going to be yet another painful conversation about the goddamn war. All I could think was this aircraft had over two hundred seats and I ended up next to this jerk civilian contractor. Through all his babbling, I learned that the Defense Department brought him over to build a water treatment plant for the Afghan government. The worst part was that he wouldn’t shut up. He kept droning on about what it must be like…being in combat, having to kill somebody. He obviously had no idea what the hell he was talking about. I tried to discourage him with short answers, but the sick bastard wouldn’t let it go. I thought, if he says one more fucking word, I’m gonna beat him to death with this SkyMall magazine. What I really wanted to do was drag him off the plane by his fat neck, put a weapon in his hand and ship his ass off to one of those shithole caves where the Tali loved to hide. Injun Country, we called it. Let him experience it for himself.

I’ll never understand why people ask these questions. I don’t know how many times I’ve told guys like this, civilians, I mean, that I can’t describe it and that they could never understand it anyway. They can’t ever comprehend what it’s like to be there in the middle of it, in the middle of all the fear and the smoke and noise and the death, to fight for your life, to have your brother’s back and to know he has yours. They can’t even come close to understanding what it’s like to...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 15.8.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-13: 9798317813970 / 9798317813970