Wednesday, November 28th into Thursday 29th.
It had been a week since arriving home from my last tour. Cutting it short after getting hit with an IED... ruined my plans of staying until February. Coming home early is never easy. The stories I’ve heard. Men coming home missing limbs. Men coming home never to see again, never able to do anything for themselves ever again, but that’s what we signed up for. Im fortunate enough that I came home only with a hurt shoulder, some burns on my face and neck and a bad concussion, still able to feed myself and drive. Life was still the same in those depts. My mental health was shit and needed to keep that under wraps. The Gym helps, I was drinking Jameson every night, until I woke up on the bathroom floor with my gun next to me. That scared me and couldn’t put mom through that, again.
The gym became my outlet. I knew I had to stop drinking but today, today was hard. I left the gym early. Something didn’t feel right. It very well could have been my lake of sleep. I just had this feeling, and it was all too familiar. Something was going to happen. Im looking over my shoulders, waiting. Someone slams down weights, and I drop to the ground. I had to get out of there. I started my truck and threw it in to drive... panicking, my heart was about to beat out of my chest. I found myself in front of the liquor store with a bottle of Jameson in my hand.
Fuck.
I started to panic even more. I don’t even remember driving, parking, or buying the bottle. I don’t have this under control. Driving home pissed at myself, yelling, and punching the steering wheel, I see this girl walking down the sidewalk. She had to have had 10 bags in her hands. AND a case of beer. I can’t explain it, but I instantly felt calm. My body stopped shaking. She had long golden hair, it was curly. For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to say it.
“Elle”.
My first love, my best friend. Could it be her? Nio way. She wouldn’t be in Ca. She’s prob married now with kids, Happy. Shes not thinking about her childhood best friend. She didn’t care about me anymore. She made it clear when the letters just stopped. Everyday Id ask my mom or dad if I had anything. Nothing. She didn’t have a cell phone that I knew of. So, I had no choice but to write. Giving her a week more, I decided to send one last letter.
Elle,
I don’t know what’s going on with us anymore, I feel like we don’t write as much as we used to. I know life gets in the way, but I still made a point to keep in touch. I wish it were easier. I wish you lived next-door still. Not hearing from you since January has been the hardest thing. We’ve never gone that long without talking... what happened? Do you still love me? I think about you every day. You are everywhere. I haven’t been able to focus on school or sports since I heard from you. Do you still care? Who are we kidding. We live across the U.S. long distance relationships don’t work. They end in heartache.
I want to let you know that are and have been my best friend since 1993. Im so happy my dad was stationed in DC as long as he was. Our memories of the beach, playing outside, spending every holiday with your family.. ill keep them with me forever. You’re my best friend and I love you so much. Which is why this is so hard to do. Im saying goodbye, Elle. I leave for boot camp right after graduation. I know if I don’t end this now. I won’t be able to focus on becoming the best Marine. I cant keep waiting for your letters. I cant keep waiting for you.
Just know, you’ll always be my sunsnet. Take care of yourself, Elle. Maybe one day when the timing is right, if its meant to be, we will find our way to each other.
I’ll always love you.
-Raiden .
I roll my passenger window down as im slowing down. “Excuse me mam? “Do you need a lift?”. She wont even look up at me. “No im fine.”
Really? “you don’t look fine” I yell again.. She really didn’t want help.. I could clear see she was struggling... “alright, you have a good day” I say as I roll my window up and continue my drive. I just want to get home.
Ding.
“Fuck guess I need gas first.” While im pumping the gas... the feeling of guilt comes over me. Survivors guilt. Why did I live? Why didn’t Syverson live? I should be dead. This isn’t fucking fair. I rip the plastic off the Jameson bottle and take a long swig. It burns but I don’t care. I need to feel something other than numbness. As I’m driving, I think about that day, it’s been haunting me for the last week.
My last tour was supposed to go as smoothly as possible… at least as smoothly as a mission in Iraq could go. My Troop and I were driving down a street in Ramadi. Headed back to base to gas up, grab some more ammo and to maybe get some shut eye. I say maybe because when you’re constantly getting shot at, getting sleep is slim to none. We were lucky if we got 3 hours.
Riding shotgun with my Staff Sergeant, sharing stories of Thanksgivings. SSgt. Syverson is telling a story of how his grandmother always cooked the best pumpkin pies. Thanksgiving was always at her house because she had a dining room that could fit all of the adults and a kitchen to fit the 5 grandkids. Bragging about her pumpkin pie recipe won the churches Pie Contest 7 years in a row. She had a special ingredient only he knew about. Tbsp of Peanut butter. Not too much or all you’d taste is peanuts and it would ruin the pumpkin pie. Sadly. Thanksgiving 2007 would be the last time the family would get together at his grandmother’s house.
December 18th, she died. She had gotten sick out of nowhere and within a week her body started to shut down and passed away surrounded by her family. Syverson was holding her hand as she passed.
Syverson was a senior in Highschool when she died and had never seen anyone die before his grandmother, until he joined the Marines. Syversons Grandfather was a Marine and when Syverson was 7 he promised his granddad that when he was older, he would follow in his footsteps and join the Marines. True to his word after Graduation, he went and enlisted and 4 months later he was away at bootcamp.
Inside the cab of the Humvee was loud but you could still hear Syversons laugh. It was infectious. Nothing like it. Never even seen the guy get mad, other than when hadjis were shooting at us when he was trying to eat a handful of Peanut M&Ms. Never come between Syverson and his Peanut M&M’s. Something else he got from his Granddad. the sweet tooth for candy. Not to mention he was a spitting image of him. Genes are strong in the Syverson family.
Copy & Paste.
No doubt his grandfather is looking down and is proud of his grandson. Looking to my left to tell my story of Thanksgiving I’d never forget BOOM. A thunderclap of noise.
Everything went dark. My body had gotten thrown into the door of the protected armor truck as it flipped. The weight of the Humvee compressed 2 metal plates. One of them was connected to a power source and the other was the detonator. There had been 7 of us in the truck including myself and Syverson. After opening my eyes, the sound was so loud, but it was also silent. It’s hard to explain unless someone has experienced it. The Ringing in my ears, shouting sounded like it was blocks away. Then suddenly, my hearing came back. Corporal Stevens had been yelling my name to wake up while still taking fire. “Wake the fuck up!!”. Getting to my feet and looking around for Syverson, while also making sure I don’t have any holes in me, I see him.
Grabbing my M4 and to try and call in back up I cover Syverson with my body. Shielding him so he wouldn’t take any more bullets. He was barely holding on. “Syverson, stay with me buddy, Medevac is coming. Stay with me…” looking at his wounds… I knew I was lying ... I just didmt know if it was to Syverson or myself. I couldn’t lose him. He was one of my best men, we had been in the same unit for years. Holding his hand and looking down at him. “I got you dude, stay with me, don’t you fucking shut your eyes.” Gargling, Syverson tries to speak. “No dude, hold tight don’t try and speak, shut your ass up. We just gotta pack some dirt in these holes and get you home bro. Stay in the fight, I got you.”
Syverosn smiles up at me. “Don’t be a pussy, go find your sunset.” Coughing through each sentence. “Tell my mom I love her.” Then just like that he was gone. I saw the moment the life from his eyes left. Grabbing my Radio with my free hand I call in for Medevac.
Raiden: Golf Main, Gold Main. This is Warar Delta Hot Shot Over
Golf Main: Warar Delta send your traffic.
Raiden: Roger, stand by for MEDEVAC/CASEVAC 9 Line.
Golf Main: roger, standing by for 9 Line.
Line 1: DH6845
Line 2: Channel 4 call sign Hot Shot
Line 3: 1 Bravo, 6 Charlie
Line 4: Charlie
Line 5: Lima / Alpha
Line 6: X-ray
Line 7: Delta
Line: 8: Alpha
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Line: 9: Bravo
Waiting on EVAC over.
Golf Main: Roger, stand by for Blackhawk MEDEVAC/ CASEVAC bird 3 mins out.
Dropping my hand that’s holding the radio, running on pure adrenaline I didn’t notice the pain coming from my shoulder or the pain shooting through from behind my eyes. My breathing was labored, I couldn’t catch my breath, gasping only brough pain. I knew I was fucked up. I could see the Black hawk coming about the time my world started spinning. I had the sudden need to vomit, swallowing the bile. Looking back down to Syverson to speak when everything went black.
I don’t remember anything after that.
Waking up back in Triage on the base a couple hours later. My head was throbbing, I was confused. Trying to sit up when I felt a hand on my chest pushing me back down. “Not so fast hot shot” Laying back down and looking around to the nurse administrating something into my line. I instantly felt my body relax. Scanning the room and my body. I can feel I have my arm in a sling with a big ass bag of ice strapped to my shoulder, the left side of my face burns like a motherfucker. I can hear my heart beating in my ears… the thump thump thump making the pain in my head worse each time the blood beat through my veins. This was worse than the time I got blown up in bootcamp. Breathing still fucking sucks. I’ll just shut my eyes….
I wake up in fucking Rammstein, Germany. Pissed. I already know what the fuck this means. Theres no way Im going home. The poor nurse didn’t deserve everything I had yelled at her, but she was there, I was livid and damn my head was pounding, my chest was tight and felt like I had my Aunts big ass cat “Nugget” sitting on it.
“Sir, please lay down you have some severe injuries… SIR ! please don’t get up!” Ignoring her I start pulling everything off me and head for the door to leave this closet of a “recovery room”.
My head’s pounding and no matter how many times I blink, the white spots don’t go away. The walls feel like they are closing in on me. Darting my eyes around the hall, I see an exit and take it. I needed fresh air. Taking in a deep breath, instantly regretting it and coughing like I just tried a cigarette for the first time. Struggling to breathe, I looked to my right and spotted the bench and made my way over to it and almost collapsed down in it. “You Dumb Fuck” telling myself how stupid I am. I freaked out, I had to get out of that room. Its cold as fuck out here. Has to be15 degrees. Looking straight ahead is when I see the American Flag Draped Coffins.
Before I could even think about grabbing a jacket, my feet were already walking to them. Walking between each coffin, scanning the names, until I find what im looking for.
SYLVERSON.
M.B O NEG
254 58 4584
USMC M
CATHOLIC
The memory flashed in my head of him looking up at me. “Don’t be a pussy, go find your sunset”. “Tell my mom I love her.”
Fuck.
Pulling me out of my thoughts, I hear someone yelling my name. hesitant to turn around to see the nurse yelling at me. Upon turning I see Corporal Davidson yelling my name. “Raiden!... earth to Raiden... COLE!!!!” Shit, how long had he been yelling at me? I felt like I was in a daze... thoughts are cloudy... fuck, I had to have a concussion… did the Nurse say that when I was too busy yelling at her?
“Shit sorry, Davidson… Whats up?”
“Birds leaving at 2100, you’re on the manifest.”
Looking at him like he just spoke in freaking Spanish...
“Dude, are you fucking listening? That IED must have rocked you hard… GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. You’re going home. It’s been 3 weeks…you got like 3 hours.”
What the fuck?? 3 weeks? No way, I was JUST in Iraq “Yea man, something like that. Thanks for the heads up.”
“No problem, man, take care of yourself... It was an honor serving with you. Oh, and I saw some nurse running around looking for you. Just an FYI. Always have the ladies looking for you” he says with a wink. Davidson saults me turns around to walks toward the building to go back inside, but he stops and turns around.
“Oh, and Raid…I’m sorry about Syverson. He was a great Marine.” Then he turns and walk in the door he must have come out of.,
Leaving me alone with Sylverson...” he was a great Marine”
----------------------------------------------------------
Finding my place on the plane, I look to my right to see coffins draped with American Flags, carrying my Platoon, My men. Before buckling in I got up to find Syverson.
Walking over to him. I stop and give myself a second to find my words. My head is still cloudy and I’m still feeling dizzy. That nurse finally found me, and she was not happy I rolled out the way I did. I have healing GSW to my left shoulder, some burns on the left side of my face and neck, a fucking killer of a concussion, a few broken ribs and to top it off one of my lungs collapsed. Explains the dots and wincing like a little bitch when I take deeps breaths. Slowing my breathing and not caring if anyone heard me speaking from the heart to him, but I was happy I was alone for the most part.
Standing in front of the coffin. I tap the top then flatten my hand across the flag.
“What the fuck man…I didn’t get to tell you about a thanksgiving I’d never forget. So, I’ll tell you now.” Crossing my arms and standing straight to stretch my back and taking a deep breath but stopping halfway remembering my ribs are fucked and letting this breath out is going to fucking suck. “Thanksgiving 2003. My dad was on tour, so it was just my mom and me. We were living in Maryland at the time, so we didn’t have any family close by. Our neighbors had become like family. Mr. James would help my mom and I when I wasn’t able to be the “man of the house”.
“Dad wasn’t due home for another 2 weeks, so even though hed miss thanksgiving, having him home for Christmas, that alone is the best Christmas present ever. Anyways, my mom and I went over to James’ house. They had 3 kids, I was the same age and their 1 daughter Eleanor, Elle… you know… my sunset. We ate dinner, we laughed, we had pie and laughed more telling jokes while we all sat at the table. There was a knock at the door, me being “The man of the house” or trying to be, I go answer the door. Opening it to find my dad.”
Raiden Laughs. “It was amazing. I learned everything from him. He’s the reason I became a Marine and his dad is the reason he became a Marine.” I clear my throat trying to swallow down the emotion that wasn’t to spew out of me. “Anyways man. It has been an honor serving by your side these last couple of years. You’ve had my back more than a handful of times… Im probably still alive because of you.” Still trying to swallow a lump in my throat, trying to hold back my emotions but the need to cry was too strong. The sob finally breaking free. It’s all so foreign to me. I don’t let myself cry, shows weakness “Fuck man, you’d punch the shit out of my arm if you saw me crying right now”. I’m silent for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and speaking again. “Thank you for everything.” Taking a step back and standing up straight, I slowly my right hand to my head and salute my fallen brother.
Shaking my head, remembering the last time I saw Syverson. I will never forget the smile he had on his face the moment the explosion happened. He was so happy, talking about his grandfather and his favorite memory of Thanksgiving. Thinking about his family coming to base when we land to take Syverson home. We are scheduled to land Wednesday, November 21st. The day before Thanksgiving.
If Syverson only knew that he’d be home for Thanksgiving this year when we were in the truck. I can hear him now... “Yea fucking right, in my dreams hot shot”. The nickname had stuck since my first tour. We were taking enemy fire; these things were wisping past us faster than anything we had seen before. Syverson and I both thought for sure we were dead. Until there was a pause in the filing bullets, and I grabbed my 9MM and started unloading it. Once it was emptied, I came back around the wall and we both heard a “thump”. Looking around the corner and see a dead guy laying there on the ground that had fallen out of the window. Syverson looked at the dead body then back at me. With the biggest smile I’d ever seen on a guys face he looks at me and says “Goddamn Hotshot. I think you hit him with every bullet... the one in his forehead would have been enough.”. Since that day we had stuck by each other’s sides, and I was Hot Shot.
__________________________________________
It was a nice day in Palisades, CA. I usually like running but I was feeling a little bit stronger since arriving home. I could at least run at the gym. But today I wanted to focus on my legs and possibly do some PT. The doctor at the VA gave me the number for a well-known Physical Therapist, but me being the stubborn man I am, I refuse to pay someone for something I can do himself at the gym or in the privacy of my own home, without some stranger barking orders at me or having his hands all over me.
The headaches were far and in between. I stopped taking the pills I got when I was still in Ramadi once the worst part of these headaches was done rocking my shit and was able to see straight. If im being honest with myself, the headaches and the shoulder were the least of my problems. Since I had stopped taking the pills given, my sleep has been fucked. I don’t have problem falling asleep. That comes right away. It’s the dreams im having and staying asleep. The last 6 nights I’ve woken up in the middle of the night either screaming or jumping out of my bed looking everywhere for my gun.
Last night was the first night I woke up yelling and looking for Syverson. Once I woke all the way up, I sat my ass in the living room until the sun came up. Running through everything that happened that day. The last conversation I had with Syverson. How he looked at me and smiled right as we drove over the IED. The explosion coming from behind his face. Feeling the blast and shockwave rock his whole body, throwing me into the door, feeling the weight of Syversons body hit me while they flipped. The dust making it hard to see. Hearing gasps for air and screaming. Lots of screaming …the gasps kept getting louder and louder. I’m looking around, looking for whoever is gasping for air. Where the fuck are they? Until I hear one last gasp and im shooting up from the couch. Realizing, it was me. I was the one screaming and gasping for air.
Covered in sweat, it was 12:25 p.m. I know what this means and im not fucking happy about it. I’ve been good about handling his PTSD. I was Diagnosed after my first tour. Seeing a 19-year-old who you were just having a full-on convo withs head explode will really fuck you up. When it happened, I didn’t have time to freak out, we were under enemy fire, and I needed to take control of the situation. It wasn’t until I was home when my mother first noticed the signs of PTSD. I knew to put on a brave face when I was around my father but as soon as he left the house, the mask came off and my mom picked up on it right away. She saw her husband go through the same things. She was not going to sit around while her son was experiencing the same thing. I made an appointment at the VA and when the day came, my mother went with me as support. She was seeing things I was doing that I wasn’t aware I was even doing. I was drinking more, small sounds would startle me, and I become a paranoid motherfucker. Once at dinner while I was out with friends, there was a misunderstanding, and I freaked the fuck out. The Police were called, thankfully no one was hurt or arrested. The officer that arrived happened to be a Marine Veteran and picked up on my behavior. I also happened to be at a bar where the owner knows my mother and called her right away as soon as he saw the situation was escalating. My parents got there right after the officer and were able to take me home. My dad didn’t know of the other times I’ve had an episode, but my mother’s seen them. I was thankful she was there with me.
Once I had been diagnosed with PTSD and given anti depression and anxiety medicine. I would continue to take it for a couple years. Until my 3rd tour where I accidentally didn’t pack them. I stopped cold turkey. My mother still thinks im taking it to this day. No, I just got better at wearing a mask. But since I’ve been home, and I started having night terrors where Im seeing Syverson.
Walking into my room to throw some clothes on. I walked out grabbing my keys and my phone and im out the door. The VA has a mental health clinic which weirdly allows walk-ins. Jumping in my Dodge Ram and turning it on music blasting from the last time I drove. Fight of Icarus by Iron Maiden comes through the speakers.
“Jesus, how am I not deaf?”
Turning down the song and looking at the clock on the dash. 5:42 a.m. The clinic doesn’t open until 7 and it’s 45 mins away. That will give me time to get my shit under control, at least ill be the first person there. Grabbing my phone and plugging it in, I open my apple music and scroll until I find the playlist Sylverson made before this last deployment. “I CAN BE YOUR WHORE” Laughing to myself, he loves In This Moment… or did. He loved a bitch with a strong voice and that chick and scream. He was always scrolling his iPod for songs he wanted to play while driving through the run road streets of Ramadi, not paying attention. It was Corporal Stevens that had the genius idea to create the playlist. 256 songs later, “I CAN BE YOUR WHORE” playlist was born Hitting shuffle, “Half God Half Devil by In This Moment comes on and I turn the volume back up. Taking a deep breath, I grab the shifter, drop it in to drive and head to the Clinic.