Dropping Eaves, and the War Hero

When I'm out by myself, and there are people around me having conversations, of course I can't help but listen in a little bit. I don't think it's really an encroachment on their privacy--if it's a conversation they can have in public, it can't really be that private, right? Anyhow, usually the conversations I hear are fairly dull--teenage girls harping about their boyfriend problems, older people exchanging stories about their kids and grandkids, college students discussing homework.

Recently, though, I was sitting outside on the patio of Barnes & Noble, drinking a cup of overpriced coffee and doing homework, when a group of people sat down at the table behind me. I couldn't see them, but I could hear everything they said.

First, two men sat down--one much more talkative than the other. The chatty one was saying things like, "Well, he should be here soon. Do you want a pretzel? This is a great opportunity. You're comfortable with this, aren't you?" The other man just mumbled short responses, most of which I couldn't understand.

Then a young woman came up to them with three coffee cups. "Here you go," she said, "and this one's mine, and--Shawn, do you want one?" Shawn mumbled. "What was that?" "He doesn't want it," translated the talkative man. "Shawn, are you sure?" Shawn mumbled again.

At this point, a man, a woman, and two kids--a boy and a girl--turned up at the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I heard the talkative man stand up. "Hello," he said. "I'm Cal, and this is my fiancee, Anna, and this is my brother, Shawn." The other man--who hadn't sat down yet--said, "Yes, good to meet you. I'm Mark, and this is my wife Lisa, and these are our children." I don't remember the children's names; they mostly just chased each other around the patio. "Shawn, glad to finally meet you. How are you doing, son?" I heard Shawn stand up. "Fine, sir." He sat down again.

Cal said, "Shawn's been looking forward to this, haven't you, Shawn?" I didn't hear Shawn say anything. "He's been doing very well since he's been home with us. He's been walking for a good long while now, and he's actually learning how to drive again--he wants to buy a truck. We were out looking at trucks just today, in fact." Mark laughed. "A truck," he said. "Is that right, Shawn?" "Yessir," Shawn said. "I've got a truck myself--one of the new Toyotas. They're nice to have."

They all made small talk for a while--trucks and the weather and other things. The women talked about kids for a while. The men talked about their wives/fiancees. Not much was said for a while. Finally, there was a pause, and Mark spoke.

"Look, Shawn. What I'm asking from you--and I hope you'll be comfortable with this--is to let us tell your story."

Shawn was silent.

"It's an important story to tell, Shawn. It's important for people to hear. For these young kids--these ones who are just getting ready to go over there--they're a little unsure, Shawn. It's scary. You remember that, I remember that. But your story is inspiring--it will inspire them, Shawn, and that's important. This is an important story for these young soldiers to hear."

At this point, Mark's son ran past me and up to his father. He asked him for money, and then ran off to buy hot chocolate. Mark laughed, and watched him run away. "He wants to join the service someday," Mark said. "He's a very patriotic kid. That American flag pin on his collar--he wears it all the time, every day."

Cal laughed. "Good kid."

"Yeah," Mark said. "But look, Shawn--the important thing is that you're comfortable with us sharing your story. You have to be comfortable with it--if you're not, we won't do anything. But I'd really like you to consider it."

Shawn cleared his throat. "I don't know," he said, "if I'm--comfortable. With it."

"Well, first," Mark said, "let's make sure we're on the same page here. Let me recount the story as I understand--from talking to your brother here on the phone--and you make sure it's accurate.

"As I understand it, you were in Iraq. You and some other men were firing from inside a building that was under attack--what kind of building was it?"

"It was--a government building," Shawn said. "I don't--I don't remember."

"And you were inside this building, and somebody had to go up on top of the roof to throw a grenade to a certain point, and your general was on his way up there, the thing in his hand, and you stopped him--you stopped him and you said that he had a wife and kids, to let you go up there, it was too much of a risk for him. And you took it from him, and you went up there, and you did what had to be done, and you were shot several times, and even as you were down on the ground--even as you lay there, bleeding, you still tried to get up and keep fighting. You kept on going. Is that right?"

Shawn cleared his throat again. "Yessir. And I was up there on the--the--what is it called?" "The roof?" "No." "The--elevation?" "That's right, the elevation. And some other men came up, to try and help me, and I wanted to keep fighting, and they pulled me--they pulled me down inside, off of the--what's it called again? I can't remember." "The elevation." "They pulled me off the elevation, and I went unconscious down there."

"You saved a lot of lives that day."

Shawn didn't reply.

"Do you think you'll retire soon?"

Shawn coughed. "I want to go back."

"Pardon?"

"I said, I want to go back."

"We all want to go back, Shawn. I want to go back, and I retired three years ago. From what your brother tells me about your condition, you may not be able to go back."

"I don't care. I still want to go back."

"I understand. Shawn, please--share your story. I want to allow all these other kids to have that same feeling--that same passion for it. But only if you're comfortable with it. Think about it."

Shawn was silent for a minute. "I want to share it."

"I'm glad, Shawn. You're a hero. You are truly a hero."

Cal stood up. "I think we have to go--we're supposed to eat dinner with my mother. She's been--I don't know. We saw that war movie the other day, the Clint Eastwood one, what is it? Flags of Our Fathers? And she just wouldn't leave Shawn alone--'Are you sure you can handle this, Shawn? Are you okay?' And I just wanted to yell, 'Ma! Let him watch the movie!'"

Everyone laughed. There was an exchange of "Nice-to-meet-yous" and "Hope-I'll-see-you-agains," and Mark told Shawn one last time, "You're a hero, Shawn. Don't forget that."

They all walked past me to leave, and I could pick out Shawn because of the strange way his arm was shaped, because he had an odd limp, because his head leaned to the side. And I thought, that man is a hero. I'm not interested in war, I don't think it's right or noble--but as I watched him walk away, I could only think, that man is a hero, and I wanted to shake his hand or kiss his cheek or just tell him thankyouthankyouthankyou. But I didn't--I just watched him walk away, and went back to my homework and my coffee.