Wings of Honor: Meeting The Enemy

Chapter 22: Saved By Sacrifice

Dear Daddy,
This letter is addressed specifically to Daddy. I hope you guys understand.

Hey Daddy.
I don't have anything other than to say: I love you.
You have been my biggest role model since the beginning. Even bigger than Johnny Cash. Even bigger than Cash Jones. No. My role model is the man who fixed planes with nothing more than a sheet of metal and a hammer.
I know that while me and Momma may share a special bond, I will always look up towards you. And if I can just be half the man you are, then I can stand comfortable anywhere and everywhere.
And, if I may, clarify what Momma has observed. You don't need to say that you're proud of me, or that you love me in the letters you both send. I know that you do. And I love you and respect you all the same.
I don't fight on for the fame, what have I to gain by being labeled a hero? I don't fight for the money, we all pitch in together, and I thank you for providing as much as you have. I don't even do it for myself. If it was a perfect world, I would be home giving you a tearful hug right now. I don't fight for any of these things. And while I know you fought because you had no better choices, I know you weren't motivated as much for these either.
No, I fight because It's my duty as a citizen. A citizen that you also fought for. I fight to never let anyone strike so close to us ever again. Only 2,334 miles of sea between Hawái and Monterey. So, to put it bluntly, I am fighting for you. I'm fighting for what I left back home. I'm fighting so that when you guys go to the beach and eat at Sapporo, you don't need to be afraid of a hostile country that could emerge from the horizon at any time. I fight so that you may never have to watch the tall grass fields for men lying in hiding. I fight so that my brother can go play in La Gloria's fields, without looking up and seeing waves of bombers over him.
That will never happen on my watch. Not to you, not to any of us.

So don't cry that you didn't raise me well enough to avoid war. It truly was something that neither of us could prevent, if it is any solace. Rather, I want you to make use of the flag holder that we have but never use.
Instead of crying over your prodigal son, I want you to honor the very thing that the both of us have fought for. Hoist that flag high and proud. Stand for the pledge, make Greggory stand if you can. And when you see that flag, think of the liberties you have. The security you take for granted. Think of all the good things given to you and to us.
Then think of me.

I love you, Daddy. More than you think I know. And I know you feel the same.
I will come home as soon as the last shot is fired.

Love,
1st LT Marvin Jerez

We had lost Turtle. We had lost Anemone.
Grace was... out of action.
And we were no better off than the day we first arrived.

I tried to reconnect with Grace, but she kept shunning me away. She wouldn't respond to my calls, always moving to the opposite side of camp, skirting the forest. If I was on the watch, she would be back at camp. If I was at camp, she would be at the trenches scouting. She would never let us be in the same place.
I sat down at the fire across from McManus. He had the next watch after Travers came back. I leaned my rifle against me, my broken scope and its holder still propped up in the command tent.
"Any changes?" McManus asked.
I sighed. "Visual reports no additional contacts. Mind-reading reports no additional contacts. No eyes on Moon, Turtle, or Anemone. Kinkajou is MIA, and Goldman and Darkstalker are still having a meeting."
"Damn," McManis growled.
I looked back, over towards the trenches. I spotted Grace, overlooking the hill. Her head was transparent, but the rest of her body was curled comfortably behind the trenches. She was looking toward the city with a razor-like focus.
"She's still pissed at you, Cap." McManis started, scratching his neck. "I don't want to know why."
I sighed, tearing my pleading eyes away from her. I just looked at the dancing fire. Flames licking away at the air. Small sparks and embers rising up into the air like fireflies. The bright burning coals radiating warmth and safety.
"She'll forgive you, eventually." McManis continued. "Nobody can hold a grudge forever. Give it time, and she'll come back."
"Time," I adjusting my sitting, "is something we have in very short supply now."
I fell into a coughing fit. Stinging my lungs, hacking up droplets. Not blood, it felt and tasted like it were. I wheezed, downing a sip of water from my canteen, gasping in relief.
"Sounds like pneumonia, Cap," McManis said gravely.
I wiped my mouth. "I'm not surprised. We've been in country for this long, with no vaccinations or shit like that. It's a miracle I'm barely getting sick now."
Only to cough again.
McManis leaned around the fire, offering a clean handkerchief.
As he settle back in, something weighed on him. He hung his head. "Cap."
I looked at him.
"I wanted to tell you earlier, but... but then you had to leave to go fight, and all this shit happened, and then Turtle and Anemone... I held off because I wanted to tell you myself, Cap." He met my eyes. "I overheard some... talking, with the base commander."
Chills ran down my spine. From the look on his face alone, a bombshell was about to be dropped.
"They were talking about a high-ranking family that put in some emergency paperwork. But... that the files were wrong. That the forms they used were for an enlisted man and didn't apply to a commissioned officer."
My eyes widened. I was already beginning to connect the dots.
"They said to hold onto them and send a response back. And that they'll forward the correct papers as soon as he gets back from the front."
I leaned forward. Supporting my chin with the webbing of my hand, my elbow on my leg.
"My family is trying to pull me out." I softly said.
McManis nodded. "With the information you've told me, I'd assume so."
I took a long sigh. Thinking of all the consequences of what would happen if I get pulled out.
"They'll get another officer for first squad. Maybe a fresh, plucky, First Lieutenant. We'll be alright. I'll whip him into shape."
I chuckled.
"They'll give you a medal. Tons of medals. You've probably earned ten at least."
I huffed. "Just give me my damned Purple Heart for disability, even though I damn sure can walk. Be like my dad." I looked over at McManis.
He laughed. Shaking his head. "Sounds like sum'n, Cap."
I chuckled, nodding with a small grin on my face. Still looking over at Grace.
"You ever been in love lieutenant?" I looked over at him.
McManis just about spat out his cup of Joe. He coughed, "Not what I was expecting."
I laughed. "Should've warned ya."
I patted him on the back until he regained his breath. Taking a deep inhale, exhaling through his nose. He hung his head. Chuckling.
"Once." He started. "I met her in the first grade. We grew up together." He smiled, chuckling. "She always said we would be soul mates." He threw up a hand. "All through high school. We held hands, went out together. Well, as fancy as we could in some low-punk town in Missouri." He laughed. "Ehhhh... I got a job there in that town, became a school teacher." He leaned over at me. "She had a garden in the back. Beautiful. She grew strawberries, watermelons, she even got one of them pomegranate seeds and grew it into a damn tree! Every kid on the block was coming over to try and steal those damn things!"
I laughed. "Yeah. Nah. Granadas, pomegranates, they're a pain in the ass to clean."
"Yeah, you should've told me that ten years ago. There wasn't anything white in that house after the first harvest."
We laughed it off.
"Ahh." Then McManis fell quiet. "But then the wars came. I was drafted, my brother had already enlisted by then." He leaned over. "We tried to stay in contact. A letter every day. Gave the censor a headache." He paused. "But then... as we moved further and further away, I could see it in her letters that she was struggling."
McManis stopped, rubbing tears from his eyes.
"One day, I got a letter from her." He sniffed. "It said: 'Chris, I love you. I love you to the ends of the earth, but I can't keep this up.' " He wiped his tears again. " 'I'm not breaking up with you, but... I can't maintain this relationship with you going off to fight.' " He sniffed. " 'So I'm gonna be waiting here until you come home to me, and we'll get married in Vegas. Until then. Don't let me hang in your mind any longer. Go out and win this war so you can come back to me.' " McManis sniffed one final time. " 'Love, Delilah.' " McManis wiped his tears away.
I nodded, fighting tears myself.
"I still have her letter." He reached into his pocket, pulling out an old, stained, frayed, folded thrice-over strip of paper. "I'll read it to myself before I go to bed. And sometimes," He sniffed. "Sometimes I'll see her in my dreams. And, we're together again, just for that moment."
We both sat there for a moment, staring at his letter.
But then he folded it away, wiping his nose. "So yes. Just like you, I'm fighting to get home, start a family somewhere out west. Maybe California, if we can manage it."
I smiled a little, nodding.
"I put my full faith in you, Marvin. Dare I say it, you remind me a little of her. Her tenacity, her stubbornness, her grit determination. You're gonna get us home Marvin. There's no doubt about it."
I closed my eyes, letting a tear roll down my cheek. I nodded.
Faint footsteps from the trenches caught our attention.
"Travers, reporting in. No additional contacts. Nothing additional to report." He sat down right next to McManis, rubbing his knees. "Did I interrupt something?"
"No." I sniffed.
"Iiii was just telling him how he's gonna get us home."
"Oh yeah," Travers exclaimed. "Eventually he always says."
McManis met him with a sharp fist across the chest. "Travers!"
"What? I'm just saying there are quicker and less messier ways of ending this war. That's all!"
"Oh yeah?" McManis sat akimbo. "Then why don't you enlighten us with your ideas."
"Really?" Travers was surprised, looking between us. "Well..." he obviously didn't think he would get this far. "We could start by getting the upper hand on the animus arms race."
"And how would you go about doing that, Travers?" McManus asked.
"Well," you could feel the heat coming off him, he was pouring all his energy into thinking. Something he obviously hasn't been doing in a long while. "We could start by making more animi."
"That's fucking insane." "Are you flipping crazy!" I exclaimed. "Who on earth could you trust with that power? Someone... who won't go crazy and abuse it like Darkstalker, someone who won't just be bought out for that power by some powerful entity. Someone-"
"Someone like you."
I turned to face the familiar voice.
There was Grace, towering over us, illuminated by the flickering firelight.
"Exactly what I was thinking!" Travers threw up his hands. Pointing at me. "You meet all the criteria! You said it yourself!"
"No." I shook my head. "I can't."
"Why not?" Grace asked.
I looked at her with the same face I saved for Travers. "You know why. I just can't okay."
"Well, why not?" McManis asked. "I, for one, would like to know what all this magical nonsense is about."
I sighed. "If you want animus magic, I can't stop you, McManis."
The Lieutenant smiled, getting up and patting me on the back. "I'm teasing. Jesus, Marvin. Stuff goes right over your head."
I sighed, shaking my head.
"It still doesn't answer my question though." Grace re-engaged. "Why won't you become an animus?"
I hung my head.
"Think about it! Four animi? That was unheard of even in the days before we got sent back to the past. And even with Darkstalker and Goldman casting spells simultaneously, we could override them together! It's foolproof!" Grace reasoned.
"THAT'S WHAT I WAS THINKING!" Travers yelled.
McManis slowly nodded. "She does have a point there Cap."
But it was when all the attention fell back on me is when I finally snapped.
"I just can't okay!" I stood up.
"Woah, Cap." McManis leaned back.
"Why not?" Grace pushed me back into my seat using her claws.
"BECAUSE IT'S TOO RISKY!" I stood up against her. "I have seen way less power go to people's heads. Corporals ordering around Privates, just because they earned an extra chevron just because they passed some fuck-off test to become an NCO! Generals calling individual shots when they never should have been given stars in the first place! Do know how many people have died because I had to follow an idiot's orders?" I looked around. "TWENTY-ONE! That's how many people who have been killed, because they wanted to be high and mighty and make a call of their own when they shouldn't. Just because they could, doesn't mean they should have." I sighed, looking down. "No. An animus needs a cool head with a long fuse. Because if they don't, they will get stressed very easily. And stressed decisions lead to mistakes, oversights. And when the possible permanence of animus magic is involved, there is no room for mistakes.
I wiped my forehead, pacing.
"And someone with the kind of power... to change the world at the snap of a finger, needs to be pure of heart, mind, and soul. Power attracts people, bad people, corrupt people, or the easily corruptible. So someone with that kind of power needs to be incorruptible to withstand that danger, or be innocent enough to at least lengthen the time needed to break you. Power corrupts. And absolute power corrupts absolutely.
"And, as an animus, you will be obligated to use your magic. People will come far and wide to plead with you, demand that you enchant something for them. 24/7, nonstop, every waking moment for the rest of your life. I would never wish that curse of a burden onto anyone, let alone the people I care about.
"That is why I can't be an animus. I can't handle the consequences of becoming one.
Well, maybe I could, admittedly, but it would take too much effort, more stress, too much... everything to avoid making mistakes.
"I already walk a tightrope as it is. I don't want to make it into a thin string.
The camp was silent. Everyone was suppressed by my outburst. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, I sat down.
Everything was peaceful, except a mind revealed itself, bubbling over with anger.
"You don't understand Marvin!" Grace stomped. "You need animus magic."
All that rage flashed over my attempts to hold it back. "How dare you! I'm not selfish! Sure, it would be cool, but the exact thing is that I. DON'T. NEED. IT."
"YES. YOU. DO." Grace motioned back at me.
"It's a threat to my soul, Grace. I'm a God-fearing man, and animus magic is a direct threat to my beliefs. It's like making a deal with the devil. Why would I risk losing everything I'll gain later for the power I'll get now? It doesn't make sense in the long run."
Grace gritted her teeth. I saw that.
"And plus, I'm a soldier! You've seen how close I've walked to that darkness! How I broke and went after Winter! I'm not perfect! I've killed, I'm soiled, my soul is not good enough to be an animus. If I do become one, will I live long enough to become the enemy?"
Grace took a sharp breath, looking away. "Fuck this protecting the future." She mumbled.
Turning back to me, she stomped again, roaring.
"YOUR SOUL IS FINE! It's healing! I've seen the future! You don't..."
"LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!" I covered my ears, trying to block out her talking. "YOU CAN'T JUST TELL STUFF LIKE THAT! Animus magic would wear me down over time! In all seriousness, someone or something would happen to you guys, or to my family and friends. I'd protect them, but in doing so, I wouldn't be any better than corrupt people using it for their own gain! I'd become like Albatross, or Darkstalker, probably Goldman!"
"NO, IT WOULDN'T!" Grace screamed. "If you become an animus, you'll be fine! You'll go on to fight the Japanese, win hundreds of battles! You'd win the war! You'd be a hero, not just in your world, but there as well! Something's coming, something big; but if you become an animus, you'll get through it! I even think you're gonna do something big for us, for me! You'll earn hundreds of medals when you get home! Your name will be well known from war rooms to kitchen tables! But..." Grace trailed off. "If you don't, I've seen the future. All those lines eventually fade away... into darkness. There was only one I saw you survive the end of the war. Marvin, this is your life at stake here! Don't think of the power, think of what you could do! Your life would be so much better! You could help so many people! Maybe even more than I ever could! Magic won't destroy your future, it would help it."
Grace walked up to me, gingerly taking up my hands.
"So... please," she begged, tears in her eyes, "let me make you an animus."
I closed my own eyes, a tear carving a channel down my cheek.
I could see what Grace saw. A peaceful world. A world without war. We were both back at Gonzales. I was running through the soft, high grass, Grace gliding above me. I saw poverty in Salinas, Chular, Gonzales, Soledad, and King City disappear overnight. Everyone lived in nice homes, had well-paying jobs, and had peaceful smiles on their faces. Every time we walked outside, I would be greeted by tens of people, all thanking me for various things. Although I wouldn't go for anything ambitious. I would find myself returning home, to Grandpa's house. Two stories, still with a huge front yard, with green grass and flowers, and everything clean and well taken care of, as was Momma's dream. The three-car driveway, with Grandpa's work truck resting between us and GG's house, only to be moved for the garbage bins. I would have my own room, still connected to Greggory's via a full bath with two sinks, the works. A gaming and general study room, with large corner desks for the both of us. A model train set that I bought and built myself, that ran through that room and my bedroom. And then Momma would buzz a bell to be heard in every room upstairs, calling us down for dinner. Stepha would have her old room back. The lower floor plan remained relatively unchanged, with Grandma still having the biggest bedroom, then Momma and Daddy's room, then Stepha's. The living room would get expanded, maybe with a bigger table for guests, a bigger couch, bigger open area. The kitchen would be equipped with as many air fryers as Momma could dream. The garage, a mini wood and metal shop for Daddy to build, craft, or store his refurbished Doble. Momma would cook pozole, and Gregory some Macaroni-&-Cheese. And after dinner, we would bring out portions to Gracebringer, in a hanger built specifically for her in the sleuth. Elevated so it could still flow water, and where she could help Momma maintain the backyard and the various gardens and orchard. We would love a quiet life, the same as we used to. Dad would still work because he could; same with Momma. Gregory would continue his education, and I would see him off to college. Grandma and Stepha would come back, and they would man the fort. And Grace would follow me as I got a job working with Southern Pacific, as a first-rate engineer. Grace would fly me down to San Francisco on Friday, and would trail me on my run to Los Angeles. Then, she would fly me home. Only to return on Saturday, where I would run the return trip from Los Angeles to Frisco. On the other days, I would spend my time reading and writing my books, since money was no longer a factor. I could live the rest of my life out in peace and harmony back home, surrounded by the people I love and care about.