I hesitated, feeling my mouth go dry. "That's not for a friend. It's...worse than that."
She didn't ask for more. I think she could tell from my voice that this wasn't an easy topic to discuss. I could have left it at that — she wouldn't have pushed — but I felt strangely compelled to continue. She knew most of my secrets now, and she hadn't fled. That still seemed incredible. I never thought I'd actually find someone who would tolerate my bullshit. But now I wanted to know if she really could take it all, not just what had happened to me, but the things I'd done as well. There was more to my pain than loss. There was also guilt. So much guilt. Part of me was afraid of where the conversation might go, and how she might react, but I found my mouth opening nonetheless. Maybe I wanted her to absolve me somehow, or maybe I just needed someone else to understand.
"That tattoo is for all the other people who died over there."
"The other people?"
I nodded. "I had a pretty fucking naive view of military life before I joined. I had all these visions of heroic battles, fighting the good fight and protecting our freedom and all that propaganda bullshit. But the war over there isn't anything like you expect. It's not two armies digging ditches and charging with bayonets in the middle of an open field. It's sneaky and messy and brutal. Ambushes, night strikes, suicide bombers, air raids."
Memories were playing through my mind again, ruined buildings, bodies, smoke and screams. I forced them away. I didn't want to break down in front of her again.
"A lot of the fighting took place in local villages. The enemy was ruthless, and they were happy to use whatever they could to gain an edge, including civilian lives. People died because of us, Grace. Regular people, just minding their own business."
"But that's not your fault," she replied. "You were there to protect them."
"I'm sure our good intentions will be appreciated by all the families that we ripped apart." It came out harsher than I intended. I could almost taste the bitterness on my tongue. "I'm sorry. I know that objectively we were doing a good thing, but theory and reality have never been further apart than they are over there. The bottom line is, we brought the war to them. All those bombs, those bullets, they wouldn't have been there if not for us, and a lot of civilians would still be alive."
She exhaled slowly, her eyes pinched with concern. "Maybe," she replied, "assuming they weren't killed by their own government. And the ones that did survive would be living in fear, always looking over their shoulders. Look, I'm not going to pretend war isn't awful. It's an ugly, heartbreaking thing, and I'm sure a lot of innocent people lost their lives, but nonetheless, I think you were incredibly brave going over there. You risked your life to make the world a better place. You stood up for what you believe in. Not many people have that sort of conviction."
"I don't feel brave. I feel like an idiot."
"Well you're not."
I shook my head. "You don't understand! The things I saw, the things I was a part of..." I felt this horrible grinding sensation take up residence in my stomach. We were delving into the heart of my guilt now, the stuff that kept me up night after night. Maybe it was pointless. Maybe it was impossible to get it if you hadn't been there. But I had momentum now, and the words kept coming.
"Toward the end of my second tour, our forces were making a big push into the center of the country, trying to pry a little territory from enemy hands. My unit was always on the front lines, in the thick of the fighting. One day, we had a group of militants on the run, and they retreated into a nearby village. Our intelligence said they'd been using it as a base for the past few weeks, after the residents apparently fled, but we didn't have any more information. We pinned them down in there, but they had some heavy firepower and we weren't making any headway, so I called it in to get further orders, maybe some support. It was standard procedure, but this time..." I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut tight, as though I could just sink into that simple darkness and forget all of this. "Of all the things I've ever done, that's the one I'd give anything to take back."
Grace's hand wrapped around mine and she gave a comforting squeeze, but she didn't speak. It was one of those pauses that can't be filled, one that trembles under the weight of what is coming next.
"Halfway through the call, our radio died. The fucking thing never seemed to work right. I kept meaning to replace it, but..." I gave my head a shake. I was drifting, my brain desperately fighting to avoid finishing the story. "The brass sent support, but it was in the form of an air raid. We hadn't scouted the village properly. We had no idea who was down there. Normally, that would mean the bombers would stay away, but somewhere along the line wires must have gotten crossed."