Page 3 of Salute, To Bravery
Harper
O nce Haddad and the other prisoners have been placed in cells for the night, I report to Major Anderson, our unit commander, who’s waiting in the operations tent.
“Captain, what’s the status?” he asks, looking up from a map that’s strewn across a table and has markers and lines all over it.
“Five prisoners, sir. No casualties on our side. One of them isn’t in uniform and doesn’t fit the usual enemy soldier profile. He may have some valuable intel,” I report succinctly, despite the fatigue that claws at every part of me. I’ve been out on patrol for the last eighteen hours.
Anderson nods, marking something on the map. “Good work, Captain. Get some rest. We’ll debrief at oh six hundred.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say, saluting before I turn and leave.
I walk away, and the adrenaline of the mission slowly ebbs, leaving behind a tiredness that’s bone deep.
But sleep is elusive, as it so often is, so I head to the small, makeshift gym on the base instead.
Physical exhaustion is the only way to quiet the ghosts that haunt me when I’m unable to sleep.
Jamie and all those who’ve been killed by my hand or others’ are constant reminders of the fragility of life.
Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I lose myself in the rhythm of the workout.
Each punch thrown at the heavy bag is a release, and every bead of sweat is an ode to the living.
My brother is never far from my thoughts—a persistent, steady pulse in the undercurrent of my existence.
He is both my biggest drive and my greatest regret, fueling my determination to push harder, be better, and somehow make sense of his death. I miss him so much.
When exhaustion finally hits, I leave the gym, my body aching and my mind slightly quieter. The cold night air is welcome, and as I walk back to my quarters alone with my thoughts, the bright stars overhead bear silent witness to the life I live.
Tomorrow will bring its own challenges. More orders and maybe another mission. But for now, in the quiet of the night, I’m left with the understanding that the path I have chosen is both a tribute and a trial.
Jamie’s memory is a beacon that guides me. His dreams are now intertwined with my own, even if mine were once vastly different. As I close my eyes, I can almost hear his laughter and see his impish grin urging me on, urging me to stand without fear.
The next morning, I head to the makeshift interrogation room. It’s a small, spartan tent equipped with the essentials—a table, two chairs, and a dim light hanging overhead. I’m sure it’s been designed in a laboratory somewhere to be the most effective ambience for obtaining information.
Today’s task is nothing new. It’s the same as all the other days when I’ve interrogated prisoners before they’re transferred to Headquarters.
But the responsibility of it feels different this time.
I’m about to interview Rehan Haddad, the calm, eagle- eyed soldier who’s piqued my curiosity since his capture.
From teacher to soldier seems such a vast difference.
This is war, so it’s entirely possible, but I can’t quite get my head around it.
I enter the tent, and Rehan is already seated, his hands cuffed in front of him.
He looks up as I walk in, his expression remaining composed.
He’s giving nothing away, but I’ve learned already that he never does.
I nod to the guard by the door, a silent signal to give us privacy.
The flap falls closed behind him with a soft thud as he leaves.
I take a seat opposite Haddad. Setting down my files on the table between us, I turn on the recording equipment, so nothing can be denied later, and repeating the well practiced phrase, I identify myself.
“As I informed you yesterday, I am Captain Harper Riley. I’ll be conducting your interrogation.”
“I gathered as much,” Rehan replies, his voice calm.
His English is impeccable for someone who is a non-native speaker. There’s only a trace of an accent in his words. I can’t help but wonder where he learned to speak my language so fluently.
I pull out his file, flipping it open to review the notes that have been made about him so far.
“You’ve been cooperative,” I observe, looking up at him. “Why the compliance? Most captured soldiers aren’t so… accommodating.”
Rehan’s shrugs his shoulders. “Perhaps I don’t see the point in exposing myself to unnecessary suffering. We both know how these situations can play out.”
I study him for a moment. He makes me more curious than wary. “You were a teacher before the war. History, was it?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” he nods. “As I mentioned yesterday, I believe understanding the past can help us navigate the present and the future.”
“What exactly from the past are you using to navigate your current situation?” I ask, leaning forward slightly, intrigued despite myself.
Rehan’s gaze meets mine, steady and unwavering. “History is filled with moments of tension and conflict but also with dialogue and understanding. Even enemies have found common ground when the conditions were right.”
I pause, absorbing his words. They’re insightful, and they echo a sentiment that’s rarely heard in the stark divides of war. “Are you suggesting that we can find common ground, Mr. Haddad?”
With a slight tilt of his head, his response is immediate. “It would be beneficial for both sides, wouldn’t it? To understand rather than to simply conquer and destroy.”
The conversation is veering into territory that’s unconventional for an interrogation. It’s my job to gather intelligence, to probe for weaknesses, and yet here we are, discussing philosophy and history, and I’m actually enjoying it.
Philosophy was my favorite subject at school. I excelled at it, but when I joined the army, all that was forgotten to be replaced with duty, honor, and obedience.
I hesitate, wanting to hear more, but decide to steer the conversation back to more pressing matters.
“Let’s focus on the present, Mr. Haddad. I want to know more about the unit you were captured with—what can you tell me about your operations? Your numbers and positions?”
Haddad shifts in his seat, but his cuffed hands remain relaxed, resting on the table between us. “I’m not part of that unit. I don’t know their plans any more than you do. I have my own set of orders.”
I nod, acknowledging his admission. “What are your orders?”
He regards me quietly for a moment. “Captain Riley, I am reluctant to give you any information that may compromise my mission. I can tell you that I protect those I care about, and my end goal is to help bring about an end to this conflict. Perhaps we are not so different in what we want to achieve. The difference is in our methods.”
This acknowledgment of our shared humanity strikes a chord. It’s a brief glimpse into the man behind the prisoner, and it sparks a deeper curiosity within me that I can no longer hide.
“Tell me more about yourself, Haddad. How does a history teacher find himself in the middle of a conflict like this?”
Rehan looks away momentarily, his eyes losing focus as if he’s recalling a memory.
“Much like history itself, it was a series of events that were inevitable in hindsight. As tensions rose and the conflict continued, it became a duty for many of us to stand and defend our homes and heritage. But I’ve always tried to understand the broader context of our actions, and I believe it’s possible to learn from the past.”
His answer provides insight not only into his personal journey but also into his perspective on the war. It’s a narrative that’s not uncommon, yet his way of articulating it is uniquely reflective.
“So, you see this war as a continuation of history?” I asked, probing deeper, intrigued by his analytical approach.
“Yes, in a way,” he replies. “In order to find a resolution to war that ensures a lasting peace, it’s essential to look beyond the immediate hostilities. It requires both sides to recognize what led to the conflict and try to understand the perspectives of the people involved.”
I find myself nodding, despite myself. His words echo my own thoughts, thoughts I rarely voice. The room goes quiet for a moment, the only sound the rustle of my papers as I consider my next question.
“Haddad, if you were in my position, what information would you want to obtain from your prisoner?” I ask, genuinely interested in his answer.
“I would try to understand not just the strategy and tactics of my enemy but their motivations, their fears, and their hopes. Often, the solutions we seek aren’t found in what we’re fighting against but in what we’re fighting for.”
His answer is not what I expect, and it makes me pause. The direction of this conversation is unexpected.
“What are you fighting for?” I need to know more.
“Peace.”
This war, like all those that have gone before, is being fought for land, religion, and power. It’s rare to hear that peace alone is the end goal.
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean?”
“I’m not military, and I don’t support the current regime ruling my country.
I am not prepared to share too many details, but I can confirm I’m working in secret with local leaders, trying to negotiate a new path for our country.
Unfortunately, it seems my anonymity has been compromised.
I was about to be taken by those four government soldiers who you captured me with. ”
I’m sure Haddad must catch my look of surprise at that piece of intel. I thought the five prisoners were all together.
“I need my freedom so I can carry on my negotiations, and I also have to work with the US military to ensure everyone is on board with any demands,” Haddad continues.
“At this point I don’t know who to trust, except maybe you, but only time can tell me that.
I am hoping that your senior commanders will be aware of my existence and will agree to free me, but I can’t afford to wait for them to make their inquiries. ”
I nod because I know it may take a long time for Headquarters to confirm Haddad’s story.
He leans forward in his seat and stares directly into my eyes.
“Captain Riley, trust no one. You must not tell anyone else on the base about what I’ve shared, apart from your commanding officer.
There are too many people, on all sides of this conflict, who do not want peace, and many lives will be at risk if the wrong people find out about my mission.
I need to be given my freedom so I can carry on with my work.
I need you to believe me. I am relying on you to persuade your superiors to let me go.
Until then, I am unwilling to share anything more with you. ”