Page 5 of Salute, To Bravery
Rehan
I t was a big leap of faith on my part to reveal any information about my mission to Captain Riley, but from the few interactions I’ve had with her, I feel sure she’s the right person to confide in.
I know her senior officers will have to check out my story and confirm that I am who I say I am.
I’m also aware there will be military protocols and regulations that will have to be complied with, but I’m hopeful I’ll be given my freedom and allowed to continue my work as soon as possible.
In the meantime, I have insisted Captain Riley be allowed to act as liaison between the military and me.
I’m lying on my cot, staring at the rain cascading through a hole in the roof, when Harper appears at the doorway.
“Rehan,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of the deluge outside.
My heart quickens. This isn’t the usual time for her to visit, but I’m glad all the same.
I’ve become increasingly intrigued by her.
She’s not like any woman I’ve ever met. Despite my situation, I’ve been enjoying our conversations.
She’s soaked up my knowledge and imparted wisdom of her own.
She’s a beautiful and smart woman, and I can’t help but feel attracted to her.
I’ve not spoken to a female like this before.
Most of my students were male. According to our current government, a woman’s role is to cook, clean, and run a household for her husband, so an education is considered unimportant.
I’ve never held this view, and it’s one of the main reasons I stayed in education rather than marry.
I wanted to help encourage the next generation of men in my country to consider females as their equals.
I suspect Harper couldn’t cook to save her life, but her views on past conflicts and the reasons behind them fascinate me.
“Captain Riley,” I reply, keeping my voice equally low as I rise from the cot. “I want to assure you I was not making any plans to escape. I hope you believe me. I suspect the other prisoners were hoping I’d be shot.”
She steps inside, closing the door behind her, and from beneath her jacket, she produces a small package wrapped in cloth.
“I don’t know if I should, but I trust you. I brought you something,” she says, handing me the package.
It’s warm to the touch, and the delicious smell that wafts from it makes my stomach growl.
I carefully unwrap the parcel to find a small loaf of freshly baked bread nestled inside.
“Thank you,” I tell her, genuinely touched by this simple act of kindness.
Hot food is a luxury in these sparse conditions, and the bread is a welcome change to the bland food that’s been provided to me in the camp.
“It’s not much, but I thought you might appreciate something different,” Harper responds, watching me with an intensity that makes the air between us feel charged.
This is not the gesture of a captor toward a prisoner. This is one person reaching out in kindness to another. I break the bread with my hands and offer her a piece, which she hesitantly accepts.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, needing to understand her motives.
Taking a small bite of the bread, Harper chews thoughtfully before answering. “Because I don’t just see you as a prisoner. I see you as a person, and I believe that even in times of war, we should always try to retain our compassion.”
Her words resonate deeply within me, echoing my own beliefs.
“I agree,” I reply. “In the middle of all this chaos, it’s easy to forget who we are and become killing machines, monsters, who have no pity for those we perceive as the enemy.
Simple acts of friendship can remind us of our humanity.
Like during the First World War, when the German and allied forces put down their guns and played soccer on Christmas Day. ”
We sit in silence for a few moments, the sound of the rain a comforting backdrop. Harper then shifts slightly, her gaze still fixed on me.
“Do you have any other interests, apart from history?” she asks with a tilt to her head.
I consider her question. I’m aware she is trying to break down the barriers between us and gain my trust so I’ll give her more intelligence, but she sounds genuinely curious, so I decide to share something personal.
“I used to play the oud. It’s a wooden musical instrument,” I tell her, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth at the memory of my fingers plucking over the thirteen strings.
“Before I got caught up in this war, music was my escape. It allowed me to express my feelings in a way that words often couldn’t. ”
Harper’s face lights up with interest. “I’d love to hear you play,” she says sincerely.
“I hope to find my way back to music when all this is over.” The thought causes a bittersweet pang in my chest. “Tell me something about you.”
“I used to compete in archery before I joined the military. My grandfather taught me when I was just a kid. He always said the real skill wasn’t about aiming the arrow but learning how to adjust with the wind. It’s a tip that’s come in surprisingly handy in unexpected ways throughout my career.”
Our conversation drifts then to other topics—books we’ve read, places we’d like to visit, and our dreams of a peaceful future.
With each word exchanged, the walls between crumble, revealing common ground that goes far beyond our current situation.
My attraction to her is growing, and every day I am becoming more fascinated by the person she is.
I can’t allow myself to be distracted, though. I have a mission I must complete.
When it’s time for her to leave, Harper reluctantly heads for the door.
“I must go,” she says, keeping her voice low.
“But I’ll come again. I’ve spoken to my senior commander.
He isn’t convinced by your story, but he has contacted Headquarters regarding your demands.
I know you are refusing to tell me more about your mission until we have a response, but while we’re waiting, I thought we could discuss other topics.
As you advised, I haven’t told anyone else on the base about your role, and the CO thinks it’s better to keep it that way for the time being. ”
I nod back at her, relieved that her chain of command is taking me seriously. Hopefully, I can persuade them to release me and allow me to get back to my work. It’s vital for achieving peace.
As she slips out of the cell, leaving me with the remnants of the bread and the warmth of our shared conversation, I feel a profound shift within me. It’s a dangerous path we’re both treading, but for the first time in a long while, I feel a deep connection to another human.
I long to know more about this woman who intrigues me, and for whom I’m developing feelings I definitely shouldn’t.