Matt thought about what they had just done — the raid, the fight, the dying, the destruction, and the ultimate personal sacrifice sitting before him. What had it achieved? He wasn’t sure he could answer that question, and that bothered him. Were they fighting now just simply because they could? Was this the modern equivalent to Grant having the Union troops build the cutoff canal across from Vicksburg, not because he ever intended to use it, but because it kept his soldiers busy until they had received all of their supplies? Where was all of this heading?
They stopped briefly at Ramstein Air Base where he made a short trip to the military hospital at Landstuhl, Germany, conducted his business, and made sure all of the paperwork was in order. It was hard to get back on the plane, but he rejoined the crew for the long flight home. He would be back soon. His mind wandered, searching for purpose perhaps, but randomly pinging against emotions that he knew were useless: anger, fear, frustration. The pinball in his mind rolled to a stop, lodged on a thought.
Soldiers deserve competent leaders just as children deserve competent parents. He looked at the coffin and thought of Zach, watching him singularly elude Al Qaeda on the full-motion video only to meet a fate he was certain his nation might only marginally notice. His nation had asked him to do this. He was a loyal servant, achieving state ends.
Likewise with Amanda, and her suffering at the feet of her mother and grandmother with the help of a court system blinded by political activism. Point man, spy, and infantryman in her mother’s fight against her father, Amanda’s youth had been drafted by a field general equal to Rommel in achieving her own goals and end states within the system. But like Zachary, where did that leave Amanda, and what did she get for her sacrifice?
The parallel was so obvious to him. It was not the individual. Their efforts were almost always heroic. The vacuous soul of a nation — aloof Pentagon policymakers, or a parent, separated from their moorings — created the conditions for both the soldier and the child to ultimately face their destinies. The good soldier, as well as the good child, will find the chance, the opportunity to break free from the ill-conceived plans and fix things from the ground up. An engineer may be able to design a car, but rarely can he fix it once it breaks. And it always breaks.
Nation to soldier. Mother to daughter. With that thought, Matt began to worry about the predicament that he had learned confronted Amanda. Perhaps there was something to be gained. Matt knew her to be her father’s daughter despite the trials of the past. Would she be able to access those forgotten and repressed memories and instincts? If so, she had a chance.
The good soldier. The good daughter. Father and child.
CHAPTER 63
The early-morning drive to the Charlotte airport was miserable for Amanda for several reasons. They were plowing through a thunderstorm and the resultant flooded streets. Her mother was giving her instructions on what to say and not say, do and not do, be and not be. And she really missed talking to Jake. She needed him, especially now that she had uncovered that Dagus, the one man she’d thought she could trust, was actually Del Dangurs and was working against her.
On the airplane, though, she chased away her dark thoughts of Dagus by reflecting on what she had learned last night from her Uncle Matt. How her father was a hero, and the effort they had expended searching for him. They had finally found him lying on the bank of the Kunar River after an Al Qaeda ambush. It was something no daughter should ever have to hear, but something she desperately wanted to know.
The flight from Charlotte to Washington Reagan Airport was mercifully quick. She deplaned, found her luggage, and began to call Matt when she saw him leaning against the wall, smiling. His head was cocked to the side and she could tell he was measuring her. It had been almost two years since they’d last seen one another. For a moment, she believed she had seen the ghost of her father standing there, they looked so much alike.
“Hey, Matt,” she waved.
“Darling, how are you?” He came over and grabbed her luggage out of her hand while he simultaneously hugged her hard.
“Okay, considering, you know?”
“I know it’s been hard. This is just something I needed you to do, for your dad.”
“I’m here, Matt. You know, maybe a month ago I wouldn’t have cared about any of this. But…”
“Things have changed.”
“They’ve changed,” she acknowledged.
They found Matt’s old Porsche 944 in the parking garage, managed to fit her duffel bag in the back and then found their way to the Embassy Suites in Crystal City.
“I got us a couple of rooms at the Suites. We’ll attend the funeral in the morning, and then I’ll drop you back at the airport.”
“Thanks for the ticket, by the way. No way Mom would have paid for it.”
She noticed Matt did not acknowledge her comment. Too much class or perhaps too much anger for all the discontent her mother had created, she now saw. But really, what did it matter anymore? she wondered.
They had adjacent rooms. Matt helped Amanda get settled, and then they walked to dinner at Champs in Pentagon City. It was a loud sports bar that had over twenty televisions playing at least ten different games. Music blared from one corner. A healthy mixture of young professionals and urban dwellers mingled comfortably. Matt found them a small table outside in an area staked off with a black wrought-iron fence. The spring air was relaxing, and she was glad she had worn jeans and a lightweight blue Northface windbreaker over her white knit blouse. She downed a full dinner of salmon and mixed vegetables and was having a nice conversation with Matt when he said, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Amanda paused. “Okay, who?”
“Her name is Mary Ann Singlaub, and she’s doing a big story on your dad. She’d like to talk to you.”
She looked at Matt a moment. His brown hair was full and soft, tossed from side to side yet not appearing unkempt. He had her father’s face, square jaw and high cheekbones. They could be twins. She knew Matt was younger but had always been impressed with his maturity and love for his older brother.
“I don’t know, Matt. All this is way too early, too raw. Plus, didn’t you see that hatchet job Del Dangurs did on him?”
“Just meet her tonight, and then you can decide later. She’s flying back to Charlotte with you. I think you’ll like her.”
“I’ll meet her. No promises.”
Matt paused, studying his niece.
“You okay, really?”
Amanda looked away, thinking.
“I’m doing better,” she said. “I’m talking to someone… and that’s helping.”
“Riley?”
“Yes, Riley. She’s in the hospital or she’d be here, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure. What kinds of things are you talking about?”
Amanda fidgeted with her fork, put it down.
“Things like why I treated him so badly. Why I don’t remember the good stuff.”
“Lots of good stuff.”
Matt watched Amanda struggle with the conversation. As an interested, but somewhat objective observer, Matt had seen the manipulation wrack Amanda.
“Remember Faith Hill at Fort Bragg?”
Matt smiled. “How could I forget? You sat on my shoulders the entire time. I’m two inches shorter because of you.”
She giggled, displayed what Matt thought was her first genuine smile.
“But I had no memory of that, Matt, until I went to Dad’s house, our house.”