Authors: David Capps
Staunton, Virginia
Tiffany Grimes bounded down the stairs, rounded the corner and headed into the kitchen. “Smells good, Mama.” Tiffany was African-American, five foot eight, medium build and attractive, with moderately dark skin. She was the youngest of four siblings, and the only girl.
“Mornin,’ baby girl. I’ve got ham in the skillet and the coffee’s ready. How many eggs would you like?” Joyce Grimes asked. Joyce was 56 years old, thin and full of energy. Her husband was a disabled Marine Major who knew enough to stay out of her way as she ran the family.
“Three eggs,” Tiffany replied. “I’ve got a long day on commercial airlines to get back to the sub base in Bangor, Washington.” She poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table.
“I don’t see how you can stand being cooped up inside that thing and being under water all of the time,” Joyce said as she started scrambling the eggs.
“It’s not like that, Mama. The
Massachusetts
is one of the most advanced submarines in the world. I’m very lucky to have been assigned to it.”
“Lucky?” her father George commented as he entered the kitchen. “It’s not a matter of luck, Tiff. You graduated second in your class at Annapolis. Your ship is the lucky one – you earned the right to be there.” Joyce poured a cup of coffee for him as he shuffled over in his walker and joined Tiffany at the kitchen table. “In the Grimes family, we earn our way – always have, always will.”
“How do you feel today?” Tiffany asked.
George sighed, “Seems like good days are gettin’ further apart.”
“You have trouble sleeping again?” Tiffany asked.
George grunted.
“The medication’s not helping?”
“It’s like the last one. Works for a while, and then I need more of it just to do the same job. Then it stops workin’ altogether. Got to go back to the VA and see what else they have.”
“And the meds for the Gulf War Syndrome?”
He shook his head. “Same deal. They work and then they don’t.”
“I wish there was more I could do for you,” Tiffany said. She worried about her dad. His health had been in a slow decline ever since he served in the first Gulf War.
“You look worried, Tiff. Don’t be. This needs to be a happy time. You got your promotion to Lieutenant and your first command position – a proud time in this family, a
proud
time.”
“It’s just the torpedo room, dad; it’s not that big a deal.” She felt somewhat embarrassed by the attention her promotion had brought.
“It
is
a big deal,” he replied. “My first command was just an M1A1 Abrams Main Battle Tank. That’s where you earn your bones – your first command. That sets the stage for every promotion from then on. It’s critical that you earn the respect and loyalty of your crew. After that, you’ll be on your way up the chain of command, just like I was.”
“Exactly how do I earn their respect and loyalty?” Tiffany asked.
“You give and then you receive. Just like in real life, baby. First you stand firm in what you expect of your crew. Always, always treat each and every one of ‘em with respect. Acknowledge the things they do right and firmly correct what they do wrong. No place for anger or frustration. Always remain calm, firm and respectful, and in time, they will follow you anywhere. That method led to me commanding a mechanized division in the Gulf. Damn, with all the smoke, the chemicals and the Depleted Uranium shells flyin’ it was hell-on-wheels.”
“George, she doesn’t need that right now,” Joyce interrupted.
He grumbled. “We were just happy to be alive,” he said quietly. “We didn’t know all that stuff was going to make us so sick.”
“George,” Joyce repeated.
“It’s okay, Mama. I understand,” Tiffany said.
“It’s not like she’s going into combat, for cryin’ out loud. We’ve got some ground action goin’ on, but we haven’t had a naval battle since World War Two,” he replied.
“So when does your ship leave?” Joyce asked, trying to change the subject.
“Not for another two weeks,” Tiffany replied. “I’ve got a Damage Control class to go through first.”
“Damage control?” Joyce asked. “Isn’t that what they do for politicians?”
Tiffany chuckled. “It’s not that kind of damage control. This is about putting out fires and stopping leaks and water from coming inside the sub that could cause it to sink.”
“Sounds serious,” Joyce said.
“It is,” Tiffany replied. “On the ground you can retreat, you can run. On a ship there’s nowhere to run. You either put the fire out and stop the leaks or it’s over.”
“See,” George said. “It’s safer in an Abrams Tank.”
“George,” Joyce said more sternly.
“Just sayin’”
Tiffany and her dad shared a glance and a smile.
After breakfast Tiffany packed her small travel bag and joined her mother in the car.
“The military’s a hard place, baby girl, especially for a woman. You’ve got to work hard to earn their respect,” Joyce said.
“I know,” Tiffany replied. “Captain Jacobs sets the standard for respect and performance on the sub, Mama. He’s a good man and a good officer. A great mentor, too. I’m learning a lot from him. He’s always teaching us about how people think and act and how that determines how they fight. He’s spent his career developing new tactics for submarine warfare and confrontations. He’s one of the best the Navy has. It’s an honor to serve with him.”
“I just worry about you, baby girl, that’s all,” Joyce replied.
I’m fine, Mama. Things are going really well.”
“I know, baby. It’s a mother’s job to worry. I just want you to be safe.”
With the car parked, Tiffany and her mom walked into the airport. Tiffany hugged her mother, who kissed her on the forehead.
“Take care, baby girl, and make me proud.” Joyce said.
“I will, Mama. I will.”
Eastern Sichuan Province, China
Quietly the morning light appeared, and with it, other than the aftershocks, the first sound Guang Xi had heard since the earthquake. The sound of copper goat bells gradually woke him. Three goats approached, the smallest one licking his face. He struggled to get the small animal away from him. That’s when he noticed a goat herder standing twenty feet away examining the massive rock wall, which stood like the Great Wall of China, solid, formidable and impenetrable.
“Over here,” Guang Xi yelled.
The goat herder turned and looked at Guang Xi with a shocked expression on his face. He paused and stepped back, uncertain of what he should do.
“Get me out of here,” Guang Xi screamed.
The man slowly approached. “How long have you been stuck here?” he asked.
“Since it happened,” Guang Xi answered.
The goat herder knelt down and brushed some of the dirt from around Guang Xi, stopping when he encountered a large rock. “This rock is on top of you?”
“Yes, of course it is,” Guang Xi answered. “My right foot is pinned underneath it.”
The goat herder stood up, considering what to do. “I am going to need help, and tools.” He gave Guang Xi a container of water to drink and some dried meat from his pouch. “I will return,” He said, as he turned and left.
Guang Xi quickly drank the water and devoured the dried meat. Strength and hope rose once more within him.
I’m getting out of here!
Three hours later the goat herder reappeared with two other men Guang Xi recognized as the ones who had helped dig the holes for his instruments. They used wooden shovels to remove the dirt from around the side of the large rock.
Guang Xi felt the large rock shift as the men completed digging the other side free of dirt. The three of them put their tools down and braced themselves against the large rock. As they heaved together the large rock rolled and Guang Xi’s pinned foot came free. He was lifted from the hole and laid on a stretcher. The journey back to the small village was rough with each bounce and shift generating stabbing pains in his right foot and shin. The men carrying him kept watching his face as they appeared more and more concerned.
It was mid-afternoon as they entered the village. “What is that smell?” Guang Xi demanded. The men carrying him nodded over to the left. Twenty people used wooden hoes and wooden shovels to dig a mass grave for the people who had died in the earthquake. The odor of decomposing flesh permeated the air. More than a hundred of the dead were lined up in rows on the ground as Guang Xi was carried past them and into what remained of the village. Not a single building remained standing.
Guang Xi spent the night in a make-shift shelter. He worried about Meili.
She knows I’m out here. She must have heard about the earthquake. She may think I’m dead.
He wondered how long it would take to get back to Beijing and let her know he was okay.
As the early light of dawn arrived, Guang Xi was placed on a litter as were the other injured people from the village. Men and women took turns dragging the litters along the side of the train tracks. They headed single file to the southeast toward the first city on their way to Chengdu, the provincial capital, more than 60 miles away.
The train track they were following had hundreds of broken sections. At one place the ground had lifted over four feet, leaving bent pieces of train track hanging in the air. Later that afternoon, they climbed over a landslide that covered the train track to a depth of over fifty feet and extended for half a mile. That evening they shared what little food they had left and drank sparingly of the small amount of water they carried. The night was cold and exhausting without shelter. At first light they began their trek again, slowly working their way to the nearest city and the hope of food and water. That evening they reached Yingxiu.
All throughout their travels to Yingxiu, Guang Xi couldn’t shake the memory of the curtain of light over the fault.
What caused the light? It was so intense, so burning.
He searched his memory for any reference to lights around earthquakes. Once in a great while there was a mention of light in the area close to an earthquake, but only at night.
Nothing in the daylight. What caused the light?
Arriving in darkness, it was difficult to see how much damage the city had sustained, but the large amount of scattered bricks and cement blocks spewed over the streets was not encouraging. Guang Xi and the villagers were welcomed into the community and immediately provided with food and water. What little shelter there was was reserved for the injured, and there Guang Xi and the other villagers on litters were housed.
In the light of oil lanterns a doctor squatted down and examined Guang Xi. The doctor was short, medium build, almost bald with thick-rimmed glasses. His white lab coat was soiled and wrinkled. He removed the wrappings from Guang Xi’s hands and feet and examined them in detail. He used a pair of scissors to cut Guang Xi’s right pant leg from the bottom cuff to mid-thigh. Spreading the cloth wide the doctor poked and examined the extent of damage. Guang Xi looked down at his leg. The entire foot had turned black and was badly twisted. The black extended three inches above his ankle, gradually becoming dark red, and finally bright red around the knee. Guang Xi fell back, his mind racing and his breath quickening.
“How bad?” Guang Xi asked the doctor who studied Guang Xi’s face and hands, ignoring the question.
“Where did you get these burns?” the doctor asked.
“The light over the fault line,” he replied.
“What light?” the doctor asked. “It was an earthquake. You’re the only one I’ve seen with burns like this. Where did you get these burns?”
“My leg,” Guang Xi said. “Antibiotics.”
“We don’t have any,” the doctor replied. “We ran out of supplies two days ago. Where were you?”
“I was at the fault line,” Guang Xi replied. “I’ve been working there for the last two months. Contact Dr. Huang, Peking University in Beijing. I work for him. Am I going to lose my foot?”
The doctor stood and walked out of the shelter.
* * *
Guang Xi woke to the rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades. People ran toward the sound excited at the first arrival of outside help. Several minutes later the doctor walked into the shelter with a tall, thin man in an army uniform.
“This is the patient I told you about.”
The man in the army uniform was an officer and a doctor, based on what Guang Xi could see of the insignia and bars. The officer looked him over quickly and then focused on Guang Xi’s right ear and face. The officer pulled at the skin and closely examined a piece that broke off in his hand. Guang Xi didn’t feel any pain but was horrified at the darkened piece of his ear in the officer’s hand.
“Where were you?” the officer asked.
“The fault line,” Guang Xi said.
“During or after the earthquake?”
“Before and during,” Guang Xi replied.
“Before?”
“Yes.”
“And you work for Dr. Huang?”
“Yes. I’m his top graduate student.”
“He’s coming with us,” the officer said.