Field of Blackbirds - Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (me reader txt) 📗

new team, together. He just wanted to observe for a while, listen to them. He was curious how they would unify despite their different backgrounds. Chemistry, thought Reed, was a must for this mission. It took the Italians a little longer than expected, but after everyone had their fill, Reed asked the waiter to clear the table.
Reed glanced at each of the men around the table, “Six months ago, I was in California, at Disneyland without a care in the world, except leaving those I loved. Now I am here, with fine soldiers, at this table. I think it is a unique experience for us to work together like this. We are drawn together from different parts of the globe. We have left our families and our homelands to solve the world’s problems. We believe our actions are noble. We are trained to fight and sometimes we are asked to shed blood. And by the grace of God, we live into the next day.” Reed posed the question, “What compels a man to this lifestyle?”
A moment went by. No one seemed to have the answer. “I’m not a man of colorful words Reed, but give me an order and I’ll carry it out.” Reed expected Otto to say something like that. It was the type of person he was, perhaps even the definition of his life. But Reed was looking for something less regiment.
Reed squeezed Otto’s shoulder, “I appreciate that Otto, but interestingly enough, I won’t be giving you any orders, only asking for your cooperation. I’m asking for your dedication. I’m asking you to lay your values out in front of me. The very reasoning that causes you to choose right over wrong at the exact moment the choice is presented. I want to hear the small, but resonating voice inside you that says, “Help that person”. Guys, I want you to introduce me to the man in the soldier.”
Reed’s monologue injected a new mood at the table. Marcielli hesitated, “Reed, in America, it’s an honorable thing to fight for your country, I know. The honor, the nobility, it drives your passion. I know you’re looking for conviction, but for me, it wasn’t my first choice to join. And recently, my decisions have removed me from the things I love the most; Marianna and soccer. But I am here today and I am willing to accept your conviction, if you’re willing to lend it.”
Then Angelo spoke up, “Excuse me, but what he means Reed, is we are with you. Go ahead and sell us the bill of goods, the way it was sold to you. The reasons we are here have been influenced by American idealism. That much we know and we understand what might be at stake. But I am a good friend to Florentine and Marcielli and I have won their trust. If I ask something of them, they respond, because it is important to me. It’s called loyalty. In Italy, it means everything. You’re a good man Reed. I can tell. I only suggest that you fish with a hook of loyalty rather than nobility.”
“I appreciate that Angelo, I can see why they trust you,” admitted Reed.
The truth was, Reed got exactly what he wanted out of the evening, the softening of barriers and the strengthening of character. He felt that he knew the make-up and moral fiber of his team. With that, he had direction. He never questioned their abilities. He knew it was their exceptional training and abilities that landed them in this predicament in the first place. Reed couldn’t expect them to think like an American. Americans were never like the rest. Growing up in the “Land of the Free” and the “Home of the Brave” would always mean something to Reed. He did feel honor in serving. He was proud to be one the best, most tempered, and highly trained soldiers in the world. Reed had a moment to himself, one that he could not share with the others. He let Lee Greenwoods, “God Bless the U.S.A.” play out in his head. For now, winning the team’s loyalty would suit just fine.
Reed placed his bag on the table and removed the operation orders. The team reviewed them and exchanged dialogue, each offering their own opinions and ideas. The Italians didn’t seem to be taken back much by the Intel. As a matter of fact, it was one area of their expertise. They had previously uncovered similar details from working so closely with the Croatians, who were also subject to a certain degree of affliction due to sharing a border with Serbia.
“Reed, you must know that these countries, the Balkans have been fighting for centuries,” Marcielli explained. “In the late 1940’s, the role was reversed. The Croats were committing atrocities and it was the Serbs who suffered discrimination and genocide. And centuries before that, it was the Muslims dealing the blows to both the Croats and the Serbs. It’s the only life they know.”
Reed fumbled through the photos, “Marcielli, you asked to borrow my convictions and I will gladly lend them to you. My convictions lie here.”
Reed handed over a picture of a small girl. She was standing in the rubble of a bombed out building. She had ash on herself and on her clothing and was holding tightly to a baby doll with a broken face. She looked frightened and displaced.
“Do you think that war is the only life she knows? I don’t think she understands war Marcielli. I think she wants her mother. I think she wants a new home. I think she wants a bath. Marcielli, I think she wants a new doll. In my country, these things are easy to get. They are taken for granted. Why can’t she have these things? Why? I think she should have them. I don’t know where we were when the Serbs were suffering genocide in the 1940’s, but I know of another group of people, approx. six million, that suffered genocide and loss of loved ones, the Jews. And I bet it felt darn good to be one of the soldiers that liberated what was left of them; to be someone’s hero. We live here and now Marcielli. We can be someone’s hero today. We can liberate that little girl. For the price of the meal we just ate, we could buy her a new doll, maybe even a new home. We could restore the life that is important to them, the simple things. I promise you Marcielli, it could be the most exhilarating thing you’ve ever done.”
Reed didn’t care if he was sounding too noble again. It was how he really felt. He hoped that the others knew that he wasn’t only talking to Marcielli. Marcielli just seemed to ask the right question. And now the team was clear on the nature of Reed’s moral fiber.
Marcielli never took his eyes off of the photo he was holding.
“The Americans have that way about them, don’t they?” proclaimed Angelo. “We could all use a little of that.”
Florentine felt that he needed to be included in the exchange, “I hear you Reed and I’m with you. But I was just wondering, it’s been over an hour since I ate last and we haven’t gotten our bill yet, can I order some more dessert?”
Otto laughed out loud, “Yeah, the lack of beer is getting to me. I’ll have another loaf of bread.”
Now everyone was laughing. Reed knew that Otto wasn’t used to this kind of talk, but he was appreciative that he was able to sit through it. Everyone enjoyed another round of desert and then they called it an evening. On the way back to the base Reed presented the idea of giving up military status. He was surprised at what little resistance he got. Everyone thought it to be somewhat adventurous. And none seemed to want to fall victim to another one of Reed’s powerful displays of persuasion.
When they arrived at the Italian wing, Reed thanked everyone for their participation.
“Tonight, my goal was to get to know each of you and help you get to know each other. I presented you with the OP orders and now you know why we’re here and what we’re doing. Now, over the next couple of weeks we’re going to be entrenched in a combination of intense, detailed planning and exquisite dinning. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Marcielli made eye contact with Reed as he was exiting the Suburban, “Thanks Reed.”
“I’ll make you another promise, Marcielli. You get me back to my Lindsey and I’ll get you back to your Marianna. We have a lot more in common than you think.”
Marcielli stretched forth his hand, “You’ve got a deal, Reed.”


Chapter 14 – At Creek’s Edge


Tuzla, Bosnia-Herzegovina 1992

Lazar knew he was dreaming. But he struggled to wake. He just had to open his eyes. He was uncomfortable. The bright light above, the loud noises, the inability to move was annoying him. Faces flashed in his mind; first his mother, then Dejana, Mr. Nowak and then Milla. He heard screams and saw people running. Finally, he saw Private Gavrillo’s face, the truck, the tank, flames. His body tensed as it wrestled his mind. Then . . . . .he heard a voice.
“Hey Doc, the Corporal’s waking up!” Radenko walked over to the cot Lazar was lying on.
Lazar opened his eyes. The urgency he was feeling dissipated. He reached up and pushed aside the bright lamp overhead. He started to see things clearer now. He was in a medical tent. Private Gavrillo was standing over him.
“Hey Private, I feel like I got hit by a train.” Lazar rubbed his forehead.
“No. Nothing like that! Just a tank, you were hit by a tank.” Radenko said with a facetious, but sympathetic grin.
Before Lazar could return the humor he looked over his body to make sure all the important parts were still there. Once he was convinced he was okay, he joined the conversation with the same looseness as Radenko.
“Well, I was just getting ready to throw my best combo, but I think I was blind-sided.”
Radenko played into it, “It was a cheap shot, Corporal. And the Ref was nowhere in sight.”
Lazar chuckled a little, but he was cut short by a sharp pain in his side.
The Doctor pushed aside the tent flap, “Take it easy, Corporal. You don’t want to rupture anything that still happens to be intact. We don’t have the medical supplies. We weren’t expecting this one. The Croats were supposed to be one hundred and twenty kilometers from here.”
The Doctor reached for a box of medical instruments next to Lazar’s cot and then headed