Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [51]
They do not know where Matt is being held or why. Sergeant Ames is talking about hope, telling them of other cases where missing soldiers have been found, or rescued. He advises them to be patient, not to watch the news, to go about their daily life as usual.
The army chaplain is doing considerably less talking. He does manage to ask them to call him, any time of the day or night. He hands Angie his card. Ellie wants one, too.
“Girls, I want you to go to your room.”
“But, Mom—” Alice says.
“Alice, take your sister upstairs, please.”
Alice turns to Sergeant Ames.
“Did you say he was on a roof?”
“Yes.”
“He was ambushed and wounded on a roof?”
“Yes.”
“Alice, I’d like you to go upstairs now please,” Angie says.
The girls go, reluctantly. Alice sits on the upstairs landing to listen as best she can with Ellie sobbing in their bedroom.
Angie asks to speak to Sergeant Ames alone. McMurphy heaves himself out of Matt’s favorite chair and leaves the house, shutting the door very quietly behind him.
“The army recovers her own, ma’am.”
“Dead or alive?”
“We always work toward the best possible outcome.”
She looks at him.
“Believe me. We are on top of this. We will be the first to know if there is any intelligence.”
“Are you actively searching for him?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified.”
“Is that really all you can tell me?”
“Steps are being taken.”
“When will we know more?”
“It is my duty to keep the family informed, ma’am.”
“Do you have any idea why they would take Matt like that?”
“It happens occasionally.”
“But why?”
“Ma’am—”
“I’m thinking the worst here, Sergeant. Some real information would help.”
“Intelligence is usually the motive for any capture.”
Angie takes a deep breath.
“And how often do you recover soldiers alive?”
“I don’t have an exact number, ma’am.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s a small number.”
“Is it zero?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Are you going to make me guess, Sergeant?”
“Less than twenty percent.”
“Thank you.”
Angie looks out the window at the weak April sunshine shading into evening.
“Is he likely to be tortured?”
“There’s no reason to give up hope.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Reports vary widely.”
The careful management of information, or lack of information, is making Angie furious.
“My husband has been wounded—we don’t know how gravely—and dragged away by insurgents. He is presumably without medical care.”
“He’s strong, he’s fit; he’s well trained.”
“Do we have any idea how badly wounded he was? Or where he was wounded? Can you contact Travis Boyd with our questions?”
“I will make every effort to do so, ma’am.”
“My name is Angie. Please call me Angie.”
“We are instructed to—”
“Every time you call me ma’am I feel like a widow.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sergeant Ames with his raw haircut and bad skin ducks his head, embarrassed.
“Is there anyone I can call to find out more? Is there anything I can do for my husband?”
“You have my number. And the number for the chaplain.”
“Can I talk to a soldier who was there with him?”
“I’ll look into that.”
“Where is Travis Boyd now?”
“He’s at the army hospital in Landstuhl, Germany.”
“Will he recover?”
“Yes, ma’am, he will.”
“I’d like to speak to him.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“When, Sergeant? How soon can I speak to him?”
“I’ll make it my priority, ma’am. . . . May I make a suggestion?”
“Yes.”
“Go to work. Go to school. Go to church. Continue with your daily lives.”
“I’m not sure . . .”
“Sitting in your house for days or weeks can be demoralizing. Call your family. Call your priest or your pastor.”
“Are you telling me to pray, Sergeant?”
“I don’t know what your beliefs are, but most people find it a solace. We can also connect you with another family who has gone through this.”
“Thank you.”
“Shall I contact someone then?”
“I don’t know. Not yet. I don’t know . . .”
“With your permission, I’ll call