a kiss

Soft to the touch, a taste of pure delight, soft movements they coincide. Brushing, exploring the boundaries of the ark, realizing the emotion that is being withheld. Slowly it starts, slow it stays, drawing out the time of connection to feel the power it brings. Together they formulate what is known as a sign of affection, a sign that grows into a kiss.

a boys dream

A boy and his dream is a special thing that many cannot understand. To the boy his dream is all that matters, his dream is what invigorates his mind, what allows him to lose control but know exactly where he is going. Thinking uncontrollably of his dream they boy is so close, he has his dream in the palm of his hand, he has the key to unlock those things. A boy has his dream, a boy will get his dream with the proper motivation, and the image of his dream drives him to get it.

stand

When the storm becomes to much to bear, stand. When all seems lost and nothing is fair, stand. You must trust in yourself and find the courage to stand in the face of adversity. When you feel as though you have lost your way along the darkened path, stand. When you open teh door only to find another door closed, stand and find that open window. When the road you are trudging seems all uphill, stand. If you feel as though you have struck out, stand. Stand for who you are, stand for what you believe in, stand your ground. For when nothing seems to work, you can always stand.

one, two, three

One, two, three. One, two, three counting the steps you sway back and forth, moving with the beat, creating a harmony between you and your feet. One holds you close as the rain of notes washes over you leaving you dry but drenched to the sould with feeling. One, two, three, you flow around the room. One, two, three you swirl with the storm and feel connected with the energy that dances its way through the hall. One, two, three you dance as though you are free, and for that moment you are. One, two, three and the magic happens, you are free.

hercules

A watchful protector that is part man and half god. But the best friend a guy can have. He watches and protects those that are close to him. His heart is pure, his mind is set, he cannot be detoured from his fight for what is right. His name will be known across the lands not only for his voice but that of his strength, physically and spiritually. Like a rock he will build on a land and like the sun spread the news to the world. As a friend and brother he will remain, he is Andrew Hercules. A musical dynasty by day, a beacon of hope and a superhero everyday whether night or day. His name will be known far and wide, spoken with reverence and honor, the world will whisper, Andrew Hercules.

summer of two hearts

A short blissful time it was, a long romantic date was what the music played. They yellows and blues played a perfect harmony for the two hearts that danced in the red of the fading summer sun. Joy was found, sorrow came around. One cannot move on but will always wait for summer to come around. To sit in the car and cruise the town counting down the days that the second heart may return. Closing the eyes, the harmony begins to play once more for the two, always can one visit the night of dancing hand in hand, walking the carnival, seeing that love was locked up tirhg hand in hand, but summer has to wait to come around. The days were never so long, the nights have no meaning, to hear the waves crashing, echoing the sounds of summer coming around. Close the eyes in the car driving the frozen town remembering spinning around cherishing the summer that came around. But the board walk next to the ferris wheel stays silent, screams of laughter are silenced when the heart realizes that it ends, that summer has not come around. For long years one has counted the days until the second heart may come back to walk hand in hand and kiss the mouth of the summer that came around.

tonight i want to cry

Tonight is another night. Tonight is another night that I move on, tonight is a night I just want to cry. Emotions never been a strong point, but now tonight I just want to cry. Tonight a drunken rain will fall from my eyes no matter how many rays of sun try to fight there way into my eyes, the rain will remain. Tonight is another long night that reflects upon the pain I have, I banish my pride to hell to rid the bitter taste of my mouth, but tonight I just want to cry. Being strong enough was not enough, for tonight I just want to cry.

think of me

Think of me. Think of me at night when that moon shines in as a spotlight to redirect your mind to those memories, think of me. When they day gets long, think of me, when the night is cold and the sun won't rise, think of me. When the times get tough, when the days are sunny, when life is great, when you are sad, think of me. Take back what you must, take your records, take those memories, I don't need them, but the one thing you cannot take is when you will think of me.

the mask

Behind the mask is a man, just a man, not a superman but a regular man trying to find his place in the world. The mask allows him to hide from the world, allows him to shadow his doubt and fool the world. For behind the mask are secrets. The mask allows him to hide things away from the world, allows him to keep things to himself so that the world cannot use them agaisnt him, so that life cannot kick him to the ground and continue to bang him around. Many have tried to unleash what is behind his mask, none, except one has truly succeeded and that is when the mask takes him to his knees. Many know of what lies behind the mask, but none know why he wears the mask, for behind the mask is who this man wants to be but has not the courage to remove his mask and give his all. But there is hope, day by day his mak cracks as he finds who he is and wehre he is meant to be. One day the mask he will remove and cast to the ground as an unwanted stone, and then there will be no more mask, instead in its place, just a man.

sweet and tender, sweet and bitter

Sweet and tender are the mercies of life. Sweet and bitter can the experiences of life be. In the blink of an eye sweet can become bitter and one may want to change that of life. One may want to change an outspoken statement to keep one from wondering. One may want to make things crystal clear. Tender may be mercies but life is supposed to be enjoyed but there will be they days we endure. What does not kill us will make us stronger but if we are not careful that which makes us strong can over power and kill us. To balance the nature of life is what makes bitter become sweet and sweet to become bitter. The sugar of life can be salt at times but with enduring to the end and finding the enjoyment is when the tender mercies swoop in.

a time and a place

A time and a place there is for everything. We may not always agree with the cards that life deals us each day but we can accustom to the demands of the players. A time is the first step, the wrong time has consequences that many fear. A place one may live and fear to step ouf of for the fear of the time. With both combined no one can run out of time. A time and a place are needed to correct the dealt cards of life. Our job is to make sure we issue the correct time and place.

people will

People will always think what they want to, people will always assume that what not may be true. People will twist words to confuse the speaker and to make a different image. Identity is one thing that some have only that to hold onto. They spend their entire existence to gratify their image and show the world they are good, that their morals may ring true. In one sentence, with one question that can all crash down as a meteor shower destroying the confidence and image of the victim. One must be careful of the statements they make. One must watch the questions they ask, one must watch what they don't say, for all of that will cause some to wonder of the image before them.

Escape

Escape is necessary, escape is mandatory. Trapped in a place for so many years, biting the tongue from so many incidents but still managing to cause problems. One must learn to hinder emotions and wait patiently for the chance to escape. One must watch carefully for when they door of oppurtunity opens ever so slightly while monitoring that of what is said to keep relations spread underneath watching, waiting, wanting to escape.

change

At times a change is what the body requires to connect with the wind. A change of place is a healthy matter that must be carefully sought out. To get away from everything and let parts of life crumble that for the betterment should not be rebuilt and to strengthen that which is to remain intact. One must get away for more reason than one. To escape the drama of life one must get away. There are not enough hours in the day to deal with that of what people throw your way, but by getting away you extend the hours of your life and are able to enjoy what truly warms the soul.

unsaid

some things are better left unsaid for the better of those surrounding. Unwatched statements make people wonder, and ponder the matter at hand trying to decide what is true in the distant blue. A question so bold causes matters untold to alter direction and cause more confusion of those remains unwilling to detain from the wind. To save and protect, many things are better left unsaid.

a simple phrase

A simple phrase can cause the most worry. A simple phrase can send a person into panic or worry about one they care about. Standing by and watching a friend throw themselves into danger is not something a real friend would do. A true friend voices their concern in a simple but meaningful way that one may understand without fail. A simple phrase can be an upliftment or the bad news that one you love is gone. A person can control what kind of simple phrase they want to give, they have full knowledge of their actions and if it is going to cause enlightment or wonderment.

a few days

A few days makes you wonder, wonder if a few days was goodbye. A few days can cause a rift but can be healing process. Taking a few days to mourn can be healthy and beneficial but can leave the other wondering your a few days. Waiting is the hardest part of those few days. Waiting to see if a few days turns into a few weeks, then a few months to a few years. A few days can jepordize the time I have left, for a few days is all I have left.

pain so small

A pain so small yet so extremely tall. It overrides and drives you to your knees pounding you to stay down. Any feeble attempt to get up results in that pain so small to ram you into a brick wall. The misery and agony you feel belittles you to dust. You crawl the earth seeking whatever it may be to rid yourself of this pain so small. It burrows deeper into your heart, tearing your mind apart, brutal it is, an unwanted companion that you cannot rid. How can a pain so small inflict the greatest amount of pain? Somehow you find the strength to make gain and to stop this pain. To find strength is to not give up, once you are down it is your choice to crawl or to walk. A strenuos but life changing decision.

run of faith

As you slowly watch, stand frozen, everything you know in life changes in that very moment. Going down farther, deeper, closer to six feet under and there is nothing you can do. You feel as though your heart has turned to ice and no matter of light can melt it back into the heart of a man. Turning you run, run away from the horrific scene of six feet under. What are you running from? Life cannot be out ran. No matter where you go life is the shadow that cannot escape from your presence. Taken so drastically you run. Stopping, breathing heavily you look towards the night sky, stars millions of them dot the milky way. Each one has a different story for you, eager to listen you wait. As you wait you meditate of the past events. As you open yours eyes you are startled of that man standing in front of you, his complexion is that of not normal, but yet you feel calm. He hands you a note that reads, "Trust in me." You look up to question the meaning and find that you are continuing to look up at the stars, you lower your head out of the dream and in your hand is the note, "Trust in me."

one hundred years

Regrets of the heart act as poison to tear down defenses and infitrate to torture ones very soul, one hundred years we are given, if we regret one year of that time it crashes down into no time. One cannot regret the years of their life, regrets hold one back and don't allow one to live one hundred years. time moves on whether we like it or not, whether we want it to or not. Regrets only speed up the hands of time towards chiming agaisnt our sacred one hundred years end. Time is a precious gift from that above, regret is not an enemy you want to keep close, regret is a prophet of hardship and turmoil. One hundred years we are given to make our mark on history and to regret changes it to a black mark. Eventually one hundred years must end, unfortunately all good things must end, or so those who regret say. To free oneself of regret is to spread their wings and soar higher and higher into the clouds and the rains of memory until one hundred years is transfigured into truth. It takes one hundred years to learn the art of defending oneself from regret.

one more day

Ask yourself what would you do with one more day? Would you remind those you love that you are with them always, even when you are a thousand miles apart would you tell them you are already there? Would you run and hope to find an end point? With one more day would you save the world? Live life differently? Would you put down the beer and drink more lemonade? If you could wish for one thing what would you wish for? This one wish, would you use it on money? Fame? Cars, boats and planes? Or would you wish for one more day? One more day to hold the one you love and never let go? Would you wish for one more day to be you? Would you wish for one more day?
With one more day many things could have been accomplished many hearts could be meneded, many souls put to rest with one more day. But the cruel reality is that one more day would simply leave you wishing for one more day.

one voice

One voice so small struggles to be heard amiss the hording crowd that engulfs the syllables of the words shouted towards the heavens. In desperate attempt one voice can be heard if one listens closely, and one may wish that they listened closely at times. For that small voice can change the lifes of many if only they allowed their ears to listen. One voice is all it takes to stop a consequence, one voice is all it takes to start war, one voice is all it takes to change one poor soul. A voice can be as blank as a ghost but spoken in holy matramony can be as powerful as God's wrath. If hearkened unto, one voice can make all the difference but it is up to us to answer the call of one voice.

east to west

East to West it watches, East to West it is seen. It is greeted in the East and bid adu in the West. High it stands, but low it seems. Watching the contentions of the world it wonders, it witnesses everything we don't and will always watch East to West.

seven days

Seven days it took, 365 days we live, eternity it will stand. A single brush is what created it. Seven days it shines, seven days was the work. Seven days a sunrise takes place acting as Gods eye opening from his slumber to wathc over the world one more day. Seven days the moon rises to cast its rays of hope to prevent that of the night. Seven days God plays, wondering what to paint next. Seven days we see miracles, seven days we don't believe, seven days may seem as seven days to the human eye, but seven days we are watched, seven days we are loved, but it was six days because on the seventh day we were named. Seven days we were created from within an imagination. What will we create in seven days?

in every storm

As one cannot read a book by the cover or judge it one cannot judge life itself. When a storm shrowds the world it is looked at with fear and hatred, but in every storm there is a ray of sunshine playing the role of the white knight. A storm is a work of art, it is God showing the world of his masterpiece. For to bring the elements together is a masterpiece.

rose of life

Putting one foot in front of the other allows you to walk straight and travel the path, but halting those steps for a few moments allows one to stop and see where the path is leading them. Life is not about how far one can travel but by the moments that one stops to smell the roses. Would the world be different if everyone stopped to smell the roses in their life? It is the small moments that create the greatest impressions and plant more rose buds that will blossom with time to reveal their sweet nectar that flows by the river of life. One may travel a farther distance in life than many but when they come to the end of the road they will have nothing to show, they will not hold the rose of life.

The climb

Crying, pleading, hoping that a greater force will alter reality. To look up and see is to bury ones face and think. One does not have to climb a mountain to reach a greater height, one must find who they are to reach a greater height. There is more than one mountain to climb on the earth. Souls have peaked and seen the world from a birds eye view, souls have climbed and found the answer. To reach a height is not to climb, look at the whole picture to find the path. For one reaches the greatest heights when they find themselves knocked to their knees from the pressures of life. He is listening.

past, present, future

To look ahead is to see into the past to know what is ahead. Knowledge from the past can create the wisdom for the present and lessons for the future. The time one can be afraid of will come to pass and one will know of the wisdom and be armed with the lessons to show the world that great things will come to pass. Trials are trails in disguise and with the open mind to the past one will walk the trails of knowledge to recieve wisdom of how to overcome the trial.

A Month

A month ranges from 28 days to 31 days, no matter the count of days each month rages on riding the winds of God's breathe bringing change and the passing of time. Everyday comes and goes, each day is a new discovery that is swallowed by the Jaws of time. A month is named for its proper season, a month marks the day to that of change. Many souls can be saved in a month, but how many souls does it take to save a month? A month cannot be given back or bought with that of riches, it can only be preserved in the bindings of swift movement to store the knowledge of the passing month. A month is a story book that has no beginning or end, a month is simple a story book waiting to be written by those who live the month and create the month. A month can build and fortify the heart for the coming month when the heart will wear thin, but it is this month that can search or destroy. A month is a span of many precious days that hold ambitions. A month is all it takes for a month to be a month.

Actions have Consequences

Nations crumble at the passing of a hand. Hearts torn, kin destroyed all because of one hand. Actions require the use of a hand, some are to be recorded and seen as a miracle to the world. Others are not so easily forgotten and taste bitter to the world for the torment one hand can blossom. Nations are created with that of a hand, we have responsibility of that hand, what we do is completely up to us and not that of the world.

Meaningless

Anger is a meaningless emotion that drops people into a pit of despair that only an apology can free them from. How many wars were started over a simple dispute? How many lifes taken? All I want to do is yell in a whisper of the guilt and sorrow I feel that I cannot let free as a small sparrow. Trapped beneath the pain, it feels as though there is nothing to gain. Anger only destroys, not employs. Precious time is wasted with anger, no longer, time is restored with that of healing and standing up to right the wrong.

Ain't it the truth

1 The nicest thing about the future is that it always starts tomorrow
2 Money will buy a fine dog but only kindness will make him wag his tail
3 If you dont have a sense of humor you probably dont have any sense at all
4 Seat belts are not confining as wheelchairs
5 A good time to keep your mouth shut is when you're in deep water
6 How come it takes so little time for child who is afraid of the dark to become a teenager who wants to stay out all night?
7 Business conventions are important because they demonstrate how many people a company can operate without
8 Why is it that at class reunions you feel younger than everyone else looks?
9 Scratch a dog you'll find a permanent job
10 No one has more driving ambition than the boy who wants to buy a car
11 There are no new sins; the old ones just get more publicity
12 There are worse things than getting a call for a wrong number at 4 a.m. it could be the right number
13 Think about this, no one ever says "its only a game" when his team in winning
14 I've reached the age where the happy hour is a nap
15 Be careful reading the fine print. There's no way you're going to like it
16 The trouble with bucket seats is that not everybody has the same size bucket
17 Do you realize that in about 40 years, we'll have millions of old ladies running around with tattoos? And rap music will be the Golden Oldies
18 Money can't buy happiness, but somehow it's more comfortable to cry in a corvette than a yugo.
19 After a certain age, if you don't wake up aching in every joint, you are probably dead

The Tortoise by Cid Corman

Always to want to
go back, to correct
an error, ease a
guilt, see how a friend
is doing. And yet
one doesnt, except
in memory, in
dreams. The land remains
desolate. Always
the feeling is of
terrible slowness
overtaking haste. *

Rockholt's Letter

This is the book I wrote
56,191 words!



ROCKHOLT’S LETTER
BY: TRENT N. WELDON

CHAPTER I

War is a unique situation, tearing people apart but bringing Brothers in Arms together. What makes a brother a brother? Someone who would die for you? Someone who knows your secrets? How about someone you would run into danger with to make sure that your family back home is safe?
World War III was a fairy tale; dinner conversation of “What if?”, now ‘what if’ is real. World War III exploded into reality when Japan declared war on the United States of America by emitting a nuclear strike on American soil. Washington D.C. is now rubble. A city of 500,000 people now a ghost town; gone, off the map, no more. With war declared, America answered back with its own nuclear strike which escalated the war into invasion. The U.S. made the first move invading Japan on June 7, 2035.
War tactics have changed since the last World War. Many old school tactics are now back into play. Soldiers fighting in Japan now fear of sleeping in the jungle because of enemies nearby that will slit their throats in the dead of night. Advanced weaponry makes for a different scenario. But, war is still war; casualties are high, morals are low, but the fight for freedom presses on.
Captain John Rockholt, a six foot grizzly bear of a man is in this war. He knows war. He has Brothers in Arms. Rockholt fears for his men’s lives every battle they have. That is what separates him from other captains in this war. He cares, he knows his men, he fights with is men, he is Captain John Rockholt.
Rockholt comes from South Jordan, Utah, and has lived there his entire life. Growing up in Utah most people tag him for a Mormon because he has a close crew cut, clean shaven, and he avoids alcohol and has a high standard of living and moral. But he is not; he never affiliated himself with those so called Mormons. Sure he had Mormon friends and never had a problem with them; he even went to their church a few times to see what it was like. Every time he went he felt a calming sensation in his heart but other than that he had no interest in the church so he kept living life. After graduation he like many other young boys joined the military. But he stuck with it, it became his life.
On a leave he headed back home to see his mom; his dad had passed away the previous year due to complications of diabetes. On arrival his mom told him that she had set him up on a blind date. Now, what mom sets their 23 year old son up on a blind date? Rockholt’s mamma. Grudgingly he went to Geckos Mexican Grill because he knew if he didn’t his mom would never let him live it down. He got a table for two, and impatiently waited for this ‘gorgeous girl’ to walk in. It seemed like every second turned into a minute, and every minute turned into an hour as he just waited, and then it happened; she walked in. But how did he know it was her? Just like that calming feeling he felt while he attended that Mormon Church, it hit him again. So hard in fact that he fell of his chair and caused him to go extremely red in the face as Jane Dent sat down.
Jane, five foot four inches, brown hair, pulled back in a pony tail, athletic, Rockholt’s dream girl. Now that he officially embarrassed himself and also introduced himself he proceeded to gawk at this girl and get to know her. That’s how it all started. From then on Rockholt didn’t look forward to leaving on tour as he did like he used to. He kept thinking of Jane, he wanted her; he wanted to tell her that he loved her. He almost did, three weeks after they met when they took forty-five minutes to kiss goodnight he almost told her, but he chickened out. This was extremely unusual for
Captain John Rockholt.
Rockholt was known throughout the entire military academy for being the most courageous and hardcore soldier there is. When he was younger he would take on any dare as a teenager. His friends would tell him to dive off a bridge into the Daybreak Lake, and he would dive into the lake. Nothing truly made his stomach turn to knots except for two things, fearing for his men’s lives in the dead of war, and now, Jane Dent. Jane on the other hand, she loved Rockholt was well. And she was just waiting for him to tell her! She knew he loved her, every time he kissed her she could feel the love, but she was just waiting to hear those three words come out of the man she loves mouth; I love you.
Two months, two extremely long, unbearable months is what it took Rockholt to tell Jane he loved her. But when he did, she just smiled, said “I love you to” and jumped on him and kissed him. From then on they were always together, not that they weren’t before, but now, Rockholt didn’t want to go back to war. He knew he would have to go back very shortly to the front lines. He had already gone back to training so he could train his team.
His men, Lance Kenway, James Voss, and Jason Barta; including Rockholt these four men became Delta 8, an elite strike team.
Rockholt left Jane for two months while he trained his men for the intense scenarios of battle. Each man had come from different areas of the military and each excelled in certain areas of warfare, but more importantly each had their own reason for fighting this war. Rockholt was fighting for Jane; he wants her to be safe. Lance, he just wants to kick some Japanese butt. He was a high school drop out but liked to shoot things. James was the geek of the group. No glasses or anything but he had all the book smarts of the group, and he never shut up. He always had to talk, about anything. Jason, well, he never told the men why he was fighting. Jason became the mysterious one of the group, never talked much, but always followed orders exactly. He even beat Rockholt on the shooting range, which no one had ever done before. Through training Rockholt and Barta became close friends, of course Rockholt became close with all three men, and he learned to trust them, enough that he was ready to go to war with them.
Each week while at training Jane would always write Rockholt a letter, these were not ordinary letters, these were love letters. And all the men knew it. All the men gave Rockholt a hard time because he had a women back home that he as going to marry upon his return from training. The only thing, she didn’t know. Rockholt had all the plans made. As soon as he stepped off the plane, Kenway, Voss, and Barta were going to run and pick up Jane on their shoulders, well first they were going to introduce themselves so she would not be totally freaked out by three huge military men picking her up and carrying her through the airport. They were going to carry her to the gate where they had come out from and Rockholt will be standing there with the ring in hand, on one knee.
As plans never going according to plan, as the men picked up Jane and were walking her to Rockholt they tripped, but Rockholt being the man he is, caught Jane before she could hit the floor. He actually liked the fact that he had to catch her, it made it that much more dramatic to ask her to marry him. Rockholt then proceeded to get down on one knee. “Jane Dent,” Rockholt stuttered out. “Will you marry me?” Nothing, no response from Jane; all she could do was stare at him with tears in her eyes. “Of course I will marry you Captain John Rockholt!” Rockholt had to take a double take of what the just thought his ears heard. Yes, she had said yes! He couldn’t believe it! Well, actually he could. Just like when he first met her, as he was standing up that feeling hit him again and he fell to the floor by stumbling over his own feet to sweep her up in a hug. So as they both lay laughing on the floor Rockholt slipped the ring onto her finger whispered I love you and then kissed her.
Rockholt had to leave in exactly four weeks from when he asked her to marry him for the front lines, so their wedding was nothing fancy. One week to plan the wedding, and they were off. Married and off.
Rockholt never had to deal with this kind of emotion before. He had left Jane for training sure, but now he had to leave her to face death. He didn’t know if he was going to return to look into her eyes one more time, to hold her hand as they strolled down the street hand in hand. He never knew if he was going to hear her voice, he didn’t know if he was going to hear the whispering of, I love you John ever again from her mouth. The night before he left Jane finally got the courage to ask Rockholt the question that had been plaguing her since they met; “John, where did you get your scar?” Jane slowly asked as they were sitting on the front porch of their new house. Rockholt’s scar was just not a little scar on his leg or arm. No, his scar started from the bottom of his left ear and went down the left side of his neck. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Rockholt replied. “Why?” “Jane, please let it be. A man can run from his past, but he cannot run from the mark of his past.” “Maybe one day, one day I may find the courage to tell you, but for now, I can’t bear to repeat of how I got this scar.” Jane always wondered how he got it, was it from war? An accident as a kid? But she always feared of asking him; and now that she had, she had to wait.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In the middle of the night Rockholt awoke and slowly walked to the front of the house. As he stood there, the memory of how he got his scar slowly started to seep into his mind. Slowly it over took his mind, pressuring him, causing him to fear leaving Jane even more. Just as he was about to succumb to the anguish of his memory... “John?” It was Jane; she walked over to him and slid her arms around him from behind so they rested on his bare chest. “You ok John?” “Jane, what if I don’t come back?” “John don’t even start to speak of such nonsense. You are the strongest man I know.” “Jane, I fear that I will never see you again, I fear that I won’t be here to see the birth of our little baby.” “What baby John?” “I saw the pregnancy test. I know about the baby.” “I was going to tell you but with you leaving I got scared and didn’t know what you would say or think so I...” “Jane, we are going to be parents! That’s the best news I have heard since you told me that you would marry me. I can’t wait to hold our baby in my arms and know that I am a father. But I fear that I won’t be here to meet him.” “Honey, this is true love, nothing can break true love. I love you Captain John Rockholt, I have loved you from the moment I met you. From that moment I knew that I was going to marry you that I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. Nothing can break true love, not a bullet or knife can cut through what our hearts share.”
They sat out on the porch and waited until dawn talking of names for the baby if it was a boy or a girl and just talking. They talked of their first date, of how far they had come. John told Jane his fears of war, his fear of losing his men. Jane told him her fear of losing him, but also that she loved him. And that she always would. Then the time came. The time where Jane dropped Rockholt off at the military airport. As he stepped out of the car and started to walk away Jane ran after him tears streaming from her eyes; Rockholt turned and embraced her, kissed her and told her, “I love you Jane.” And turned and started walking to the plane. Jane glanced down and back at her husband and whispered to her baby, “That’s something to be proud of.”







































CHAPTER II


Vincent,
“I know that I have been gone for quite sometime. I am starting to lose count of the days that I have been in this forsaken land. Son, take care of your mom, I will be home soon. I promise that when I get home we will go play ball. We will run through the park together, I will be your father. I have not had much time of that since this war started. I know you are too young to truly know what is going on, but son, pray for peace. Pray for your daddy to come home.”
“Who you writing there captain?” Barta asked Rockholt as he read over his shoulder. “My son, Vincent. He just turned five years old today.” “You know, I never took him to the park like I promised I would. For a week, every day he would ask me if we could go to the park to go play basketball, swing, and go down the slides. It was right across the street, but...I never took him. I was always to busy; but now I see that I was never to busy for my son, I just chose to be too busy.” Barta in a very slow steady voice responded to Rockholt, “Captain, you will see your son again. You taught him well. I know that he is taking care of Jane right now and that he is praying for his daddy to come home.”
“Captain! Orders just came through, ‘Big Bird’ wants us to move out,” Voss repeated from the radio transmission. “Ten clicks north there is a camp we have been ordered to liberate.” The thing is Rockhole did not want to liberate this camp. He has a heart, he loves his fellow Brothers in Arms, but the thoughts, the visions, and the haunting would never leave him. Masking his terror, Rockholt ordered his men to gear and prepare to move out within minutes. The only person in the group, of course, Barta was the only one to see through the mask that Rockholt put on. He knew something was wrong. But what?
Desolation surrounded Delta 8 as they religiously hiked through the jungle, always on high alert. The mountainous terrain they were in provided perfect cover for enemy snipers and just plain old enemies. But worse yet, concentration camps; these were a tactic brought back into play from World War II. Within the mountains, American soldiers who were captured and taken as prisoners of war were taken too many different camps. These camps were supposed to cleanse and purge the minds of the American soldiers and teach them the right way of life, the Japanese way. Brainwashing is what happened in these camps, along with many other cruelties of war.
Nothing could hide the shock and commotion caused in each of the men’s hearts as they rounded the ridge and looked down into the valley below. No it was not the look of relief that they had reached their destination after ten clicks of hiking through the jungle and being eaten alive by mosquitoes, but the look of the sheer desolation, destruction, a pain so deep only a facial expression can describe the hopelessness of the situation of what lay below them.
Fire, dirt stained red from the blood spilt of hundreds of innocent souls now buried deep in the ground with piles waiting to be buried. Zombies, no skeletons with flesh hanging onto the bone so thin that light could pass through and illuminate the inner depths that secured the fear so black that it stopped the light from shining through. That was the only thing that stopped the light from coming through, the fear, which is how weak and thin these poor people were. Japanese, American, didn’t matter, they were there. Prisoners of War on the American side, and traitors of the Japanese military and dictatorship; Japanese citizens who believed in freedom. And it seemed the only way they found freedom in this hell on earth was through the gates of death. The sun was drowned out by the smoke coming from this pit of despair and destruction. A prison by night, a factory by day. These military dictators had taken the ideas of Hitler and revamped them into a twisted perfection of making Prisoners of War not only work, but work to fund the Japanese military. No living thing existed within a mile radius of this place, and no living thing existed inside, as all were dead, but still roamed the earth as Cane will forever more, that is how they walked and lived their lives, as Cane. Except, the only thing they were convicted guilty of was fighting for freedom and a just cause, not striking down a brother and not being able to hide their infirmity from God.
Rockholt especially struggled to take all this in, all the images, the sounds, the screams. Slowly, ever so slowly for some reason the ground started to seem closer, and closer, his eyes he forced to stay open but some mysterious mystique force of evil caused him to fail, his mind, overtaken, split into a thousand pieces as he heard the dying scream and question come from......
“Captain! Wake up Rockholt!” Barta was sternly hissing at Rockholt. Rockholt then proceeded to awake from the sluggish nightmare, and return to reality, the horrible reality of where he was. “Let’s move, we still have a couple miles of ground to cover,” Rockholt very calmly spat out. But it was how calmly he said it that raised the interest of Barta; it was to calm. “But Captain, you just passed out, flat out,” explained Voss, which was obvious. “You should sit down; take it easy for a few minutes. You were muttering something, someone’s name....You kept asking for forgiveness or something.” “Voss, this is a time where you just keep your mouth shut and move out.” “Got it?” Questioned Rockholt. “Yes sir.” “Good, now let us go get our boys out of the devils living room.” With that statement Rockholt slung his gun back over his shoulder, looked into the eyes of Jason Barta, James Voss, and Lance Kenway, his men, his team, Delta 8, his Brothers in Arms.


“Ssshh, this is it,” Rockholt motioned to his men. “Kenway, Voss, position to where
you can take out those two guards in those towers. Barta you’re with me.” “Where are we positioning Captain?” Rockholt looked at Barta, gave him that smile of ‘is that really a question?’ and proceeded to say, “Where we can save our boys, inside.”
“On my mark, GO!” Now because of the situation Rockholt did not scream this at the top of his lungs as to awaken everyone in the camp, including the guards, but rather he instigated this command through the headset. Two silenced shots split the night air striking both the guards right between the eyes. Rockholt and Barta carefully then slipped through the hole in the fence they had separated with a very high intensity setline torch. Moving through the shadows as a bandit would so as not to get caught, they proceeded into the heart of the camp.
“Tango, bottom floor, take him out silently,” in a commanding whisper Rockholt told Barta. Slowly, with stealth never known to man until now, the poor Japanese guard that just had to be scheduled for that round, the last thing he felt was that of a bowie knife stabbing through his shoulder blades and puncturing his heart; death.
Then, something or someone ran across the road. Rockholt as the trained soldier immediately trained his sights onto this rogue object. Cautiously he started forward, step by step, the soft crunch of dirt being shifted beneath his boots; his heart beat pounding as that of a race horse. “Why? Why did you kill me?” “Barta did you hear that?” Rockholt whispered ferociously. “Did I hear what Captain?” “That voice, a kid...” Just then Barta saw it, the dot, the red dot lined up perfectly on Rockholt’s chest. Barta had less than a second to react to this dire situation, luckily for Rockholt he did react. Springing forward and tackling Rockholt to the ground as a linebacker would a quarterback, Barta pinned Rockholt to the ground just as a single shot; one single shot meant to kill rang through the air. “Sniper! Voss, Kenway, move around to take him out!” “Captain we have to move!”
Weaving, serpentine movement, Barta and Rockholt ran through the streets diving behind any such cover they could find as they held their position in the heart of this camp. Carefully taking out their enemy, as they advanced they would shoot the locks barricading the slave houses. Hundreds of men, women, and children flooded from these houses as a river would through a broken dam. The thought of freedom drove these civilians to rise up and take shovels from the ground and pound guards down into the dirt.
A child, a small boy stopped in front of Rockholt and thanked him; he thanked him for saving him. All in a flash this boy no more of ten years of age was thanking Rockholt for being his savior and the next he was on the ground, dead. A bullet through his small back; witnessing this caused Rockholt to snap.
“Please forgive me! I am sorry! I didn’t mean it! Oh god, please forgive me!” “Kenway, Voss get Rockholt! We have got to get out of this bloody place before the charges we set detonate and we become roasted turkeys,” Barta shouted above the commotion of gunfire and families running out the gates back into the world of salvation away from the camp.
With Rockholt slung over the shoulder of Kenway, Delta 8 sprinted out the door of the Devil’s living room. “Please forgive me, please forgive me,” those were the words Rockholt kept repeating over and over, even as he was being jostled about on the shoulder of Kenway. With only moments to spare the fireworks started, everything in that camp was incinerated in a fireball. A fireball as of war tore people apart but reunited many.
Once safely back in the hills the men set up camp and got Rockholt into a tent. “Please, please, I am sorry, please forgive me.” Who, who was Rockholt asking to forgive him? And for what? Something from this war was haunting Rockholt; Voss, Kenway and Barta all knew it, but Barta was the only one who had the balls enough to stand up to Rockholt and to investigate into this problem.
Rockholt continued to mumble for a few more hours, not sleeping, but not awake. When he finally reached a state of sensuality, Barta began his brotherly interrogation.
“John what is going on?” First name basis always meant Barta was serious beyond serious. “You have to be straight with me, if not Voss and Kenway, me. We are all depending on you to lead us through this war, without you Delta 8 becomes unrealistic.”
Slowly Rockholt gained his senses and proceeded to give into Barta’s therapeutic questions. “This is not the first concentration camp that I have liberated. When I first got here, to this war I was under the command of Captain Walther ‘Soap’ Mctravis. With him and our squadron, the 82nd Assault Division, we were ordered to liberate a camp. We knew it was a hot spot and that civilian casualties were likely, but...I caused a civilian casualty. In this camp, it was horrible, ditches were dug for the dead, and everyone looked like they had just walked out of the graves they had dug. As we were fighting our way through the camp I was hit in the shoulder by a sniper. I managed to crawl into cover as the rest of my team advanced and took out the sniper. But...as I was in cover a Japanese soldier ran at me with a knife in hand. I had very little time to react, but as any other soldier, I shot him. Immediately as I pulled the trigger back I realized what I was shooting at. Not a soldier, not a threat in the least bit, but a young boy. I shot and killed a young boy Barta.” With tears forming in his eyes and slowly leaking down his face he discussed with Barta of what happened to him as they liberated the camp. “I saw that boy Barta. I saw him. I saw where I shot him, I saw the wound. That is who I was asking to forgive me. I took his life away, after I gave it to him.”


































CHAPTER III

War is one thing in history that has repeated itself. Man is to greedy not to start a war, they are a natural enemy not only to God but themselves. Mankind will put an end to mankind, not disease, but themselves.
Rockholt and the rest of his men, Delta 8, now only had one thing on their minds, home. Delta 8 had served their time, they had seen it all, and the desolation that one man can leave behind him as he searches for world domination. The smell and taste of fear in the air as they huddled together at nights in the jungle; as the elite team they were sent on missions that would take would keep them in the jungle for days. They had coordinates of stashes that they could re-supply at. Every night they took turns on watch, if not they ran the risk of never waking from their sleep. Not that they slept much anyway. War has a unique devilish way of tormenting people in their sleep; but this particular night was different for Rockholt.
What made tonight any different from all the other nights Rockholt had spent dreading sleep in this god forsaken jungle? It was the fact that he was going to get to hold Jane in his arms one more time, he was going to be able to tell her he loves her one more time, he was going to be able to take his son, Vincent, to the park just like he promised, he was going to be able to mow his front lawn, he was going to be able to walk down the street, a street with no gunfire or war torn houses, he was going home. He was going home, home to the life he left, home to his wife; he was going to be able to bellow out the words of “I am home!” Delta 8 had received the news that they were going home for good, another strike team was going to replace them and they were going to be put on the reserve list; music to their ears. All four men cried that night; it was a sight to see four grown, rough military men weep with joy because they were going home.
Of course like anything in life that was easier said than done. They had one final mission to complete before they were picked up via helicopter out of a safe zone and taken back to base. The saying of ‘I would kill for that’ was coming true for these men. Captain John Rockholt, James Voss, Jason Barta, and Lance Kenway all had to literally kill to go home. Was it worth it? Of course it was worth it. They were fighting for what they believed in, they were fighting for home, to keep home safe; now they were going back to what they kept safe.
This mission was to blaze the trail for the replacement strike team. Delta 8 was ordered to knock out one of the primary communication stations of the Japanese. Without this means of communication, the Commanders of the U.S. Army were sure that they could advance and take control of the war and within three months time end the war. The station was huge, and with its perimeter completely armed and dangerous with Sam Site missiles, AC-130 anit-air guns an airstrike was out of the question until those could be powered down and the Iron Curtain, a powerful radar jammer, brought down so the bombers could lock onto the radar signal and get the accuracy of their missiles right. Again, easier said than done; the station was built to withstand bombardment, it is a fortress. Mine fields had been set up around the station to thwart off any ground attacks, rotating guards surveyed the premises around the mine field to ensure that no one could even get close to the mine fields. Then if anyone with the skill or just dumb luck got past the guards, made it through the mine fields in one piece and not in a body bag, then they had to deal with what was inside. One entrance this building, two guard dogs sat outside the ten foot thick steel doors and two dogs sat inside. Cameras lined every inch of the hall and were positioned so that no inch of the hall had a blind spot, and the building had a vent system that could be sealed off so the room became air tight and all the air pumped out of it, or the room would be sealed off air tight and gas would be pumped into the building to kill any intruders. Then there was the obstacle of getting into the anti-aircraft control room and shutting those down, and then after somehow all that was accomplished they had to plant a nuclear charge in the control room that would detonate with the impact of the air strike missiles so that the building would be incinerated from the inside out.
Even with all that on his mind Rockholt and his men were still getting the best nights rest they had gotten since the war started. Rockholt could feel Jane’s breath upon his skin, he could feel her touch, he was dreaming of everything that he had missed, and now he didn’t have to miss it, he was going home.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“You boys ready to go home?” Rockholt asked his men as they awoke.
For the next few hours they hiked through the jungle. No one spoke much partly due to the fact they were hiking but also because they all had their minds on the mission ahead but going home more importantly.
“Lets rest here, we have made good time,” Rockholt announced. “So, Captain, what’s your secret?” “What you talking about Kenway?” “You know the secret you don’t share around the campfire.” “When I was fourteen I showed up to school with a shiner. I told all the guys that I got it playing football when in reality Sarah Conner beat me up for my lunch money,” admitted Rockholt. “Dang Captain, we have got to get you some fighting skills to keep those women off of you,” Barta joked with Rockholt. “Alright Barta, spill,” Rokcholt jabbed. “Well, when I was sixteen I loved working on my truck and I found that if I positioned the vacuum hose just right I could give myself hickys. I told all my buddies that I had a girl who lived out of town and that she gave me a little sugar over the weekend.” “And you say I need to keep girls off of me Barta?” “Ha ha very funny captain.”
“Alright alright I got one. I kissed my fifth grade teacher. I thought she was really cute so I ran up to her the last day of school and kissed her and ran away,” Voss sheepishly squelched out. “Looks like you’re the last one Kenway,” Rockholt said as they all sat eyeing him down. “I used to steal my sister’s underwear and wear it. I liked the feel of it.” Nothing, no one said a word to that, they just all started laughing at Kenway. They all thought their secrets were scary and dark but this one blew them all out of the water. This was the first true time that all of them had laughed a whole deep hearted laugh since they had been sent to the war. It was good to let it ring and have no worries.
From that one laughing moment they all started to talk about the home life. It eased their burdened minds as they hiked through the jungle. For once they didn’t fear the enemy, they didn’t fear of being to loud, they just talked and talked and reminisced. Each man took their turn of telling about their home life. Rockholt of course, talked about Jane. He talked of her fair skin, that every morning when the sun shone through the windows and passed through the sheets so soft her skin seemed to glisten in the morning light as if ever so slightly shaded with dew. How he wanted to hold her, and he actually opened up to them about the night they met. Of how he fell out of his chair and embarrassed himself to the hilt in front of her. He talked of how much he loved her. Rockholt spoke of his son. His only son, his only child; he spoke of how proud of his son he was, how his son always stood up for what he believed in. What he didn’t know was how proud his son was of his daddy. For at that exact moment, Rockholt speaking of his son, his son was speaking of him. Because of the time differences, Vincent, Rockholt’s son was giving a presentation at his school; and he continuously spoke of how proud of his daddy he was.
Barta, for once Barta talked. He actually said more than ten words. He told of a little bar he used to own. This bar was designed so that teenagers could come enjoy themselves and so he could help keep them off the streets. He did not serve any alcohol and he did not allow any alcohol. Rather he had sodas and different drinks. The place was a wholesome club for teens to keep them off the streets; it was the best hang out place in town. But when he got called to war he had to sell the place in order to support his wife while he was gone. He talked of the laughter and joy that these kids brought into his business. How every Friday night he had an old school karaoke night, and that he himself would sing with many of the kids. He talked in fervent detail of how he was friends with many of them, how they spoke of their problems and how he helped them mend many rifts in their young lives. He told of that they day he put up the for sale sign, the kids started a fundraiser in order to buy the place so that upon his return he could take ownership once again. It was a noble effort, but they were not able to raise enough.
Voss, he just spoke of fast cars and freedom, which surprised everyone a little bit. They all expected him to talk of sci-fi and the latest model rocket he built; but instead it was of how he rebuilt cars and sold them. Voss was a car fanatic! He loved finding the old antique models of the Ford Mustang and the Chevrolet Corvette. He had a garage back home full of cars. Most of them he found junked in someone’s yard and towed it off and fixed it himself. The saying of ones man junk is another mans treasure’ was literally true for Voss.
Kenway, now that was a story to hear. He raved on and on of his hunting skills of how he chased girl after girl before the war. He was a daredevil. Anything that involved a high risk of self injury he was all for. He was into all the extreme sports. He loved the feeling of adrenaline back home and figured that war would be the biggest adrenaline rush out there, so he joined and was good at it.
As Delta 8 shared these experiences of the home life and shared precious memories and rang out with joyous laughter, they didn’t realize that they were being followed. No one bothered to turn around and check, no one bothered to pay to much attention to their surroundings; why would they? They were in the middle of some Japanese jungle with no town or village within miles and miles. They were alone, or they were supposed to be. Rockholt, Barta, Voss, Kenway, and their presiding Commander were the only ones who knew of their exact coordinates; so there was no way in heaven or earth that they were being followed.
Delta 8 continued hiking, slowly falling silent as they became more and more fatigued as the day lagged on. They knew they had to stop for rest, but again the thought of dying in their sleep kept them trudging on and on; until they fell to the ground with exhaustion. No one bothered to pull out tents, no one bothered to try and set up a tent. They found a small cove of trees and all struggled to keep their eyes awake so they could decide who was going to stand first watch. When they were moving and talking everything seemed to be ok for that brief period of time, but now as the sun set the men watched their hopes of survival sink with it; for the night held terrors of war no man could speak of. Terrors that only men could dream of, indescribable, terrors which caused men to clutch at their own chest because they felt their heart being wrenched out and squeezed with the hand of death. A terror that brings about feelings so dark men go crazy; terrors that were creeping up on Delta 8. Then they arrived.
“Do not move if you don’t want a bullet through your brain.” That is when Rockholt felt the cold, hard, fingers of death clench at his chest in the form of a gun barrel pressed against the back of his head.





































CHAPTER IV

One word described Rockholts thoughts; suspense. Just like the action movies he watched back home that built up the suspense fullness of the story, feeling a gun barrel pressed to his head built the suspense of the situation a little bit. Thoughts, memories, everything ran through his head. Slowly, disobeying the orders of the mysterious culprit he turned to stare down the barrel of the menacing gun that was now pointed between his eyes which caused him to go cross-eyed looking at the darn thing. The monstrosity of the situation started to unfold itself more and more as things started to become more perceptible.
“Daddy can we go to the park today like you promised?” “Not today Vincent, daddy has to work.” That memory was the single most memory that kept running through his head. The hurt, the desolation, and the pain he caused his son as he shattered his hopes of spending an hour or two with his dad at the park. Rockholt was determined to make that right if he made it out of this alive. Then, a sharp whack to his head caused him to return to reality and the morbid situation at hand.
Why, why was Voss standing up? He could not think he was going to apprehend these men single handedly, then Rockholt saw who Voss really was; a traitor. “Come on Rockholt did you really think I kept the conversation of home going because I have a home to go to?” “I don’t have a home to go to; I sold my soul to the devil in order to survive this blasted war. I kept you and these other two buffoons talking so that the real strike team could apprehend you with no struggle what so ever,” Voss spat out with venomous words. “Why?” Why, that was the only word Rockholt was able to muster out of his grid iron lock on his jaw from his anger. “Because I was never good enough to be in your squad, I am the geek of the group. But that is beside the point. I want to live; I want to survive this war so that I may return home a hero; to have everyone worship the ground I walk on because I returned home from World War III, alive; unlike you three.” Voss just continued his rant, a rant that bored the heck out of Rockholt, Barta and Kenway. It was like listening to their high school math teachers all over again, and just like their teachers, Voss just wouldn’t shut up.
“It was a simple factor really to get into contact with the enemy. They were becoming quite desperate to stop ‘Delta 8’ and now I gave you to them on a silver platter, in return, I live. You see I started to notice that our coordinates were not that encrypted; it was a very simple code. And me being the elite genius I am deciphered it and found a way to transmit a message to the enemy through our radio frequency which as in any war they were monitoring; all I did was change the code into something they could easily translate. It was a very mathematical complex sequence, well for me it was simple, and for you it would have been complex. So to make a long story short I provided the enemy with our exact coordinates.”
“That was a really nice story traitor,” Rockholt mockingly stated with a wink to Voss. Now naturally that just plain pissed of Voss, who in turn struck Rockholt across the face with the butt of his gun. Rockholt just laughed and with a malicious grin whispered, “The devil has a part of Hell that is reserved for traitors, I will gladly ferry your soul there, Voss.” Rockholt accomplished his goal with that statement, to freak Voss out and completely rack his brain with worry; best part was his statement was true. “We shall see about that Captain John Rockholt,” Voss shouted and then knocked out Rockholt with a single blow to the head. Kenway and Barta were knocked out in the same manner and bound with cords so tight their wrists started to bleed immediately.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Music, but what music? Something about an angel?” Rockholt was in a state of consciousness that was not awake but not asleep, he was in an alternate reality and hearing music. “What music?” Slowly, every so slowly words started forming..........

When I see your smile
Tears run down my face I can't replace
And now that I'm strong I have figured out
How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul
And I know I'll find deep inside me I can be the one.......

Rockholt was having a hard time understanding what was being said, but as he was no where near waking up he continued to listen intently.....

I will never let you fall
I'll stand up with you forever
I'll be there for you through it all
Even if saving you sends me to heaven...........

“Wait a second, Jane?!”........


It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.
Seasons are changing
And waves are crashing
And stars are falling all for us
Days grow longer and nights grow shorter
I can show you I'll be the one.............

“Jane, I can hear you!”

I will never let you fall (let you fall)
I'll stand up with you forever
I'll be there for you through it all (through it all)
Even if saving you sends me to heaven

Cause you're my, you're my, my, my true love, my whole heart
Please don't throw that away
Cause I'm here for you
Please don't walk away and
Please tell me you'll stay, stay

Use me as you will
Pull my strings just for a thrill
And I know I'll be okay
Though my skies are turning gray

I will never let you fall
I'll stand up with you forever
I'll be there for you through it all
Even if saving you sends me to heaven
(Guardian Angel, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus)

“Jane, no don’t leave! Please don’t leave me! JANE!” No answer. She was gone. “Did I really hear her singing ‘Guardian Angel’ to me?” That question continued to bestow itself in his mind. He came to the conclusion of yes, he did hear her, but what was she trying to tell him? “Jane, I need your help.” “Jane, please don’t leave me, I need you more than ever right now.” “Please guide me, tell me what I need to do.”
Two words, Rockholt only then heard to words, “Come home.” He heard Jane tell him to come home. She loved him, and she was right about that nothing could break true love, no bullet, no knife. Rockholt was going to go home, he was going to survive to hold her in his arms and tell her that he loved her. He was going to run home, and never look back.
Jane told him when he left that she was with him always. Whenever he felt alone, or lost all he had to do was look around and he would find her everywhere. She was the wind in the trees, whispering her love to him, she was the sunshine that lit up the sky, and she was the stars and the moon which no matter where they stood they would always look up at the same night sky. She was always there.
Even now as Rockholt was being bound by his captors and roughly loaded into the back of a truck well hidden in the over growth of the trees she was with him, carefully watching over him. Something caused Rockholt to stir, a feeling, an emotion, a kiss.
“The past is gone and dark but the future holds what I make of this one spark that keeps my present so dim,” Rockholt slowly whispered to himself, whether awake, or in a distant reality he did not know.
That spark, the spark of love that Jane gave to him with that last kiss at the airport the day he departed right after their marriage hung on his lips. It was his nectar of life, his fountain of youth, the soul thing that kept him alive; a true loves kiss. No one could ever take that away from him, no matter how they tortured him or degraded him, he would always love Jane, and he knew without a doubt that she would always love him. No matter the distance they were always united, but he could only wait to be reunited once more with her.
That was the true suspense; not knowing when or if he was ever going to see Jane again or his son. The suspense of not knowing if he was going to be able to take his son to the park, the suspense of not knowing if he was ever going to feel his son’s little arms wrap around his neck in a hug, the suspense of not knowing if he was ever going to be able to take Jane’s face in his hands and kiss her sweet lips so soft and whisper, “I love you.” The suspense of not knowing if he was ever going to be able to take her hand in his and stroll the town streets again, the suspense of not knowing if he was going to ever see his mom again, the suspense of not knowing if he was ever going to get to thank his mom for setting him up with Jane, the suspense of not knowing if he was ever going to return home, not in a casket, but on his own two feet. The suspense of not knowing if Kenway or Barta were alive, and if they were the suspense of not knowing if they were going to live to return home to their families, the suspense of just not knowing.
With one final breath Rockholt muttered to his captors, “Time is a fickle thing, three places at once; past, present, future. Each holds the key to immortality, each holds the lock of mortality; and keeps the one I love away from me.”








































CHAPTER V

Nothing can be everything if spoken in the right context with the right voice that can actually make noise. Rockholt truly regretted not taking his son to the park. There were a lot of things he regretted in life, but there were also many things that he cherished.
In a swift movement of mind over body he was taken back to when he found the pregnancy test that Jane had taken; positive. He was shocked and almost horrified that they were going to have a child so soon in their marriage. How would Jane be with him gone? Would he be here to see the birth of their baby? If he wasn’t could Jane do it alone? All of that and many other worries and doubts crossed the trembling mind of Rockholt when he found that test. As when he went to that Mormon Church and met Jane, that feeling came over him again as he sat on the edge of the tub and stared back at his reflection in the mirror. He studied himself for a few moments, soul searching. He entered rooms and doors in his heart and mind that he never dared open them in the past, weary of what he might find; what he did find aroused his curiosity. He found peace with himself. A peace that was full of Jane’s love for him, and interestingly enough the love and peace of his unborn son. “Wait just one minute,” Rockholt thought to himself. “How do I know I have a son and not a little girl?” “Because I am your son.” Rockholt feel backwards in the tub bringing the shower curtain down with him and cascading his head into the faucet. “Who is there?” Rockholt for once was actually startled. “It is I, your son. I have entered your thoughts because I can feel the love you have for me even though my life has not yet begun in the world.” “Well of course I love you,” Rockholt replied out loud scanning the bathroom with his eyes to stunned to move, listening to his voice echo off the walls of the empty room. “The women I love carries you.” “Daddy please give me a name that will be remembered as your name will be remembered for the unselfish sacrifices you will one day make.” “What are you talking about? What sacrifice will I make?” A weary silence fell throughout the room, his son was gone. Wide eyed, heart racing, and mind whirling Rockholt proceeded out of the house and down the street into the park where he let his feet guide him to the swing set. He and Jane used to play on these swings when they were dating. They would talk of the future and how one day they would bring their own children to this park. “A name that will be remembered; sacrifice I will make. What does all that mean?” Rockholt steadily glided back and forth talking and debating with himself until the sun set and the stars lit the night sky like fireflies dancing.
Once again he let his feet guide him, and they led him home. As he walked up the front drive and onto the porch Jane came bursting out of the house in a tizzy. She ran into Rockholt embracing him, sobbing into his shoulder that he had been gone all day and she had been worried sick. Then did Rockholt look at his watch and realize he had been on the swing for nearly eleven hours. Wide eyed he hugged Jane tighter and soothingly said, “Vincent. Vincent will be the name of our first born son.” “John, have you been reading my diary?” Jane asked him through her tears, a faint smile on her face. “No, you know I won’t unless you ask me to.” Now grinning Jane replied that Vincent was the name she had put into her diary for their first born son.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Pain. Everywhere. Movement. Movement that jostled his very insides. Voices. Opening his mouth to speak but instead a low groan of agony escaped. Nothing was familiar to Rockholt as he opened his eyes to faint slits. He noticed that nothing would hold still long enough for his eyes to focus. It was then he heard the drumming of the engine and saw Kenway lying on his left and Barta on his right.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Nothing could stop Barta now and no one could interrupt his place of peace and Zen. He never ran into many people up here in the Uintah Mountains. With all of the technological advancements the last decade brought, more people became glued to their couches. Not him, he loved the outdoors. It was the last sanctuary on earth; it was the last place a man could find himself alone and escape the imprisoning boundaries of the city life. Annually Barta ventured to the mountains for a week long back packing trip, lake hopping, fishing, and enjoying being a free man. This was his last trip before he was shipped off to train under the command of Captain John Rockholt. How was he going to be able to trust this man with his life? Sure he had come to know and trust other men in the military academy that he would have gladly served with but this was different. In a squadron of only four men unison was mandatory in order to ensure survival of every member of the team. Without it every mission would be a disaster and they would watch each other die.
Alone in the mountains he only had to trust himself, no one else. No one depended on him and he did not depend on anyone to make it out of the mountains alive. But in war, everyone depended on everyone to make it out alive.
As he sat by the lake casting his line into the mountain blue water that seemed as diamonds when the sun cast its rays at the right angle he wondered would if this Rockholt character act as though he wore a crown? Because the strongest walk among the people but are not always seen because they do not wear a crown; would he be strong and believe? Would he believe in what he was fighting for? For in Barta’s eyes a soldier fighting to fight has nothing to fight for. But a soldier fighting with a purpose, a just cause, is more than a soldier, they are human.
A strong but ever so gentle tug snapped Barta out of his wishful day dreaming. As he started to rankle in the fish that had taken his bait he once again returned to his place of inner peace and Zen, but also was doing what he loved to do. As Barta pulled his lake trout up on shore he heard an ever so faint humming. Not that of singing or even a turn, but a jet engine. Seconds later a gray streak shot over the mountain range, engines screaming, disturbing the stillness of the winter green pine trees that surrounded the lake and topped the mountain ridges. Barta immedialty recognized the jet to be an F-8 Peacekeeper. The Peacekeeper was one of the technological advancements that came in the last decade. This Jet was the new death machine of war, hence the name of Peacekeeper. Barta saw that peace could be resembled as having a bigger stick than the other guy, but the Peacekeeper was something else. Capable of reaching speeds up to mach eight, stealth mode, night fire intelligence missiles, twin .50 caliber heat seeking machine guns, the Peacekeeper was a beast. The new terror and predator of the skies. Pilots for the Peacekeeper were put through astronaut training; they were even taken up into space to train their bodies for the intense speed and power of the Peacekeeper.
Next to the mountains in Barta’s mind the air was sanctuary. He wanted to get up there, he wanted to fly. He didn’t just hike and climb mountains to get away or not just because he loves it, he also climbed mountains because it brought him closer to his dream of flying. He almost had the chance to test fly a Peacekeeper but was denied.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“What is that smell,” Barta choked out. Mountains don’t smell like death, but the back of the truck he was riding in did. He tried to sit up but couldn’t, trapped. In a panic he frantically searched for an escape but instead he found the intense stare of his captain. Staring back at him all the doubts he had on the mountain that day had long since vanished. He now trusted Rockholt more than anyone else he knew. The look in Rockholt’s eyes, those piercing eyes of his seemed to look right into his soul, gave him the knowledge that he would live to get back on that mountain. That he would fly. “That’s a promise Barta,” Rockholt thought.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Slowly, quietly, cautiously Kenway snuck up on his prey. Hunting was one thing in life that he was good at. He hated that he had to be stuck in school during the hunting season so he dropped out. Deer, moose, elk, birds, basically anything that moved and was not human he liked to hunt. He was even known to hunt down and old car or two.
Steadily he raised his rifle and fit it into his shoulder, aimed...
Kenway had lost his little brother the year before due to a hunting accident. They were out hunting deer with his dad and their uncle. It was a week long trip that they all saved up for to pitch and make the preparation necessary. For weeks Kenway worked double shifts so he could purchase a new rifle for the hunt. When he bought that rifle he spent hours a day for a week at the shooting range so his marksmanship would be perfect for the hunt. He wanted to kill a deer in one shot, and one shot only. The only thing he killed with one shot was his brother. His brother was walking in front of him and Kenway tripped and his finger caught the trigger. Unfortunately he had forgotten to unload and put his gun on safety so when the trigger was pulled he shot his brother in the back of the head.
The forests stayed silent that day. Kenway’s father would not speak to him for days and when he did he told him to leave, that he had no home anymore. Kenway packed his things and left home. He stopped at the cemetery on his way out of town where he laid his rifle across the grave of his brother. “Happy hunting Dace.”
With what money he had he bought a bus ticket, one way, to Salt Lake City, Utah. When he arrived he was very lost, he had no money and he knew no one. As he was walking through the bus station he met a Senior Officer from the military who was recruiting at the station and that is where military career is started. They gave him a home, the barracks, but he loved the military it turned his life around for him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Whatever was hitting him in the leg Kenway was going to make sure it got a bullet through its head when he found his gun. He sat up so fast and strong that the actually broke the cords that bound him to the bed of the truck. With shortness of breath he was gasping to get more into his lungs. “Where am I?” “Kenway, don’t worry we got your back.” Kenway knew that voice, he had taken commands from that voice and he had heard those same words spoken by that voice before. He turned his head and met the faces of Rockholt and Barta. “Now quickly lay back down so our captors cannot see your broken bands,” Rockholt ordered. You just gave us our ticket out of this dump truck. We will have to plan it correctly, but I think we can escape. “Where are we captain?” “I have no idea Kenway, but I do know we are not sticking around to find out where were going.” “Why, why did Voss betray us? Why give our position away? What is in it for him?” “Those are the questions we are all asking ourselves right now Barta,” Rockholt answered. “Voss if you can hear me, it is not over. I am coming after you.”
Sitting in a comfortable Japanese Military base Voss nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard Rockholt whisper behind him, “I am coming after you.”









































CHAPTER VI

When Kenway awoke from his flash back he jerked so hard that miraculously he broke his bands. Now as he along with his comrades lay in the back of a pickup truck slowly cruising along the jungle road escape now seemed somewhat possible. The three men had been carefully taking note of the layout of the land, as much as their rattled heads would let them. Of course all they were seeing were trees and nothing else but they knew if they did not get out of the truck they were riding to their certain death. With Kenway being the only one who had some motion this was going to be tricky, and that didn’t include the problem of the two men in the cab of the truck, with guns, machine guns.
Whispering conversation flowed between Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway to decide how they were going to get out of the dire situation they were in. They talked of killing the guards, that if they could get them to come around back after they got them to stop the truck they could strangle them with their ropes. But that was unlikely; they could hardly hear anything over the roar of the diesel engine.
As the hours drug on, minute by minute, second by second escape started to seem more hopeless, a distant dream, as they traveled deeper into the jungle. They all knew that they were being taken to a camp; there was no other explanation for how long they had been in the truck.
As the day turned slowly into night the sunset vanished and was consumed by the black clouds that rolled in over the mountains. Rain started to pelt down and with nothing to cover them Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway felt no mercy from the storm. The roads turned into mud and even the lifted 4x4 truck could not pass through parts of the washed out road. The guards repeatedly had to exit the truck and hook up the winch to pull the truck out of the mud. During that time was when Kenway worked to get Rockholt free from his binding cords. Like anyone else would the guards eventually became so frustrated after they had pulled the truck out multiple times they pulled off into a cove of trees that ran along the side of the road.
This was their chance, the opportunity they had been enduring patiently for. They had a chance to escape, and the storm would provide cover for them. During the last few hours Kenway slowly untied the ropes that bound Rockholt to the truck and now that Rockholt was free he was frantically trying to get Barta’s ropes untied. The guards were now out of the truck walking back to them.
Kenway cocked his legs back underneath him ready for action. As soon as the tail gate was down he jumped up and performed a round house kick on the first guard that connected and crushed his wind pipe. “I just went ninja on you fool!” Now that the first guard was on the ground belatedly suffocating to death the other guard stepped in and opened fire on Kenway. Kenway dove out of the side of the truck and rolled under it to avoid the bullets and shattering glass. As far as the guard could tell Rockholt and Barta were still tied to the truck so he focused his attention back to the loose one. Bad idea. When the guard turned his back, Rockholt jumped onto him and locked his arms around his neck squeezing, steadily squeezing the life out of him. When Rockholt had finished off the guard they searched for the keys to the truck. They piled into the truck and took off through the rain. The radio kept breaking the silence with someone asking something in Japanese, they all wondered what was being said naturally but knew they had limited time before they ran into another Japanese patrol or the bodies were found. The Japanese base was asking them to code in. Since they were not receiving any response they sent two other patrols out after the truck which easily followed the gps tracker planted in the truck.
Rockholt held the pedal of the truck to the floor to put as much distance between them and the scene they had created. With the rain and the mud he was having a rigorous battle to keep the truck on all four wheels. None of them had any idea where they were for they didn’t have any of their gear, which included a gps, and the only weapon they had was a 9 millimeter pistol that was stashed in the glove box with seven shots in the clip. Rain, seven pistol shots, mud, on the run, they were in trouble.
As they came to a bend in the road Rockholt slowed so he could take the turn but immediately sped up when he saw the headlights of the on coming Japanese convoy. “Hold on to something, we are going to ram them!” Gaining as much speed as possible he gunned the truck into the side of one of the other trucks propelling that truck onto its side and shattering out the windshield. Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway must have had some angels with them for all the suffered was a massive headache from the impact but no other significant injuries. Kicking open his door Rockholt jumped out of the truck and took off into the thick cover of the jungle with Barta and Kenway right behind him. Also behind them was the rest of the Japanese convoy who they had indubitably pissed off.
Running in the dark, weaving through the trees flashes of gunfire started behind them. Bullets missed them with less than an inch to spare, trees exploded around them as mortar shells hit, flares lit the skies as the enemy continued their pursuit and Rockholt, Barta and Kenway continued their evasive maneuvers.
Lungs ready to burst, legs screaming for rest the pushed on until they heard a scream of pain. Barta had been shot in the leg and was unable to put any weight on it. Rockholt and Kenway looped his arms over their shoulders and continued but soon the enemy caught up and put tasers into their backs because their orders had been to take them alive. With thousands of volts running through their battered and bruised bodies they crashed into the underbrush and lay writhing in pain, willing unconsciousness to overtake them; they received their wish.
With cobwebs clouding their minds Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway gradually came to their senses only to realize they had been captured again. “Look, the pig Americans are awake,” one of the Japanese soldiers spoke in very broken English, a tight smug on his face. The supposed leader of the group came forward bent down so he could look Rockholt in the eyes. “Captain John Rockholt.” “How do you know my name Japanese Nazi?” “I know all about you captain. You have destroyed many of our bases, you and your loyal comrades; well almost all loyal.” Rockholt stared at this man with such anger and fire in his eyes that if it was not raining the Japanese leader may have combusted into flames. “You do not see what we are trying to do here captain.” “I see exactly what you are doing. You are attempting to destroy freedom. You are taking your revenge after we kicked your sorry butts during World War II. Pearl Harbor is still standing you Japanese Nazi.” “You ignorant Americans and your pride. We did not yet attack you again because of Pearl Harbor; we attacked so we could cleanse our world of your filth. Look at your population, almost half of them are overweight and are useless. The other half, they may come in handy when we build up our empire upon American soil. Hitler paved the way for the true power to rise up and take its rightful place in the world. But you stupid Americans think you are so smart and somehow beat us in the arms race to develop a weapon that could destroy and take a country off the of the map.” “Load them back into the truck.” Rockholt began to struggle against his captures and broke free and was heading towards this filth of a man when he turned around and struck him to the ground. Dazed Rockholt just laid there panting. “Better luck next time Rockholt. To bad there won’t be a next time for you though, not where you are going. See we like to think that there is a special place in hell for you, which is why we have chosen the camp we have.”
He was right. They were being taken to a camp. And if this filth himself was referencing the camp as hell, then truly, these Japanese Nazis had created hell on earth.
No mortal thing could protect Rockholt from the war, nothing could prepare him for the torment he was going to endure, nothing. Once again Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway were loaded into the truck and were tied down with chains this time so there was no risk of them breaking the ropes again.

No Prayer Goes Unheard

Often we pause and wonder
When we kneel down to pray
Can God really hear
The prayers we have to say...
But if we keep praying
And Talking to HIM,
He'll brighten the soul
that was clouded and dim,
And as we continue
Our burden seems lighter,
Our sorrow is softened
And our outlook is brighter
For though we feel helpless
And alone when we start,
Our prayer is is so easy to say
For the Lord understands
And gives us new strength
By the touch of his hands.
the key
That opens the heart.
And as our heart opens
The dear Lord comes in
And the prayer that we felt
We could never begin

-Helen Steiner Rice

And that is all Rockholt could do, was pray. But who was he praying to?




































CHAPTER VII

With an electric current still running through their bodies it was mighty uncomfortable for Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway when they were thrown once again into the back of a truck which was soaked from the rain. Every so often they received shocks of electricity that generated from their bodies and the wet truck, some tickled but some stung them like an angry of swarm of wasps.
Tied down with heavy chains there was no means of escaping unless they had the keys to the padlocks that locked them into place. Seeing as they didn’t all they could do was wait; wait and try to stay alive. The storm was still bringing in rain, but not as heavy. It was now a soft mist that fell from the war streaked sky. The rain seemed as though the heavens were crying, that they were weeping over the destruction of the once beautiful land they had watched for over for so long. Men have existed on the earth for only so long, the sky has witnessed every major factor of mans development. The sky witnessed the beginning and now was weeping as though it was witnessing the end. World War III could be the end, but Rockholt was determined that if it was the end, he was going to be alive to witness it. Wherever these blasted, dirty, despicable fiends were taking him and his trusted Brothers in Arms, that place was not going to be the last of them. He was ready to fight with all his might and will, which was going to be difficult seeing as he was getting weak, but his heart was strong. Once before his heart had been beaten upon to open and break, once before he was able to withstand the attack. He was tenacious that his heart was going to be able to withstand any attack.
Bouncing up and down in the back of the truck, since the roads were all washed out from the storm the three men who were captives again were struggling to keep their heads held high. They wanted to keep their heads held high so their adversaries would not see the fear that engulfed them but also so they would not bang their heads against the bed of the truck. Once again they were stuck in a truck for who knew how many hours, possibly even days. Now and then they would lift their heads and crane their necks to see over the side to envelope the scenery, what was left of it that is. They were moving into an area that the U.S. had hit hard with multiple bombings. Ruins littered the valley that was beneath them. From their partial birds eye view, the lack of movement was keeping them from seeing the other part, they could make out the ruins of skyscrapers, homes, shops, all turned into dust; what was left was becoming dust. Tokyo, once a bustling city of over twelve million people, a city that held ten percent of Japan’s population....gone. Rockholt could not believe his eyes. A city of twelve million people turned into a ghost town with a single act of war.
“Take a good look at what you greedy Americans did,” the passenger in the truck turned around and spoke through the back window. “My life was taken away. I used to live there, I worked there. I listened to my families screams as they were trapped inside our home and burned to death.”
Rockholt, Barta, or Kenway had nothing to say to that. They knew of the thousands of men that died at Pearl Harbor because they were trapped in their sinking ships. They didn’t feel guilt, Japan had attacked them first, they brought this destruction onto their own people, but they were still amazed to see Tokyo just, gone. Seeing that, the carnage, the image was burned into their skulls; Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway did not want their homeland to die. They now had a better image of what they were fighting for. Already this war had raged on for five long miserable years, it was time it ended. Peace once again needed to be restored, at least a small fraction of peace so the earth could live to see another day.
Rapping on the back window of the truck until the passenger swiftly through it open and hit Rockholt in the face with the butt of his gun, Rockholt then asked, “Where did all the people go? Surely there had to be survivors, where did they go?” “They live among us,” the Japanese soldier replied. “Some wander the mountains as scavengers, roaming, never staying in one place to long. Others have made villages in the mountains, and others just gave up; as you will give up.”
They had now been in the truck for many hours and had not seen any sign of a village. They had not seen any sign of people, anywhere. It was as if the entire country of Japan was a ghost town.
Soon after they actually saw signs of life; they drove into a town, a town that was actually standing. The town had felt the effects of war, there was no questioning that. As the people curiously strolled out of their battered houses they were weak and small. The clothes hung to their wrinkled bodies by their shoulders, cords of rope were used to tie their pants to their waists so they would stay up. The guards brought the truck to the only refueling station in town. A giant barrel pegged up on stilts so that the fuel would run down and out. As the guards stepped out of the truck, their boots sloshing up the mud, the people started towards the truck. The guards paid no attention and seemed not to mind that hordes of sickly people were pressing up against the truck to get a look at what unfortunate creature was getting towed to its death.
Rockholt and his men could do nothing but lay still as hands reached into the bed of the truck and started to slap at their faces. Women slapped at the men yelling at them in Japanese. One woman was actually able to speak English and as she slapped Barta across the face; she yelled at him of how fowl he was, how fowl he was for killing her husband and driving them out of Tokyo. Barta then realized, “We are in one of the towns the guard spoke of captain.”
As they were being beaten up, men lifted children into the truck so they could stomp on the men. The children were too young to realize that they were being taught of how to kill, but they seemed to enjoy the fact that they were being allowed to jump on people. That they could kick and punch and bite these men and have no retaliation; one kid actually pulled down his pants and proceeded to urinate on the men, his deformed body shaking with laughter and glee as he was doing so.
All they could do was just sit there and take this humiliating torture. They were not being harmed as all the people had no strength to cause any physical harm, but mentally they could not stand the fact that they were being subdued to this. Being urinated on by some dinky little kid was not what the men called torture, but they did not call it fun and exciting either. If they lived through the war they were not going to write home or bring up at the bar of how they were chained down in the back of a truck and were urinated on by some kid. This was something they were going to keep to themselves.
After the truck was done refueling the guards now finally paid attention to the situation. Not that they were not before. Shooting their rifles into the air and roughly shoving the starving people out of the way they climbed back into the truck to get their garbage to the nearest dump. As they drove away the people were still yelling at them and throwing whatever they could. They all missed but they still felt some satisfaction in knowing they tried.
Now that their faces were red with hand marks and they smelled even worse than before, and just their luck the heavens manned up and stopped its tears so there was no rain to wash off the urine smell.
They dozed in and out of shallow sleep, wondering when this repugnant truck ride they were forced to be in was going to end. Once again as the day was turning into night the passenger opened the window and informed they were arriving at their burial sight. Coming to a stop at the gates the driver radioed in and the massive gates swung open. Slowly pulling through it gave the chance for Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway to take in where they were. They watched the gates swing shut, like a giant opening and closing his mouth, consuming his latest victims’ whole. When the gates shut they blocked out the setting sun; the three watched as their last beacon of hope was cut off from them. The sun had proven to be useful, rising every day to bring new hopes of survival in, now, they had nothing but themselves. Once again they were entering the devils living room, this time as the meal.
All around them skeletons lingered amongst them, no will to do anything, no strength to do anything but the manual labor they were ordered and beaten upon to do. Trenches were being dug around the perimeter of the imprisonment so that the walls could be fortified again. Billowing smoke rose from the center of the camp as the factory that was stationed there pumped out hordes of commodities fashioned for war. Lifeless forms were carrying boxes of something off a conveyer belt and stacking them into the back of a cargo truck that was preparing for departure.
They were here, they were correct; they had been brought to a concentration camp. They were heaved out of the truck and dropped onto the ground. Guards surrounded them and trained their guns on them as the chains binding them were loosened and clanged to the ground.
“If you want to run, run; but you will feel a bullet in your back. That is if you make it outside these prison walls.”
Rockholt knew that voice, that voice, hearing it again made his scar tingle, made a pit of fear from in his already knotted stomach, made him uneasy, it made him vengeful.
“John Rockholt, if only I had known it was you who had been captured I would have rolled out the red carpet for your arrival.” “The only red that will be rolling around is your blood as it seeps out of your chest, Ivan.” “Those are mighty strong words Rockholt, seeing as the predicament you are in.” “Ivan, chains may be able to bind me physically but they will never have any other matter of effect on me.” “You always were naive Rockholt, never could see the big picture. Take a look around you. You are in my house now, I am your master. You will do my bidding or I will bind you with a lot more than chains. You have felt my binding effects before,” Ivan smoothly stated to Rockholt.
A staring competition then formed between Ivan and Rockholt, everything around them seemed to stop, no movement as these two enemies locked gazes and were unwilling to let go. “You cannot scare me Rockholt, with your so called ‘psychological war tactics’ have no effect on me. But it seemed mine had an effect on you, an effect that has stayed with you through all these years, physically and mentally.” With that Ivan turned on the heel of his boot, threw down his cigarette and walked away laughing. His laugh was like a thousand nails being drug across a black board. His laugh had the power of piercing a man. His laugh was not of this world.
“I will have peace when I am done with you Ivan.”











































CHAPTER VIII

Watching that last sunset fade as the gates of the camp shut really took a toll on Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway’s morals. It felt as though the very life was sucked out of them and they had become like the people in the camp, lifeless. But they all knew they had something to keep fighting for. They all had a girl they were fighting for.
Rockholt had Jane, his wife who he was absolutely in love with. She could cook just the way he liked and she liked cooking that way, and every so often she would surprise him with a steak.
Barta, he was fighting for the sky. That was his girl, the sky, the open blue sky. He wanted to get up there, somehow he was going to fly in a jet and pilot one when they got out of this mess. Instead of being locked up he was going to be free to fly.
Kenway he had his wife, Elizabeth. His fireball of a wife was a red head mistress of his. He loved her and was willing to go to war for her. He met her when he and his boys back home went out for a night on the town. He will never forget how she kicked his trash at pool, so he then had to buy her the drink, which in turn he got her number and they eventually got married.
Rockholt didn’t have Jane here, there was no steak being cooked. Every night they received what they called ‘mush.’ Truck loads of this stuff came in every week and from what they could tell it was ground up garbage. Barta didn’t have the sky or the mountains to run to. He was confined with these four walls and it was making him frenzied. He wanted to unleash the beast from within and break down the walls and run, run free. Kenway didn’t have his love of a fireball running around. There was no pool table, only the tables where they stacked the dead so they could be disposed of. Every night he tried to see through the thick clouds of smoke and discouragement that shrouded the camp from the outside world so he could look at the night sky, so he could see his love’s reflection shine off of the moon.
Rockholt, Barta, and Kenway were the only three people in the camp that still had some definition to them. They, not yet anyways, were not lifeless. They thought of giving to becoming lifeless skeletons, it seemed like a good idea to give in so they could just float around day by day and not see the harsh reality they had been thrown into. But they knew they had to serve their country, they knew who they were, they were Delta 8, an elite strike force team trained to accomplish the unthinkable, trained to complete the impossible missions, and trained to evade and survive. So they were a little stuck on the evading part, but as of right now they could survive. Part of their daily routine, besides the roll call in the morning and lining up to be sprayed down with a foul smelling decontaminant, then as a team they would jog a lap around the encampment and do some calisthenics to get their heart rates up and to keep ready for they day they busted out of this place. Even Barta who was still having some trouble with this gunshot wound to his leg kept up on these exercises. He told them that when the day came he was not going to slow them down in the least bit.
There day began when the sun came up and there day ended well after it went down. Massive speakers rigged to the top of each of the barracks where the prisoners were housed Japanese rock music played in the mornings to wake them up. Then they were miraculously given an hour of free time, not that there was much to do, but this is when Delta 8 would perform their workouts. The barracks where they were housed were shacks. Wood frames were prefabricated and sheet metal was draped across and nailed into place. During rain storms no one got any sleep because of the constant racket the rain made against the metal, but it was better than the gunshots and screams they often heard. During the day the barracks became saunas, which was ironic because no one in the camp was looking to lose any weight. Rough wood plank bunks were constructed and each prisoner was given one thin wool blanket. There was no bedding, the men slept right on the wood which gave them sores after the first few weeks. Latrines were unheard of in the camp. If you had to go in the middle of the night you went right where you were laying because the doors were locked and bolted at night; many of the prisoners did go where they were laying for lack of bowel control from the torment they had received but also because of the malnourishment and sicknesses that were spread through out the camp. The bunks were stacked three high and ten across, each barracks could hold sixty people. There were no ventilation shafts so when you crammed in all those people in there a very fine mist formed from all the sweat and breathing, and the only running water in the camp was in the soldier’s barracks. The only time the prisoners got a shower was when it stormed, other than that nothing. The barracks reeked of death and decaying bodies.
The chemical substance that they were sprayed down with every morning was used to kill any lice and other infestations they may have picked up while they were packed into the barracks. The guards gave no warning of when they were going to spray and if you did not get your mouth and eyes shut in time it would burn your eyes and could potentially cause you to lose your eye sight, and if you breathed it in through your mouth it would erode the inside of your throat. If you did not get your ears or nose plugged in time along with shutting your mouth and eyes it would burn your sense of smell right out of you after a few shots, if it got into your ears it would clean them out but would also cause faintness and dizziness.
The men had only been in the camp for a month but already they were put through grueling projects of manual labor. Since they had the most strength they were given the extreme tasks of moving supplies around so fortifications could be made to the already solid fortress of a prison. They hauled steel barriers from one end of the camp to the other, they moved dirt, and they dug ditches for the walls that were being put into place so the walls would stand teen feet thick instead of eight feet thick. At the bottom of these eight foot ditches they had to dig they were ordered to place the bodies of the dead, one reason was for disposable purposes but the other was to provide a more solid foundation.
It didn’t matter rain or shine, the prisoners were always working. If it rained the guards just huddled up in their towers to keep watch on the prisoners, and when it rained the ditches would fill with water. This caused the sides of the ditch to cave in so they had to re-dig it out, but also a few prisoners giving up on the will to live would drown themselves in the murky water. If it was sunny they would march around and whip the prisoners in the back and hit their heads with wooden bats to make them work faster.
As Rockholt was digging a foundation ditch a guard hit him in the head along with Barta and Kenway. “Never start with the head, the victim can’t feel the next blow,” Rockholt said in a very smart-alic tone. The soldier then whirled around and whipped him fiercely. “How did that feel pig?” “It actually kind of tickled a little.” After that the guard kept walking and Rockholt kept digging, but it gave Rockholt some smug satisfaction knowing he was a frustrating burden to the guards.
While they were digging with another group of men, women, and even children, it didn’t matter; if they could hold a shovel they had to work. But as they were digging a man drove his shovel into the ground in which it caused the head of the shovel to break off. He instantly became terrified and tried to cover the broken shovel before a guard to see but was to slow. “You dare break Japanese property?!” The guard shouted at the helpless man as he beat upon him with his wooden bat. “You will pay for your uselessness!” The soldier then lifted the man out of the ditch by the collar of his dirty and tattered shirt and hefted him to the center of the camp where he called the attention of every prisoner and ordered them to pay attention. “You are all worthless muskrats! We give you a home here and a few of you don’t appreciate that we keep you safe from the war that rages outside these walls. You now will witness what will be your fate if you dare trudge upon the Japanese empire in any way!” The soldier continued to shout insanities in very broken English with a bit of Japanese in there. Rockholt struggled to understand the grammar but was very aware of what was going to happen. The man was going to be hung.
The Japanese soldier tied the hands of the man together and strung him to the flag pole that was in the middle of the prison courtyard. Then with the help of another guard they hoisted the man up until his feet left the ground. They then proceeded to beat on this man. They tore his shirt off of him and whipped his back until it was raw and bloody, they beat his ribs with their bats until they went purple. They beat the man to death as the entire camp looked on. Men looked away, children coward into their mother’s arms, but Rockholt held his gaze fast. He could not look away from the brutality that was being portrayed upon this innocent man.
The man screamed the entire time during his beating. He not only screamed in pain, but he screamed for god to save him. Rockholt could not understand why this man screamed to god. If god was really there why did he not take this man down from the pole and free everyone in this camp?
The body of the man was left strung up for a few days as a testimonial for the other prisoners as to what would happen if they tried anything stupid.
Rockholt pondered the dying mans screams asking god to save him. “Why, why pray to someone who is not there. Or is he?” That was the thought plaguing Rockholt’s mind as he continued his work in the camp, is there a god? And did he hear our prayers? He told his son to pray for him to come home, maybe it was time he started to pray.
As the camp was ordered to return to their barracks for the night, Rockholt paused and dropped to his worn out knees, kneeling there in the mud he opened his mouth and uttered a very simple prayer. “God, if you are there and can hear me, please....” He then rose and continued the short distance to his assigned barracks.









CHAPTER IX

Every morning Jane had mixed emotions of opening the mail box. After she would make the short walk down her front porch and across the street to the beat up black mail box she would let her hand rest on the handle. It was always a constant internal wrestle that brought her to tears it got so violent every now and then that she would make sure not to put makeup on so her son, Vincent, would not know she had cried if she did. The ‘what if’ game always deemed itself as a worth opponent.
She prepared herself that cool crisp summer morning, as the sun rose over the mountains to the east, as to what she may find waiting in the shadows of her mail box. She had watched the mail man pull up and place something in her box from the front window of her living room. Now that she was here she was not sure if she wanted to find out what had been placed in there. Was it more money from Rockholt’s mom? More bills she had to budget perfectly in order to pay them? Or was it the letter she had feared for the last two months?
She had received her last letter from her beloved John almost two and a half months ago. She knew that it took time for letters to travel but she was fearing that he was dead and that a blood red envelope was going to appear in her mailbox informing her that she was going to get a visitor or summoning her to the military base.
If she received that letter she was not sure that she would be able to survive. Every morning she wondered if what she felt was what being in war felt like. If that letter appeared the mailbox would be the gun, the envelope would be the brass casing, the letter would be the bullet, and the words would be the pain.
Slowly, begrudgingly she worked open the squeaky hinges of the box and forced her blood shot eyes to peer in. Nothing except for junk mail. She could breathe again. She always held her breath when she got to the mailbox she had come to notice. It was becoming a bad habit of hers but she could not control it, it was as if her body took over her mind at that point.
She fingered through the magazines as she turned and walked back inside. As she stepped in Vincent came running to her jumping into her arms. As he did so Jane dropped all of the magazines in order to catch him. “Sorry mommy but you looked like you needed a hug,” Vincent softly whispered in her ear. She set him down and he took off again flying around the house in his Superman cape. Tears formed in her eyes once more as she watched him take off, how did he know? How did he know what exactly made her feel better?
One morning he surprised her with breakfast in bed. He had used a chair to get into the pantry and pull down his favorite box of cereal, Lucky Charms. He then proceeded to push his chair to the fridge and pull out the milk. He pushed the chair around the kitchen to the various cabinents to get out two bowls and two spoons. Then balancing the milk, bowels, and spoons on top of the box he carried his load down the hall to her bedroom and walked up to the edge of the bed, gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her that he loved her. She remembered as she was waking up she spoke outloud asking if that was John. But when she opened her eyes there was Vincent. For a brief moment she felt sorrow but then guilt that she felt sorrow for seeing her son and not her husband.
Vincent explained to her that he had brought her breakfast in bed because this was her day. He told her that she was going to relax all day while he took care of the house work; of course he could not do it all without some help, but he did what he could. So after he had climbed up in the bed and they ate their Lucky Charms Vincent started the housework.
He pushed his chair over to the sink and did the dishes the way he had watched his mom do them. He carefully filled the sink with water, making sure it was not to hot and not to cold. He then carefully poured in a small amount of dish soap and scrubbed the dishes, rinsed them and put them in the strainer to air dry. Then he got the broom out of the closet and started to sweep the floor. With the broom being taller than him, he struggled a little with this task. But when Jane offered to help him he took her by the hand to the couch, put a blanket over her, went and retrieved her favorite book out of her bedroom and told her to relax and went back to sweeping the floor. That day he cleaned the toilets, emptied the trash cans, and even mopped the floor after he was done with sweeping. After he finished all of those tasks it got quiet. A little worried Jane investigated and found Vincent asleep on the floor. The little guy had exhausted himself by working all morning long so his mom could have some relaxation time.
Jane was touched and amazed at Vincent’s love and compassion for her, but then she remembered who his daddy was and the love and compassion he had for her.
Vincent followed his father everywhere. If he was going to the hardware store he always asked if he could go, and of course John had no problem what so ever if he came. One particular visit to the store Jane remembered well because John could not stop telling her about it when he got home, and the entire time he smiled about it.
As they were on their way home from the store they stopped and picked up some Mcdonalds. John had told Vincent that he had to eat all of his food before he could have the toy that came in the happy meal. As they pulled out of the parking lot and coming to the intersection the light went straight from green to red and as he slammed on his breaks Vincent’s drink covered his lap and his fries flew out of his tiny hands all over the car. John was stunned at the word that came flying out of his son’s mouth. He turned to his son and asked him where he learned to talk like that. John was wondering if he had picked it up from a TV show, but he was informed that his son learned it from him. His son told him how he watched him and that he wanted to be just like him when he grew up. He told him of how they both wore camo pants, they both liked to hold mamma’s hand, and they both liked to fix things. John started to laugh with a big grin and rubbed his son on the head and told him how much he loved him.
Jane stood there staring out the back window into the yard watching Vincent fly around like Superman as she continued to reminisce on that wonderful day.
When John got home Vincent ran into the house all excited but John hung back and leaned up against his truck bowing his head. There he uttered a prayer, he was not sure to whom but he still uttered words out of his mouth. That night as he was tucking Vincent into bed, he read him all his favorite bed time stories and as he was walking out of Vincent’s room he saw his boy get out of bed onto his knees, fold his little arms and heard him start praying. He was overcome with emotion and put his hands to his mouth as soft tears rained down from his eyes and caressed his cheeks with joy. A soft smile came to his face as he stood in the doorway listening to his son’s prayer.
“Mommy did you see me? Did you see me mommy?” Vincent tugging on her pant leg brought her back to the present from her wonderful daydream. She had not even heard him come back in the house.
Once again Vincent ran out into the yard. She could not help but see John running around the yard with him. Vincent was so much like him, full of spunk and life and always wanted to know more.
Oddly Vincent stopped in the middle of his run, turned and walked back into the house carefully shutting the door behind him and told his mom, “I am proud of dad.” “Why is that Vincent?” “Because he is my hero, he is my Superman as he is your Superman. And he is Superman to all the people he is saving. Everyone needs a hero.”
Vincent did not know how badly his father needed a hero like him at that very moment. He needed his son to set him free.

































CHAPTER X

One can lose track of time when it seems time itself is lost. Rockholt had no recollection of time; he did not know how long he had been the hunted instead of the hunter.
In the camp they had no privacy, they were always being watched. Rockholt lost count of the ditches he had dug long ago; he had witnessed the deaths of hundreds of people both old and young. It seemed that he had permanent bruises from being beaten so much. His torso was constantly a different color from bruising, malnourishment, and whatever sickness he had. There was no doctor but there was a sickbay a prisoner could check themselves into and rest for a few days. Only problem, there were ways of disposing of the sickly discretely. It seemed that once you checked in very few ever checked out.
At night if you somehow were able to watch the back door of the sickbay you would see the guards caring some matter of bulk out and loading whatever they were carrying in the back of a truck. Rumors floated through the camp as to what was being loaded, but those in the back of the truck paid the ultimate price to find out the truth.
Rockholt, Kenway, and Barta were amongst the group of people who had been there the longest. The life expectancy was extremely low in the camps and new prisoners replaced the dead ones constantly. They were still Delta 8 but were ever so slowly but surely turning into lifeless skeletons but somehow managed to keep their heads above the water. Only thing was in the pool they were swimming in they did not have lifeguards, it had death guards.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rockholt did not need to hear the crazy, mind destroying Japanese rock music to know it was time to wake up. His body had become so used to when it was time to wake up his internal clock had his own alarm. Every morning his swollen and horrified eyes would flash open right before the music would start to play.
As every other morning he rolled of his wood bunk and fell to the ground along with all other fifty-nine others in his barracks, which included Barta and Kenway. Rubbing the light useless sleep out of his eyes he stumbled out into the courtyard so that he could be sprayed down, get his bowl of mush, take his morning jog and then continue to his designated work site.
As he was waiting in line to be sprayed down two pairs of rough hands grabbed him from behind. He had no strength to resist; all he could do was give in to the two guards. Even if he had the strength to resist it would have resulted in his fatality. “What about breakfast?” “Shut up! Where you are going you will be dead before you are hungry,” replied the taller of the two guards. Rockholt was marched across the courtyard to a building he had not yet discovered in his morning runs.
The building was built entirely out of concrete and had stains on the outside that Rockholt did not have the stomach to ask what they came from. As the door was pushed open he could not help but think that they were being filmed for some horror movie. The door squeaked as it swung open and there was nothing inside until a single light suspended by a chain was turned on. In the shadows was a man; he spoke for Rockholt to sit in the only chair available. His scar started to burn as he heard the voice.
Before he could take a step forward the guards threw him into the chair and bound his hands and legs to the sides of the chair with thick cord. When he was denied mobility of his limbs the one person Rockholt actually feared stepped out of the shadows, Ivan.
It felt as though someone was resting a red hot iron against the side of his neck. His scar was burning! It was as if Ivan had some kind of control over him. A fear that he had only felt once before he felt again, sweat beaded his brow, his hands trembled along with the loss of blood they were tied so tight. His pupils frantically dilated in and out, his heart was racing as if going to explode. The walls of the roomed seemed to close in, he could not breathe, from his bruised torso but mainly because of the fear that clouded the room which was emitting from him.
“A little scared there Rockholt?” Ivan was standing so his face was half in the light and half in the dark; which was ironic because he had no light side to him. “It seems as if god has struck fear into you. Or I have struck fear into you? Are you a god fearing man? Or do you fear me?” “You only wish,” replied Rockholt attempting to hide his fear but failing miserably. Ivan motioned for the two guards to leave. “As I remember correctly I have had you in this position before,” saying that a malicious stare and smile formed on Ivan’s face. “Let us see here captain, correct me if I am wrong at any point. It was right after this war had started and you were just a private then, not a captain. I remember that my team ambushed your team and you were the lucky one who got caught at that time. Anything wrong so far captain?” As Ivan said that he saluted in a very sarcastic way. All Rockholt could do was stare back, of course he was right, Ivan had ambushed him, Ivan had given him..... “To continue then if you are just going to stare at me, I was the one who caught you and escorted you back to my base. Being the senior interrogator I had the pleasure and privilege of torturing you. You were tough Rockholt, you did not crack as I had expected. But your team did crack, all of them. You were the only one that did not give up vital information to me.”
That statement was a sucker punch to Rockholt’s gut. That explained why so many missions went wrong, how it seemed that the enemy always knew they were coming. His team had given up on him all those years ago. “What about Barta and Kenway? Would they give up?”
Out of no where Ivan turned and punched Rockholt across the jaw. “Once again you are my punching bag.” Ivan continued to punch him, beating his ribs, jaw, face, everywhere. Ivan paused briefly to ask Rockholt, “What was your last mission? You are the only one who knows, now what was it?” “Ivan you can beat me until I break and bleed but you already know that your not going to get that information out of me.” “But I can always try.” With that the beating continued now with a bat to his kidneys. Grunting and choking but never screaming out loud, he was not going to give Ivan the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
“Why don’t you just finish this and kill me?” Rockholt asked Ivan breathing heavily, his faced covered in blood and his ribs bruised once more. With a stunned look on his face and an almost pleased look on his face Ivan responded, “Why would I kill you? You are too much fun. No Rockholt, you complete me. You see you are the unbreakable force and I am the immovable force.” “You may not crack but what about Barta and Kenway? Do they have the same bullet proof skin as you do?” Puffing out his battered chest, “Barta and Kenway will never give into you Ivan. Not to you, not to anyone. They are my Brothers in Arms.” “Brothers can be turned against each other. With the right push and leverage you can start a civil war between two brothers. “Your men will not remember you when you are dead Rockholt, so why fight for them?” “That is where you are wrong Ivan. I may die but my heritage will live on. Brothers do not forget brothers; they can’t after they have been through hell together.”
All went silent until Ivan’s devilish laugh pierced the still air and vibrated off of the sound proof walls of the cement torture chamber. “Do you know why I gave you that scar the last time I tortured you?” Rockholt had always wondered that himself. “Do you even know why you gave me this scar you twisted son of a gun?” “I gave you that scar, Captain John Rockholt, so you would always know the pains of fear. That you would always remember the pain I caused you, that my presence would haunt you for the rest of your life. “You see,” Ivan spoke bending down to Rockholt’s right ear, “I am just a genius, which is why I gave you that scar of yours.” “Ivan you need to learn to shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” “Once again I don’t think you are in the position to make threats Rockholt.” “I promise you that soon, soon I will put a knife into your chest. I am going to be the one to shut your mouth Ivan.”
With that Ivan smiled and with one swift movement knocked Rockholt out. A few hours later Rockholt woke up in the mud right outside his barracks. His head throbbed painfully as he lifted it up towards the sky. As his eyes focused he saw Barta and Kenway running to him. “Captain what happened to you? You have been gone all day,” Kenway informed him. Coughing because of his bruised ribs Rockholt asked them what time it was. “Well, you were taken when the sun was rising and now it is setting, look,” Barta said pointing to the west. Through the fog and smoke Rockholt could barely make out the sun as it was sinking behind the mountains. That feeling of despair he felt that first time he watched the sun set as the gates closed when he was first brought here to the camp.
He lifted his hand to his scar and traced it from top to bottom remembering all the times that he felt like he was being watched, or someone was following him, now he knew why. Ivan had given him a physical blemish that would continue to haunt him unless he did something about it. He had to live with his scar, he had no choice there, but he did not have to live with the fear. He was tired of living scared; he wanted to be free from his fear; free from this place but free from the mental prison Ivan had jailed him in. He would keep his promise to Ivan; he would be the one to shut his mouth. Permanently.












CHAPTER XI

That night as they sat in there barracks talking amongst themselves the topic turned to escaping. They needed to get out, if anyone stayed in this camp they would surely die, but if any escape attempt was uncovered they would die then. And Ivan would love to catch Rockholt trying to escape. A fellow prisoner of theirs, an old woman by the name of Becca turned to them and jumped into their conversation. “There is no escape you three. You three are strong; you can survive until the camp is liberated. Already there is talk of forces being here within a month.” “A month is to long, we will all be dead by then. We have to get out now,” Rockholt spoke to them staring off into space.
“You know,” Rockholt started. “I am just trying to be a father and a loving husband. I have bills that I cannot pay, Jane writes me about them. I am not out here for the glory. But I am good under pressure to be all I can be, we do not have the privilege of calling in sick on Mondays when the weekend was to long. We do not get breaks, we work all through the night, we do not get holidays off. I sure as heck do not want to die in this hole, but, if I do I will die as an American Soldier. I am proud to take the stand with you Barta, and you Kenway. I know that because we are out here on the frontlines our families back home can sleep well, in safety. I have counted up the cost while we have been here in this camp, freedom, does not come free, sacrifices have to be made, and if that means dying, I will bear that cross with honor, as a true American Soldier.”
“I am in captain,” Barta said. “Me to.” “Let us go home boys.” With that they all three started to plan their escape. They were not sure how they were going to do it, but it had to be done. They had ideas of digging a tunnel out of the camp. Only problems were that the tunnel would have to be up to ten feet deep and would be filled with rain water very quickly, and there was really no way to hide it from the peering eyes of the guards. And whatever their idea they had to keep it from all of the other prisoners so it would not become corrupted and no one else would try to escape with them.
“How many are we going to get out captain,” Kenway asked. “One. There is only time to get one out. It is risky once they are out, but with one that person can move quicker and it will be easier to sneak out one person instead of four or five.”
Talk of distracting the guards in the towers so the person could climb over the fence was brought up and discussed. Again the problems included the fencing. The barricades rose up twenty-five feet and were smooth as silk. There was no way of finding a hand or foot hold without a ladder and there was no ladder they had access to, even if they did get one not a twenty five foot ladder. Then how would they get down the other side was plaguing them. That idea was quickly tossed out of the equation.
They talked of playing sick and hiding out in the barracks all day and when the guard came in to look for them they could overrun him and give the one rifle to the one man and he could create a one man stand in the camp and with whatever ammunition was left in the gun that man could take out the other guards and walk right out of the front door. The odds of that happening were extremely unlikely.
Through the night they stayed up bouncing ideas off of each other and talking, planning their escape. It was going to be a tedious task to figure something out, but as they say one day of the food in jail can kill you, either way they were ready to be free and live. The next morning they started to take even more careful note of every detail. The rotation of the guards, where the watch towers were located, at what time shipments came in, possible escape routes, blind spots of the guard towers, when guards changed if there was a blind spot there, possible hiding places, everything they could think of that would be important to their escape.
Over the next few days they gathered information that would help them create plans. It was a process seeing as they could not just freely stroll around the camp writing down all the details as they pleased. They were prisoners, they had very limited movement within the camp, and they knew if they did not get out soon it was going to become even stricter.
An evening sometime later they sat up talking once again of how they were going to escape. There were many things to be worked out, but they started to make progress. The one thing that slowed them down was the choice of who was going to get out, and who was going to stay and wait it out. Naturally both Barta and Kenway told Rockholt that he was going to be the one to get out. He fought it and countered back of why should he be the one to get out? They argued back and forth until Rockholt realized he was not going to sway either of their minds. He was the one who was going to escape and he was the one who was going to get them out. He was going to give them their freedom back after he gained his even if it meant that he lost his freedom of life. He was prepared to make that sacrifice for these men. He had fought along side them now for so long that he trusted them with his life and even that of his family. They were not just his Brothers in Arms, they were his brothers.
Now that he was the one who was going to get out and be free, he felt an enormous amount of pressure pressed onto his feeble shoulders at the thought of everything. He had no control over any of this. He had no control over whether they all lived or died, he had no control to if their plans fanned out correctly, that is once they got plans made. He had no control when he was out if he was going to get shot and die in some ditch with no one ever finding his body. He didn’t know if Barta and Kenway were going to die when he was gone. Nothing, he had control over absolutely nothing, and that scared him. Rockholt is a man that liked direction in his life, sure he never knew how the war was going to play out, but he liked to know that he could complete his orders. He was not one to give up, but he knew when the battle was lost, and right now he was not sure. He was not sure if they had a chance to get out or if they were all going to die trying. It is one thing to make a promise and another thing to keep that promise. Rockholt was a man of his word but he did not know if he was going to be able to get his team out. He wanted to go home just as bad as they did, he was going to give that to them.
As they sat discussing more and more of what needed to be done, of how they were going to get out they all stopped in midsentence as they received the answer to their prayers. A sound. A single sound gave them all the answers as to how they were going to get out. They heard the engine of a shipment truck roar to life and fade off into the distance as it drove out of the camp with no one giving it a second thought. That was their ticket out of here. Every week trucks came in with shipments of supplies for the camp and the factory. Trucks also came into haul out the excess of dead bodies that were not used in the landscaping of the camp. Plans started to form around these trucks. They needed to find a way to utilize the trucks into their plans.
“I have it!” Barta jumped up from the bed and started to speak rapidly. “The trucks that come in and carry off the dead bodies is how you are going to get out of here captain.” Barta continued to his explain his idea to Rockholt and Kenway. He told them of how the truck came in every week usually around the same time, always at night and it seemed like always on the same day. If they could track when the truck came they could get out with it. He told them that his plan was to sneak Rockholt onto the truck that carried the bodies away, if he could hide amongst the carnage no one would see him and he would be a free man.
Over the next two week period they tried to track every truck that came in. They tracked where it parked, what was unloaded or what was loaded. They noticed how many guards were with it. They came to the conclusion that the truck that took away dead bodies was the truck with the least guard units and it parked relatively close to their barracks. That was the truck they were going to use.
The plan was simple, get Rockholt on that truck. That night they carefully proceeded with their plan, it was not a complex plan at all. Kenway was to make a racket in the barracks to get the guards to come look at what the problem was and when all the lights and guards were at the barracks Rockholt was going to have to move swiftly from the trench they had dug by the barracks to get to the truck without being noticed. As he lay flat on his stomach in the trench waiting for the commotion to take place he kept getting more worried. They were all going to die if this did not work. Ivan would kill him, even if he did complete him; he was going to die if this did not work. And he could die if this did work. He had no idea where to go if he got out, he was going to have to trust his instinct to stay alive.
Snapped out of his daydream by a howling coming from inside he watched as all the guard towers trained the spotlights on the barracks and the guards in the camp ran into the barracks. Once he was sure no one would notice him he quickly crawled out of his hiding place and crawled across the muddy ground to the edge of the sickbay. There was the truck, not twenty feet away. These next twenty feet had to be exact or he would get a bullet in his back. To the left of the truck there were two guards and inside collecting bodies were two other guards. He waited in the shadows for a few moments to see if the guards were going to turn around. When he was satisfied that there attention was elsewhere he crept from the shadows and quickly and as quietly as he could sprinted to the back of the truck and hoisted himself up in.
He now had to hold his breath and look dead so that the guards would continue to stack bodies on top of him and conceal him. But nothing could have prepared him for the smell that met him when he got into the truck. It made him choke out which caused the guards to turn. He lay flat and did not move a muscle; the guards searched around the truck and then went in to collect more bodies. As bodies were stacked upon top of him he was having a harder and harder time breathing. Just as he thought he was going to pass out one of the guards got into the truck and pulled out of the camp. He was free. But for how long? Riding in the back of that truck gave Rockholt time to think with what brain power he had left. He was worried that when he shifted the bodies to get out that the guards would see it and kill him. He slowly shifted the bodies and pushed a few off of the back of the truck so he himself could jump off. He carefully rolled off of the back of the truck and hit the ground rolling hard. The breath in him was knocked out and he received a few other bruises. He could have stayed in the truck for a while longer but he had no way of knowing when they were going to stop and discover him, so he ditched. Now, he had to find home. He had to search. He was free but lost. He now had the task of getting his men out alive; no man was ever left behind. He was not going to leave his brothers behind. He was going back. Liberty was in jeopardy, he had to do the right thing. He was trained to be ready when the wolf knocked at the door, but now he was knocking on the wolfs door. He was going to give his brothers freedom, but he knew that freedom did not come free. A sacrifice had to be made.






































CHAPTER XII

Each step could be his last; every step had to be a cautious one and carefully planned so if he alerted any nearby enemies he could run. Following the road for some time he eventually veered off into the trees on the side and traveled in the cover they provided. Sneaking like a scared animal he traveled on foot through the night. Any sound made him jump, every time he heard a truck coming he would duck down and peer through the trees to see what he was up against. He knew by now that his escape had been discovered. With each passing minute more and more trucks sped down the road in his direction making it harder for him to hide and to run. Progress was slow but he had made a promise to Kenway and Barta. He was going to get them out alive, he was sure of that. Himself out alive once he got back, that was another internal debate that he put on hold because right now he had to keep himself alive in order to get them out alive and seeing as soldiers kept crossing his path that was becoming more and more difficult.
Rockholt stopped and rested his back against a tree to catch his breath really quick. He had no provisions with him and no weapons but his own bare hands. He was skilled at hand to hand combat but there was no way he was going to survive in this blasted jungle for more than a few weeks if he did it right. Sitting there he recalled a book he had read before the war about a Vietnam War hero by the name of Captain Lance Sijan. Sijan was a bomber pilot and was shot down deep in enemy territory. He was badly injured but never gave up. Even after multiple rescue attempts failed because of the dense cover and enemy fire he told his team to back off and save themselves. He then continued on his own with a broken leg through the jungle. He would stab his knife into the ground over his head and then push with his good leg to propel himself through the jungle. He evaded capture for weeks surviving on streams that ran through the mountains and courage, which is what kept him alive.
While Rockholt was in that camp he recalled on that story more than once to keep him going. Sijan did not give up no matter the circumstances, even when he was in prison he did not give up. He died a hero to his country and his fellow men. He was a hero. Now it was Rockholt’s turn to be that hero, he wanted to be the hero his son was to him. As time passed he did not notice that he was dozing off and that a pack of enemies were heading his way through the trees. “John!” Jolting awake he started to run through the trees to evade the enemies. Who had woken him? He had heard a voice say his name, he then felt that feeling, the one he felt when he met Jane and the one he felt when he went to that Mormon Church, his heart was full. Something inside him told him that he was ok and that he was not alone. Confused Rockholt kept running, cutting, swerving through the trees so as not to get captured once again. He was a free man and he was going to stay that way. Now it was up to him to free his men, to bring freedom to this land.
No one knew he was on the run besides the ones looking for him, Kenway, and Barta. But no one back home knew he was in this situation, not Jane, not his mom, not his commanding officer. There was no help coming, and he knew he was alone. Running alone through the jungle he saw something out of the corner of his eye and immediately jumped to the ground expecting to have gunfire rain over his head, instead, nothing. He cautiously got up and whatever he saw was gone, so he continued on his way pushing himself to his limits to find help. Once again he saw something or someone running with him, on both sides of him. When he slowed these mysterious figures slowed, when he stopped they vanished. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was the sickness making him delirious? Or were Ivan’s games getting into his head?
Lost in his own thoughts of these mysterious figures that were running with him, matching him step for step he did not seem to notice the enemies that were to his left, and they did not seem to notice him. But how? Too worried of being shot and killed he just continued running.
Shortly after he found another one of the refuge villages the locals had built. He crouched down and worked his way up to where he could see into the village. No one, no movement what so ever was taking place. Slowly he worked his way down the mountain he was on to take a closer look; once again he saw no movement. He continued into the village and an uneasy presence came over him. He felt no movement, no souls here. He moved from hut to hut looking for anything he could use to help him along his perilous run through the jungle with nothing to guide him. He found an old rusted knife while he was scavenging and armed himself with it.
Laughter. Tensing up and placing his newly acquired knife in front of him as to prepare for a fight he stopped to listen. Laughter. He was hearing children’s laughter. Moving up to the door of the hut he nudged it open and looked down the street. Parked at the other end was an old Toyota truck with a single man standing next to it. Two kids then came out of a warehouse at the end of the alley. Rockholt found it interesting that they were skipping back to their father, or walking funky. Was it a game they were playing? When the kids reached the truck they all got in and drove away, taking no notice to Rockholt.
Taking a step forward he felt a pair of hands grab him by the shoulders and pull him back. He spun around slicing the air with his knife, nothing. No one was there, so who had grabbed him? Turning back around he went to take another step forward and this time was pushed down onto his back. As he sat up he then saw the danger in front of him, trip wire mines. The entire alley of the village was laced with them. That is why the children were walking the way they were. They were not skipping; they were stepping over the wires. If he had not been pushed back by whatever had pushed him back he would have stepped on one, no doubt about it. Carefully standing up and dusting off what clothes were left on his body he froze. A truck with three Japanese soldiers pulled around the bend and he was standing right in their sights. He quickly analyzed his options and started to run through the mine field hopping from one foot to the other to avoid tripping a mine. The soldiers were not so smart. One of them stepped on a wire and the mine blew up. Everything slowed down, Rockholt felt as though it took all his strength to lift one foot, and the blast seemed to slowly reach the soldier and kill him along with the two others. The mines were wired when one went off they all went off in a chain reaction. Abandoning any effort to avoid the wires Rockholt ran, he ran for his life. He was doing that a lot lately. With explosions going off to his right and his left he was getting caught in the middle of them with shrapnel narrowly missing him. He jumped! He jumped through the fire and flames as the last mine went off landing face down in the dirt with his arms covering his head. Rolling over onto his back he propped himself up on his elbows and looked back down the alley. Everything was destroyed. Everything that is except the truck the Japanese had arrived in. Replaying what had just happened in his mind the truck should have been destroyed along with everything else but there it was. Slowly he got up; putting his head between his knees he caught his breath and stumbled forward to the truck. The keys were still in the ignition. He got in, started the truck and drove out of there. That explosion would not go unnoticed and already he could hear advancements being made to his position. He put the gas pedal to the floor and fought the truck for control as the tires peeled out in the mud. When he got to the end of the alley another truck pulled up and was full of Japanese soldiers. He veered around them and continued down the mountain. The roads were washed out again from a recent rain storm that had come through. The tires of the truck struggled to gain traction and mud kept splashing up onto the windshield. Continuously he washed the wind shield and continuously it remained dirty. The Japanese had now got up to him and were opening fire upon him. Bullets shattered the back window of the truck and one grazed his ear. When the bullet grazed him it caused him to jerk and the truck spun out of control, fighting the steering wheel after the truck had performed an entire 360 spin he was able to gain control of the truck and narrowly missed careening over the edge of the mountain. The ride was getting more treacherous with a drop off to his left and men behind him with guns who wanted to kill him. After a few miles the drop off came back into the mountain and the truck behind him was able to pull up next to him.
Rockholt grabbed his knife; with his right hand on the steering wheel and the knife in his left he leaned out the window and stabbed one of the soldiers in the chest and pulled him off of the truck which if the stab wound did not kill him, getting run over by the truck did. Rockholt ducked back into the truck as bullets rained in. He slammed on the brakes so the other truck went ahead of him. He then sped up ramming the other truck which caused another soldier to fall out onto the hood of the truck he was driving. The soldier managed to hang onto the hood and shoot into the truck at the same time; Rockholt kicked the windshield while driving and stabbed that soldier to get rid of him. He then sped up and got in front again where he opened his door and jumped out. “That is the second truck I have jumped out of today,” Rockholt said after he was done rolling. The Japanese truck blocked by the other truck, the driver could not see the oncoming tree. When they slammed into the tree Rockholt ran to them and finished them off with his knife by swiftly cutting their throats.
He stopped all motion and took in the destruction he had caused with a single knife and a truck. But he was alive. That was all that mattered right now; he had to stay alive in order to get Kenway and Barta out of that concentration camp. Every minute that ticked by was a minute they were closer to dying. He knew that the guards would interrogate them about his escape; he could only pray that they would not give in. When life pushes you to your knees you are in the perfect position to pray. Rockholt fell to his knees and started to pray. “God, I do not know if you are there, I do not know if you can hear me, but I am praying. I am praying because I have seen things and felt things that I cannot describe to myself. I need strength to get my men out alive. If you are listening please protect them and help them have the strength to live. Uh, that is all Lord.”
He looked to they sky as he stood up and once again his heart was lifted; he had that feeling.



CHAPTER XIII

“I am a genius, which is why I gave you that scar.” “Die Ivan!” Rockholt yelled plunging his knife into Ivan’s chest.
He then woke up panting, sweat all over his body; he had stuck his knife into a nearby tree. “Where am I?” He said out still panting heavily looking around and taking everything in. He felt sick, he leaned over and dry heaved. He continued to dry heave for a few minutes. The reason he was dry heaving was because he had nothing in his stomach to vomit out. Wiping his mouth free of saliva he collapsed onto the ground from convulsions that racked his entire body. He could not stop himself from yelling out in pain.
“Over here! We have found him!” From his yelling he led the Japanese right to him. He had to force himself to uncurl from the pain and stand up. He had to run. Already he could feel the barrels of the guns that were trained on his back. With one final blood curling scream of agony Rockholt jumped up and took off running, weaving through the trees as they exploded from the impact of the bullets. His path was stopped short when he came to a skidding stall at a cliff. Peering over he saw that there was a river and a waterfall going off of the cliff. He turned as the Japanese caught up to him, now his back was to the cliff.
“You have no where to run you filthy American!” With that Rockholt let himself free fall backwards off of the cliff. He put his arms above his heads as he was falling through the air, arching his back along as well. It was a strange sensation to be flying but falling at the same time. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact into the water. His slim figure sliced through the water and plunged him deep into the depths. He came up gasping for air as his head broke the surface but he was quickly caught in the current the waterfall was making as it hit the water and was swept down river. Once again he had no control. He tried swimming, useless. He tried to grab onto anything that came his way, low hanging tree branches, logs, rocks, he could get a hold of nothing. He was slammed into a boulder that was lodged in the river, when he hit it knocked him unconscious and he slowly sunk under the water.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Japanese were stunned when he fell backwards off of the cliff. One of the soldiers actually had quick enough reflexes that he shot off a few rounds as he was falling backwards. He missed his target by a hair; one of his bullets actually went through the sleeve of Rockholt’s jacket. They all edged to look over the cliff and watched Rockholt hit the water. They shouted at him through their anger but none of them could do anything about it. They left him for dead, if they did not have the privilege of killing him the river would. In his weak state they were sure that he was dead.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Once again convulsions racked his body as he awakened on the bank of the river, his head was split open and blood was running down the right side of his face. Looking to the sky as he continued to spit up water he asked, “That was the best escape idea you had huh?” When he was up on that cliff he was fervently saying a prayer to himself for help of how to survive. And here he was, alive. He fell to the ground as he tried to stand up dry heaving again and again. He spat up blood he was dry heaving so hard. He had to keep going. He was not going to let his men down.
He was exhausted, he was beat up, he was barely alive, he fell to his knees. “Why?! Why are you putting me through this hell?!” He did not know who he was talking to. Himself? God? He did not even know if god was there, let alone himself. Was this all just a bad dream? Dropping to all fours he rocked back and forth, his body shaking from his deep sobs. It had been a long time since he had last let a tear fall, he could no longer hold it back. He was tired, hungry, and he just wanted to go home. He was done.
“What is the point if you give up now?” Jumping to his feet despite the pain it caused he asked, “Who is there?” “I have always been here Rockholt.” “How do you know my name? Where are you?” “I am all around you. I am the sun that has been shrouded out of your life; I am the moon you have looked to all these nights. I am with you.” “You? You who?” “Rockholt look deep inside yourself and you will find the answers.” “But I don’t know where to look!” As he said that he caught sight of a figure walking back into the jungle, this man was, was, incredible! He was unlike any other man Rockholt had ever seen. He was, perfect. That was the only word he could use to describe this man. Turning around to face Rockholt, “And yes, that is the best escape plan I had. You did not give me a lot of time to think of one when you asked for my help.” With that he was gone. Just like the two men he had seen running with him, gone. They were just gone.
He got up with some new found strength and pushed onward. Ever onward. Forward, he had to press forward. He eventually found a main road that ran on the other side of the bridge that was in front of him. Coming down the road was a truck with an American flag flying from the top of it. He had to flag down that truck! Sprinting across the bridge he felt it start to collapse. When he was not half way across planks started to fall out from behind him. Jumping holes in the bridge he ran, and the bridge was still collapsing around him. Just when he was about to fall into the ravine below he jumped
Superman style to the other side got up and managed to run into the road and stop the truck. A Japanese man jumped out of the truck pointing an AK-47 onto him. “You American?” “Yes, yes I am. I am an American,” replied Rockholt more aware of the gun. “Get in the back.” Rockholt jumped up in the back of the truck. He was not alone; there were three other people in the back of the truck with him. “Do you have any water?” He motioned his hands in a drinking motion to ensure that they understood what he was asking them. The youngest boy in the truck who was no more than seventeen handed Rockholt a Coke. “Thank you!” He unscrewed the cap and despite the burning of the carbonation he drank greedily. “Where are we going?” No one would answer him but again the boy spoke up and told him that they were heading to a town where Americans were, where they could be free.
When they pulled into the town a gun battle was taking place. A small army of Japanese foot soldiers with two tanks were tearing the town apart; the Americans there were all dead. Now only the locals were putting up a fight. The truck they were in was hit by an RPG on the right side causing it to flip to the left side and eject all the passengers; getting up Rockholt followed the boy into a building where they ran down two flights of stairs to get to the basement where refugees were camped out. “Papi look what we found. An American. I thought we could use him.” The boy’s father grabbed Rockholt by the collar that was somehow still intact with his uniform and put a gun to his cheek. “You will go out there and give them what they want. You are the American who escaped from the prison! They want you! You go out there and give yourself to them so that we may live!” With that a tank missile tore through the building and blew it apart.
Pushing his way out of the debris he was covered by Rockhot quickly formulated a plan.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

No one noticed him. He had just walked right out of the village passing Japanese soldiers on his way and no one gave him a second glance. He had pulled out a dead Japanese soldier that had been covered with him in the debris and stripped him of his uniform and ski mask. He then redressed the soldier in his uniform and another ski mask he had found. Rockholt put on the Japanese uniform along with a ski mask, and as soon as he had slipped the mask over his head a small scouting group of Japanese soldiers ran into the building. They walked up to him and asked him something in Japanese. All he could do was nod in agreement and wait to see if it was the right gesture. When the others nodded with him he let out a breath in a long sigh he had not realized he had been holding. The soldiers then grabbed the dead Japanese soldier that was dressed in Rockholt’s American uniform and drug him out into the streets where they were met with victorious shouts and gunfire. They all thought that they had killed the American that had been giving them grief all this time. They were wrong.
Turning Rockholt walked directly between the two tanks towards a convoy of trucks. His heart was racing at the very thought of what had just taken place. He just walked right out of that trap. He got to a truck and he just got in and turned it on, no one cared. He then saw the street signs and realized that the American Army was positioned only a few clicks from his position. He knew that because they had a strong hold there, that is where he needed to get to. He floored the truck and took off in that direction and that is when the Japanese figured out what was going on. As some took off in pursuit one in his frustrated state drew his sidearm and unloaded an entire clip into the body of the Japanese soldier which caused blood to splatter onto the faces of those encircling the body.
Racing towards his army Rockholt realized that the truck he was in had a Japanese flag tied to it and that he was in a Japanese uniform. This was going to be tricky. He leaned out the window of the truck and tore the flag off of it just as machine gun fire struck the windshield coming from a bunker up in the trees. He had made it. He had found his army, now he had to somehow show them that he was one of them. The truck came to an abrupt halt when it was hit by a mortar shell fired from the American bunker. He then dove into the back where he started to fire at the Japanese pursuing him with the .50 caliber machine gun that was mounted to the back. He was never hit. He knew that he was being shot at but he was never hit.
When all the pursuing enemies were dead the barrel of the machine gun Rockholt was using was smoking from overheating and he quit fighting to stay awake. He let the exhaustion come over him and fall from the truck to the ground. Looking up from his back he saw American soldiers come to stand over him. With a smile of knowing he had finally found what he was looking for, that he had finally made it back to a stronghold he passed out. The Americans were unsure of what to think. This man was dressed as a Japanese soldier but he looked like an American when they took of his mask and he had killed the pursuing Japanese. Who was this man?









































CHAPTER XIV

One cannot protect their identity when it has been taken away from them for so long. Rockholt had no identity on the outside world, for all they knew he was M.I.A. Command had lost contact with his team and no one knew where he had gone. He had just vanished. Now that this squad had rescued-captured him they were pondering what to do with him. His tags showed that he was Captain John Rockholt, but his uniform showed him to be a Japanese soldier. Could it be a hoax? Did they just save a man that was working with the Japanese army to infiltrate American bases and take them out one by one? They were not going to get any answers out of him if he died so they loaded him up in the back of a truck and pulled off the side of the road into the jungle so that they could build a fire and get him by it.
Soon enough they had a blaze going and pulled this stranger of a man near it and wrapped him up in a few blankets. He was pale as snow and his breathing was very shallow and rapid, as if being chased or if he was debating heavily. Rockholt was having his own personal war with himself inside of his mind. He was trying to decide if he should just give up now and die where he was laying, wherever that may be. Where he was laying though he felt warmth, he wanted to go near it but his mind would not let him move his body. He had come this far, he had narrowly cheated death multiple times in the past few days and was tired of running from it. But he had to keep going, the average runner runs until the breath in him is gone, but the champion has the iron will that makes him carry on. For rest the average runner begs, when limp his muscles grow. But the champion runs on tired legs his spirit makes him go. The average mans complacement when he has done his best to score. But the champion does his best and then a little more. Rockholt had done his best to cheat death and to find his allies, now it was time he did a little more.
Thrashing about from his internal war he knocked off all of the blankets that had been layed over him. A soldier by the name of Mctavish had the heart to get up from his resting place and cover Rockholt once again. He was not going to let this man die, he was going to do what ever could to keep him alive because something in his gut kept telling him that he knew him, that he was ok. And plus that scar of his seemed awful familiar, did he know this man? No, he had never met him before, but he was sure he had seen him somewhere, but where?
Rockholt could not take it! His mind was split into two, giving up and going on. He wanted to give into giving up, it would be so easy and it would allow him to be free from this worry and torment. No, he could not quit. He could not let Barta and Kenway just die in that retched place. He was going to live. As he was fighting his way to the side of not quitting, of not giving up, he was boosted by a poem he remembered reading as teenager when his first love broke his heart back in high school entitled Don’t Quit. It had helped him then and was helping him now.
When things go wrong as they sometimes will
When the road you are trudging seems all up hill
When the funds are low and the debts are high
When you want to smile but you have to sigh
When care is pressing you down a bit
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit
Life is quire with its twists and turns
As every one of us sometimes learns
And many a person turns about
When they might have won had they stuck it out
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow
You may succeed with another blow
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup
And he learned to late when the night came down
How close he was to the golden crown
Success is failure turned inside out
So stick to the fight when you are hardest hit
It is when things seem the worst that you must never quit

With that Rockholt sat up. All the soldiers scrambled to get their guns as they were startled by him just sitting up; the only soldier that did not grab his gun was Mctavish. “What is your name?” Mctavish asked Rockholt motioning for the others to lower their weapons. “Captain John Rockholt is my name.” Mctavish still could not pinpoint how he knew this man. The other men stood up and bound Rockholt’s hands and thrust him back down to the ground. “Who are you? You a traitor?” The other soldiers stood around him asking him these questions. Mctavish knew that they had to find out for sure who this man was before they could trust him, but his gut would not let him be.
Soon enough they let him be and went back to resting. They tossed Rockholt a few scraps of food and a bottle of water. “Thank you.” Rockholt was very gracious to the gesture of these delicate gifts. As he bit into a package of beef jerky the smell and taste flooded his senses. He let out a long sigh as he placed a small portion into his mouth and savored the flavor of it. The other men took notice and could not help but wonder what he had been through in order for him to love jerky like that? Unscrewing the cap on the bottle, which he was able to do because his hands although bound were still in front of him, he carefully lifted the bottle to his lips as to not spill a single drop and let some water trickle into his mouth, wonderful. He swished the water around in his mouth and let it slowly trickle down his throat. He ate every piece of jerky, even the small remnants that most would throw away and sucked the bottle dry.
Two soldiers, one of them being Mctavish hauled him to his feet and supported his frail figure as they walked to their truck to continue back to base. Rockholt had forgotten how comfortable car seats were since all he had for the past few months was a plank of wood to sleep on, and nothing else. The rest of the men piled into the car and Mctavish was the one who got into the back with Rockholt. He fell asleep as they started down the road slipping into a dream. In his dream he was back at the camp and he was standing outside of the building Ivan had tortured him in. He slowly opened the door and there in the middle of the room was a man sitting in the chair he had been bound to. Step by step he walked closer to this man and when he bent down and looked into the man’s face he was horrified to find his son strapped to the chair. “Dad, you came back for me,” Vincent said looking up and giving him a weak smile. “Of course I came back for you.” “Dad come home. Please come home.”
“RPG! Every one get down!” The driver of the truck yelled as he swerved the truck to miss the rocket propelled grenade. Bringing the truck to a skidding stop he jumped out of the truck and ran behind the truck for cover the front seat passenger following his lead. Mctavish threw open his door jumped out and ran around to the front of the truck where he jumped and slid across the hood opening fire with his rifle taking out a few enemies. He hit the ground running again to Rockholt’s door which he tore open, slung Rockholt across his shoulders and safely brought him to the back of the truck. “I can help you. Cut me loose and give me your sidearm,” Rockholt yelled to Mctavish above the noise of the returning gunfire. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won’t shoot me and my comrades? For all I know this could have been your set up.” “You don’t know any of that and you won’t until you give me your sidearm.”
Mctavish drew his knife with his right hand from its sheath on his left shoulder and swiftly cut the ropes around Rockholt’s wrists, he then handed him his .45 Colt along with two extra mags. “That’s it. Make every shot count.” Whirling around Mctavish laid suppressive fire upon the enemy unit that was just up the road. Rockholt stood up grasping the pistol with both hands and opened fire. He made every shot count. When it was all over Rockholt turned to Mctavish handing him his gun. “I understand that you still don’t know if you can trust me.” “Actually I can Captain John Rockholt.” It had finally come to Mctavish’s mind of where he knew this man. He was surprised that he did not recognize him when they first met by his scar. A few years ago he had come to his military base looking to recruit for his elite team, Delta 8. Mctavish had been one of the few candidates Rockholt had looked at. He remembered wondering how he had gotten his scar and was shocked that he did not remember that right away.
“Well I can’t trust him yet,” the driver told Mctavish as he bound Rockholt’s hands again. “Get back in the truck, we have to move.” Mctavish helped Rockholt back into the truck and took his own place in the back with him.
Shortly there after they arrived at the base and Rockholt was escorted under guard to a secluded room. The room was across the compound which gave everyone in the camp a good look at him. All of them looked at him with hatred; they thought he was a traitor who was working with the Japanese. One person actually came up to him and spat in his face. They confined him in the room for a few hours alone, which he was given a tray of food. Close to the end of four hours, in which he had dosed off, General Shepherd, the commanding officer of the base came into the room pulling up the other chair at the table. He then reached into his jacket pocket and drew out Rockholt’s dog tags and set them down on the table.











CHAPTER XV

“You’re supposed to be dead,” General Shepherd told Rockholt. “Sorry to disappoint you, General.” “Do not get smart with me boy. As far as we know you are a copy of Captain John Rockholt and your mission is to infiltrate American bases based on the knowledge that he gave you.” “Wrong General, I am Captain John Rockholt.” The General just stared, how would he be sure? There was a soft knock on the door and a young man handed the General a file and left. “This is how I will tell if you are lying to me. Your file just came through; I have all your information right here, everything.” Rockholt was relieved, finally he could prove to these clowns that he was who he said he was and get out of here. He had somewhere he needed to be.
“Before we start this little escapade of ours I am going to need a cup of coffee.” With that the General got up and walked out of the room leaving Rockholt to his thoughts. Any question they would ask him he could answer, he was Captain John Rockholt. Sitting there in that room Rockholt started to feel enclosed again. The walls were concrete, the chair was metal, all the things that had been present during his torture session with Ivan. He gripped the table so hard his knuckles turned white and he started to remember, to feel everything that Ivan had done to him. Eyes clenched shut he broke out into a sweat and screaming as he felt the knife cutting into the side of his neck, hearing Ivan laughing the entire time. He felt the heat of his own blood as it ran down his neck staining his shirt.
Panting he forced his eyes open and saw that he was still alone, he was still in the room, nothing had changed. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and sat back down, slowing his breathing, calming himself, just patiently waiting. “How am I alive? I should be dead, there is no possible explanation for how I survived all I did.” “When are you going to learn John?” Jumping up and knocking the chair over he backed up until his back against the wall. “Look at me; I am hearing voices again, these last few days have left me crazy.” “Not crazy John, they have just left you with questions. When you want them answered you know how to get in touch with me.”
Walking in and finding Rockholt backed against the wall the General told Rockholt to sit down. “Alright, if you are who you say you are then what is your birthday?” “February 25, 2010.” “What is your wife’s name?” “Jane.” “What is your son’s name?” “Vincent.” So far Rockholt had answered every question right, he knew he had because he was him. The General on the other hand was not convinced. “How tall is your son?” “That is a bull question General. I have not seen my son in over five months, he is ten, of course he will have grown in that time frame.” “Alright, what was your last mission before you went M.I.A? Only two people knew about that, your commander, and you.” “My last mission along with my team, Barta, Kenway, and Voss was to knock out the main communications bunker of the Japanese. Our team was selected because of the success we had in all of our previous missions. That is when Voss betrayed us and took up forces with the Japanese. He is the traitor here, not me. Because of him I spent almost three months in a hell hole of a concentration camp, Barta and Kenway are still there now and I have been on the run for the past few days trying to find help so that I can get them out of there.”
General Shepherd had placed a phone call to General Price, Rockholt’s commanding officer before he went M.I.A. Shepherd had told Price that he had a man that one of his units had picked up who was claiming to be Captain John Rockholt. Price had told Shepherd to ask him what his last mission was; Price gave the description of the mission to him and Rockholt had just matched that description perfectly. Looking up from the file he stared into Rockholt’s eyes. “Welcome back Captain.” Rockholt was getting worried that he was not going to hear those words. General Shepherd then called a meeting of the entire base and told them that Captain John Rockholt was alive. The soldier that had actually spat in his face walked up to him afterwards and apologized for his actions.
Rockholt was then escorted to the barracks where he was given his own private room and a new fresh uniform. Stripping off the Japanese uniform he had used to escape his wounds were exposed to him for the first time. Looking himself over in the mirror he looked terrible. This was the first time that he had truly had a good look at himself for the first time in almost three months. There had been no mirrors in the camp and he was to busy running for his life to care what he looked like. His beard had grown in thick, his eyes had dark circles under them, and his hair was tangled up and looked as though he had not washed it for three months. There were no showers in the camp; the rain was his only means of ‘showering’. His face was covered in mud and blood and he had lost a lot of weight. Pulling his shirt off he was shocked at the look of his torso. He could not tell if there was any part of it that was not an odd color. All his ribs were bruised, his chest was torn up and bruised, and his back had massive bruises all over it and was very tender to the touch. Now that he had time to rest the pain of it all was really starting to set in, he knew that he was going to be extremely sore in the morning. Dropping the cargo pants of the Japanese uniform he saw that his legs were in the same condition. He had cuts all over his legs and he had bruises that created a ring around his thighs. His calves actually did not look terrible because of all the running he had done in the past few days.
He studied himself in the mirror and could see that he was not the man he used to be; he had seen things that left a mark on a man. He turned on the shower and let the room fill up with steam in order to breathe it in to help clear his senses. He then stepped into the shower letting the hot water pour over his tire body. He could feel his tight tired muscles slowly starting to unwind and relax. He washed off all of the blood and dirt that had caked onto his skin over the past few months, as he washed the water turned a black as it ran down the drain. Rockholt felt as though he was washing any evil off of him watching the blackened water disappear. He stayed in the shower for over an hour after he had washed himself thoroughly clean of the filthiness that had been a plague to him just relaxing and taking time to breath normally again. He knew that he had to save Barta and Kenway but he felt no guilt in getting clean and finding himself again.
He eventually shut off the water and stepped out grabbing a towel and carefully drying himself as to not aggravate his nasty bruises. He took another look in the mirror and started to see himself again. He shaved and performed his own hair cut which he was rather proud of. He just took the clippers and buzzed his hair off. Taking a step back he once again studied himself.
“There you are Captain John Rockholt.”
He stepped out of the washroom and preceded down the corridor is bare feet making soft noises as he walked. He stepped in and locked the door behind him. For a brief moment he felt nothing: no fear, no hatred, no discomfort, no dread, no worry, nothing. Then reality set in. Opening his eyes he got up and walked over to the window of his room.
“I have a promise to keep to you Ivan. And Voss, you are next.” He turned and walked back to his bed. He reached underneath his pillow and pulled out the pistol he had taken from the armory here. He checked the mag and placed it back under his pillow. He was not going to take any chances. He was going to get his men out of there alive, and he had a son that wanted him home.
He awoke in the middle of a night from a crazy dream. It was not a haunting dream that he had become so used to, it was a dream of Jane. One wish was granted to him in his dream. He did not ask for money, he did not ask for a mansion, he just wished for one more day with her. He just wanted more time, one more sunset with her and he would be satisfied. He softly started to cry, swinging his legs out of the bed. He wanted to hold her in his arms and say a million ‘I love you’s’, that is what he would do with one more day with her. He had to get home; he had to have one more day, one more sunset, just one more time with Jane.
The cool thing was he did not go to that restaurant looking for love. But he will always remember that sunset when they walked out together. All he could think about that night was her silhouette in the purple and reds. When she got in her car and drove away, that image was burned into his mind for a million years, he longed for her. She didn’t come looking for love, but they found it. Now, he had to find his love. He had to get home.
But first, he had a mission to complete.























CHAPTER XVI

You have to take care of yourself before you can help anyone else. Sitting in the doctor’s office to be checked out Rockholt was not only ready to be out of the office, the more time he sat around the closer Barta and Kenway got to death. He felt fine, but he knew that he was in bad shape. He had hardly eaten anything the night before, one being he could not keep it down and two he was nervous. He may be free but he had men to free. He was not able to stroll down the street without any worry; he needed to get out of here.
The door opened breaking his concentration, a young nurse walked in. “I need to take a blood sample sir.” Rockholt held up his left arm so the nurse could swab it with alcohol and find his vein. Because of the weight he had lost she had trouble finding a vein, it took her three tries sticking him with the needle to get it into his vein. Finishing up she told him that the doctor would be in shortly.
Once again Rockholt was back to waiting. He had debriefed General Shepherd on the entire situation and tried to leave at that moment to go get his men. General Shepherd would not hear of him leaving so soon, he was going to make sure that Rockholt received a full evaluation by the medical professional on base.
“Sorry about that wait. I am Dr. Norwood.” Finally the doctor had shown up. “Alright doc, I need clearance now.” “Sorry captain, I have orders to do a full evaluation, and by the looks of it you need it,” he said pointing to Rockholt’s torso. “These are just battle wounds, they are nothing.” “Captain, just by looking at you I can see that you have a few fractured ribs and need extensive care for a few weeks.” Rockholt looked up into the doctor’s face. “You have never seen war have you?” “I have seen the effects of war, as I see the effects on you.” “But you have not watched your men die. You have not seen the destruction and pain it brings. I have seen things you only dream of as you sit in your office safe from the world.” “Captain I have my orders.” “And I have men to save,” Rockholt said cutting Dr. Norwood off in mid-sentence. “You only take liberty for granted because you have never had it taken away from you.”
Taking a long breath the doctor took a seat next to Rockholt. “No I have not lost my liberty captain, but I have seen people die. I have watched young men come through here all shot up and there is nothing we can do for them. I watched my younger brother die. He was a quick and sharp soldier much like you. He told me to patch him up and send him out again. He left this camp in a casket captain, I have seen war; I saw it in my brother’s eyes.” “I am sorry,” Rockholt humbly said. “I know you want to free your men but you are not going to be any help to them if you leave this camp in a casket.” From then on Rockholt did not put up a fight with Dr. Norwood; he knew he was right, but at the time he did not want to admit it.
Looking at his x-rays and MRI scan Dr. Norwood told Rockholt that any other man would have died. Rockholt had three broken ribs and luckily just really bad bruising. But the doctor was amazed that Rockholt had been able to push through and evade as he did. For just that morning when Rockholt tried to sit up in bed he could not do it. He had to slowly inch his way into sitting up because it hurt so bad to move. When he was able to sit up he swung his legs over the edge of the bed stretching to loosen up. As he raised his arms over his head and arched his back every joint popped. It sounded like a hail of fireworks. When he stood up his hips, knees, and ankles all popped causing him to collapse onto the floor where he laid for a few minutes letting his strength come back.
Before the doctor would let him leave his office he had to get a series of shots. Walking out of the office his arms were more sore than before. When he came out of the office he took a jog around the base. At first he was extremely stiff and it hurt to run but soon enough his body loosened up and he continued on his way. He kept a slow pace and was breathing deeply of the fresh morning air when he saw Mctavish walking. He jogged over to him and asked him if he could join him. “Mctavish,” Rockholt started. “I just wanted to say thank you.” Mctavish started to laugh, “Captain I should be thanking you. We treated you like scum and you still helped us.” “Brothers in Arms always look out for each other.” “Is that why you are going back?” Stopping Rockholt looked to the sky, not saying anything for a minute. “Yes, that is why I am going back. My men stood by me through everything. Not once did they leave me to fend for myself. I owe them my life and if that is what it takes I am going to get them out of that camp.” “Why did you offer to help us captain? When were hit by that Japanese patrol unit.” “I knew that I could help you and your team Mctavish, but it was more than that. I felt guilt that I was unable to save my men when we were hit with an ambush.” “Captain, it was not your fault. You may be a crack shot but you alone could not alter what happened.” Rockholt turned and looked Mctavish in the eyes, “but I can do something about it now.”
“If it is revenge you are seeking you had better dig two graves first,” Mctavish called out to Rockholt as he was walking away. That thought struck Rockholt. He had to stop and ask himself if revenge was what he was truly after and not saving his men. Rockholt found himself standing by the fence looking out. “Am I looking to kill or am I looking to be a savior? That is the question.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You told me Rockholt was dead Ivan,” Voss jabbed. “And now he is out running loose. He could be leading an army to come shut down our entire operation.” “You don’t think I have thought of that you intrepid fool?” “I put too much on the line for this to fall through Ivan.” Grabbing Voss and pushing him to the wall, “don’t think you’re the only one who has made sacrifices.” He let go of Voss and walked back out into the camp.
Voss, even after months of not seeing Rockholt could not shake the feeling that he was coming back for him; and now he just found out that he was alive.
Ever since that night he heard Rockholt tell him he was coming back for him he had been sleeping with a gun under his pillow. He should have killed him when he had the chance, but Ivan wanted to have his fun with him.
Back outside Ivan walked back to the building where he had tortured Rockholt. “How could this have happened?!” Ivan kicked over the chair in the room and stood there fuming, his heavy shoulders moving up and down with each breath. Then he got a glint in his eye that showed he had a spark of intuition. He knew Rockholt, he would never leave his men for the wolves without putting up a fight for them; he was coming back. He was going to be ready, once again he was going to have Rockholt in his grasp and he was not going to lose him this time. He was going to give him a mark that would never heal; he was going to put a bullet in him. One bullet, he was just going to use one bullet to make his point. Drawing his pistol from his hip holster he went back outside and started to fire at different targets making sure his aim was true. Ivan was out for revenge, he made it his personal vendetta to kill Captain John Rockholt and he would be talking while he did it so Rockholt could see that he failed to keep his promise.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rockholt was preparing to enter hell and Ivan was preparing to defend hell. Each had their reasoning of why they were doing what they were, and each saw it as right. Rockholt wanted to bring freedom to the land and people, Ivan wanted to destroy and rule. He saw that power was to conquer to be a ruler of the land. Rockholt did not want that to happen. Rockholt had made Ivan a promise and intended to keep it but was not seeking revenge.
What they didn’t know, each man was hunting his brother. Rockholt was hunting Ivan; Ivan was hunting Rockholt. Each brother became the hunted while the other became the hunted.
Rockholt did not know that before he was born his father had taken a trip to Japan where he had cheated on his wife with a Japanese woman he had met, that is why Ivan looked Japanese and Rockholt was pure American. They were born days apart from each other but no one knew they each had a brother except their father. There father had died with that secret so both of them thought they were hunting an enemy when in reality they were hunting family. War is a unique situation, tearing people apart but bringing Brothers in Arms together.
Rockholt and Ivan were brothers by blood but enemies by war.























CHAPTER XVII

Rockholt had now been on the base for three weeks recovering and gaining his strength back. He had put back on some weight because the anti-biotic he had been put on was kicking and destroying the sickness in him so he was able to eat normally again. He woke up one morning and felt as though he had not eaten for days. Everything had finally caught up to him from his adventure of escaping. He headed to the mess hall where he prepared himself a feast on his plate. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits, fruit, juice, the cook had prepared a special meal that day in honor of his return and he was taking full pledge on it. He was the first one there and the last one to leave, he ate the entire time. Between bites he would make small talk with other people sitting near him but was too engulfed in his food in order to steadily hold a conversation.
He spent time in the gym every day to work his muscles back into movement and to put some back on. Three weeks was not sufficient time in order to gain everything back but it gave him time to heal. He did light resistance weights to strengthen his body, which is all he needed was the strength to save his men. After all this was over he would get back onto a regular schedule and bulk up again.
While on the base he became good friends with Mctavish and started to incorporate him in his plans of going back. He was a good soldier and would be even a better asset in overrunning the camp that his men were being held at. His fear now was that they were dead or they had been moved to a different camp. But Rockholt knew Ivan, he was waiting for him to come back, he could feel it. Just as he could feel his scar he felt that he had some kind of connection with Ivan but he could never figure it out. It felt as though he was not near, but that he was near. That they shared something, besides the hatred they had for each other and the war but something that ran deeper, something that ran in each of them.
Rockholt was sure that with the help of Mctavish and hopefully others he was going to talk to that they would be able to liberate the camp and give freedom to hundreds of others along with Barta and Kenway. He had liberated camps before with success and no casualties on his side, but this time was different. This time it was personal, he knew that he should not look at it that way but instead as just another mission but he could not. The moment that Voss betrayed them it became personal and then Ivan got involved. It was a personal feud he had to take care of, not revenge. Mctavaish was right; if he sought out revenge he would find it and would be digging two graves. The only two graves he intended on digging were for Ivan and Voss, but he was certain that he was not seeking revenge, or was he?
After speaking with Mctavish, Rockholt had to speak to General Shepherd since he was the commanding officer he was under now. He stopped outside of his office and took a deep breath clearing his head, but was unable to of the horrors he had seen. He lifted his fist and knocked. “Come.” Resting his hand on the door knob he slowly opened the door and took three steps in and shut the door behind him. “I know why you are here captain.” “You do sir?” “Captain the talk is all over the camp. You have recruited Mctavish to help you with your vendetta and are seeking to put together a team.” “General, sir, Mctavish volunteered on his own accord, and yes I was hoping to talk to the other men on this base and ask for their help. I never intended to recruit and build a team, just find some temporary help.” “Captain these men do not take orders from you, they take orders from me.” The General then leaned back in his chair and lit up a cigar. “Why do you think I am here sir?” Standing up and pulling his cigar out of his mouth in order to speak very clearly, “do not get smart with me captain. It is because of me that you are here, I could have kicked you back out into the jungle and left you there.” Never leaving his foot stance and never averting his eyes from the general’s, “I know we do not see eye to eye on certain things sir,” figuring the general was three inches shorter than Rockholt, “but there are more lives at stake than just those of my men.” “Captain you are restricted from the help of any man on this base. You are not restricted of staying or going but the other men are, and that goes for Mctavish as well. You have access to the artillery bunker and you have access to one mode of transportation, nothing more.” With that the general sat back down, stuck his cigar back in his mouth and returned to his paper work. Rockholt turned on his heel sharply and started to walk out when something caught his attention on the wall to his left. It was a picture of General Shepherd and three other men, captioned below “Delta 3”, the general had been part of a Delta elite strike force. Next to that was an award, a military decoration, it was the Purple Heart. “You know General,” Rockholt said to get the general’s attention and pointed to his award as the general looked up, “This award stood for something,” Rockholt finished and walked out of the office.
Mctavish was there to meet Rockholt outside of the office, “So, am I coming with you captain?” Rockholt put a hand onto Mctavish’s right shoulder. “Sorry son, I am walking this road alone, this is my battle.” Patting his shoulder Rockholt walked off with Mctavish looking after him. Running after Rockholt, Mctavish caught up to him and walked stride for stride with him. “If I cannot come with you captain, I can help you prepare.” Rockholt lowered his head with a crooked smile on his face; Mctavish reminded him a lot of himself.
They walked across the compound to the artillery bunker where Rockholt gave the guard there the signed release form from General Shepherd that granted him access. They walked down two flights of stairs which led to a huge open room with racks and shelves lining the room full of equipment. Ammunition, any gun he wanted, grenades, supplies, gadgets were amongst the few things at Rockholt's disposal. He walked over to a cage of guns and pulled off the rack a hefty looking gun. Racking it into his shoulder he looked down the sights, he liked it. He grabbed a vest and began to fill the pockets with extra mags, frag grenades, flash bang grenades, zip ties, and other supplies. He grabbed a backpack and filled it with supplies; he did not know how long he would be gone so he grabbed some freezed dried food and bottles of water. Along with the machine gun he grabbed and holstered a 9mm pistol and a .50 Caliber suppressed sniper rifle which he slung across his back. He was a walking militia, he was ready.
Walking out of the bunker he headed north to the garage where he picked up the keys and got into one of the trucks there. He placed his guns and gear on the seat next to him within reach incase he ran into some company. He looked into the rear view mirror and began to paint his face camo style, he then rested his hands on the steering wheel and prepared himself for the burden he was about to put on himself. “You ok there captain?” Mctavish was leaning on the truck talking to him through the open passenger side window. “I am scared,” Rockholt said staring out the windshield. “It means you are human captain.” With that Rockholt started up the truck and slowly pulled out of the garage, he looked in his mirror expecting to see Mctavish standing there but he was no where to be seen. Shrugging he continued out of the base and onto the jungle road. Since he had escaped the camp on foot and stayed off of the roads he knew it would be difficult for him to find his way back, but he had a general idea of what direction to head in. He also felt as though he was being guided back, he felt as though Ivan was calling him back, taunting him. But he also felt the pain Barta and Kenway had suffered since his escape, he felt as though they were slowly slipping into an abyss so dark and deep that they were giving up hope. He raced down the road driving as though he had nothing to live for, or that he had everything to fight for.
Driving along he began to wonder of how he was going to get back into the base and once he got in he had to get out. He wanted to not only free his men but everyone in that camp was waiting on him, everyone in that camp he wanted to grant the gift of freedom and liberty to.
Dreams are the gateway to finding the reality, and holding it tight to find that it is real and not a dream. But by dreaming we open our minds and find reality. Rockholt was searching for an alternate reality of where this all was just a dream. He was wishing himself to wake up at home in bed with Jane peacefully sleeping next to him. Try as he may he was still in the truck driving to his certain death.
This was his reality.



























CHAPTER XVIII

Adventure is not limited to outside of a man. The greatest battles and most invigorating adventures happen within a man. War is an adventure that takes place outside of a man but he has to live with himself during the war. A man can be his own best friend for his own worse enemy. During war a man has to live with the destruction he brings to a land and has to decide for himself why his is fighting.
Man was created to live, not just to exist. Barta and Kenway were existing; they were clinging to the rung of life rigorously but not making any gain. They were alive but nearing the brink of collapsing and becoming one with the dust. To get up every morning required strength they did not have. Pushed day in and day out, working, sweating, their hands were callused and tough but stayed continuously raw from gripping different tools all day. They guards never gave them a day off; the only rest they received was the few hours of sleep they got at night, if they were able to close their eyes and sleep. More often than not they would close their eyes and see nothing. They would feel nothing and would get no sleep, instead they would feel nothing and would get no sleep, and instead they would stare at the backs of their eyelids.
They had not felt the emotional sensation of being free in months and more than ever it was taking an affect on their faith and hope of being rescued. Barta and Kenway were struggling to keep their battered and abused minds intact. They knew how easy it would be to succumb to Ivan and his brutality. They saw that death was a one way ticket out, but life was the two way ticket out. Life granted them access to freedom but the wait was long. Death was instant freedom, but what was on the other side? They could not control when they went with death or what would happen to them, but by choosing life and fighting to hold on they had some control. Who ever told them that life was easy they were wrong, they lied; the war had consumed their lives and redefined them as men.
Kenway and Barta had been questioned and tortured by Ivan after Rockholt had escaped multiple times each. Ivan had brutally beaten both men as he had Rockholt to get information from them concerning his escape, but they both kept their mouths shut. Something Ivan needed to learn. The only thing they opened their mouths for was to spit out blood and to insult Ivan which just made him more angry and brutal. But that is exactly what Kenway and Barta wanted to happen, they wanted Ivan to get angry and drop his guard so they could invade his head and take control. They knew that if they could bug Ivan to the point when he lost it and let loose on them, they would win. Getting into the mind of their enemy they could create their own form of torture and drive him insane. Cracking Ivan’s mind open would allow them to prepare for the day that Rockholt came back for them. That is, if he ever did come back for them. Kenway and Barta had been keeping track of how many days had gone by sine Rockholt had escaped through carving notches into their wooden bed slats with a bullet casing Barta had found in the dirt.
Kenway looked at Barta as he added another notch to the collection, twenty-notches now. Rockholt had officially been gone now for three weeks. Kenway dropped his head into his hands which muffled his saddened voice, “Think he forgot about us?” Barta could only stare off into space, he could not force himself to look into Kenway’s eyes because he was feeling the same, and it seemed they had been forgotten by their captain who promised to return for them. But he kept seeing the look he gave him when they were first captured. The look of ‘you will live to fly,’ everywhere he looked, every face he saw he could see Rockholt giving him that look. But he was still struggling to hold onto his faith in Rockholt. He trusted him without a doubt, but he was free, there was no reason for him to come running back guns blazing and free them from this place, or at least die trying. Rockholt being not only the great captain he was but also the great man showed that he had the character and courage to keep his word, but there was always that alternate reality that he kept slipping into where he and Kenway were going to die while caged up as wild beasts. There spirits were fighting to be free and their bodies were trying to stay alive. If they were dead and Rockholt did come back everything they themselves fought for would be forgotten history. They were not fighting there way into the history books that would be written in twenty years, they were fighting for those history books to be written in twenty years.
One thing that a man cannot lose no matter the war or the day of life is his word. Any man has the ability to stand up and say his word, actions may speak louder than words but words linger longer than actions. Words are used to write action, actions are not used to write words. A man can stand anywhere and speak his mind in the form of words, words ring off of the mountain hills and bring chills to a man’s heart. Actions have to be witnessed and remembered, Barta and Kenway were waiting for Rockholt to take action but they were also waiting for him to keep true to his word.
In waiting for words to result in action, in fighting death and its army, they had to fight despair and depression. They had to show that they were depressed to keep Ivan thinking he was winning and that he was starting to take effect on them, but they had to keep it an act. The stage must not remain empty, but their hearts had to remain full. Barta and Kenway knew that if they let their hearts fail, even for one day, they were done. Physically if they gave up they had seen what happens, they had witnessed all too often what happened to people when they gave up. Every day was a constant struggle, every morning they had to remind themselves to breathe, every morning they had to remind themselves to live. No normal man should have to remind themselves to wake up and live the day through, but Barta and Kenway were not normal men anymore, they were prisoners of war. That title made them property of the Japanese army.
Time had become death unto them; time was all it took for them do die, for them to give up. Barta through his hands up in frustration and turned to Kenway. “He is coming back for us you hear? Look at us Kenway, we are sitting here having our own little pity party when Rockholt went through who knows what to get out of here. He could be dying alone in some ditch because he tried to save us. But I have a feeling that he is alive, I have a feeling that he is coming back, and we are going to go home.” Kenway lifted his head out of his hands with a blank stare. “How do you know he is coming back? I want to believe that as well, but how do you know?” “I don’t. I don’t know if he is coming back or not, I guess that is where we just have to trust that our captain will stay true to his word and do whatever it takes to get back here and free us.” “That is where I struggle. It’s so easy for you Barta to believe and trust of what you cannot see, I struggle with that. I do not know if I can believe that Rockholt is coming back, I trust him, but when I way I trust him with my life; we are trusting him with out lives right now. He is the only one on the outside that knows we are here, our lives are in his hands.” Kenway returned his head back into his hands and sighed. Barta walked over and sat down on the bed next to Kenway. “I struggle with it to. I have to remind myself every day that there is more to fight for than just myself. I am worried to that we are going to die here, but we have fought alongside Rockholt. You remember the mission we had where we got pinned down by sniper fire on that mountain side?” “Ya, Rockholt risked being shot to draw the fire towards him so we could move into a safe position.” “We may not be getting shot at right now but we are not in a safe position. I may not see it, I may not know where Rockholt is, but I believe he is risking his life again to get us out of this position.”
Sometimes, sometimes the place that you always knew is different from the place that you always loved. With memories fading, winds changing the steady place, your refuge, your life all evading. Escaping the place you always knew, the place you will always love. Sometimes knowing and loving can be the place you always knew, but have forgotten how to love.
The life they left to enter the war and the life they were fighting for was slipping from them. They were forgetting. They were praying that they themselves had not been forgotten. That is how desperate they had become; they were praying and did not know why they were praying. All they could see is that god was to busy to help them, but what they could not see is the help he was giving them.





























CHAPTER XIX

July 4, 2040
“The war has been raging for five years now and I have been caught in the middle of it. I have watched men, women, and children all die and scream for god. All this time I do not know why they were asking god to save them when they were dying; I have not seen one person by saved by god that asked for his help. I have only seen soldiers save those who are in turmoil, I cannot help but feel that I have been saved, that I should be dead but here I stand, alive, writing this entry.”
Rockholt had arrived back at the camp early the next morning; he had driven for ten hours to find it again, but also because of the distance. As he back tracked to the camp he was amazed with himself that he had come that far on foot in such a short amount of time and lived. Now he was worried that he had come this far and was not going to live to walk that broken road once more. The truck had run out of gas by the time he came to the mountains that surrounded the valley in which the camp was in so he ditched it and trekked up around the camp in order to have a better view and plan his entrance and escape routes. That is when he pulled out his worn journal that he had been keeping the past few weeks, ever since his escape, to get thoughts out of his head and also so the world one day may know his story. This is when the pen becomes mightier than the sword.
“When I came upon the camp once more the sun had not risen yet but I could see clearly of everything that was taking place. I had been a part of that life for so long that I know the routine; I know nothing down there has changed since I escaped. Even light cannot reach the darkest corners, only those with the courage and drive can reach those corners and pull the wandering souls out of the never ending darkness. That is my objective, to reach farther than I ever have, to fight my way back into hell and bring others unto salvation. I wonder if my men are amongst the living, or counted amongst the dead, I wonder if they know I am coming or if they have given up hope. I am David with my sling and stones, Ivan is Goliath who guards this camp with an army who with one swipe can detach my head from the rest of my body. If I am going to win this battle and free my men which will allow me to be free, I am going to have to make a sacrifice greater than I ever have before.”
Rockholt closed his journal and placed it back into his pack. The sun had been up for some time now and he was seeking refuge under a low hanging cliff which also from his position he had a perfect view of the camp below and had his sniper set up on the camp in order to watch and learn. Camouflaged he was able to move freely but was careful not to give away his position.
Once again Rockholt found himself on his knees. He was not sure how he had gotten there, he was never sure, but felt that he had a need to be on his knees, that he had a lesson to learn, and the only way to learn was by being on his knees. He respectively bowed his head and did not say a word. He just knelt in the dust with the sun beating down on him and thought about life and from his searching of life he found that he was not alone. That was the lesson he learned.
A noise behind him caused him to roll to his right and train his suppressed machine gun in the direction of the disturbance. He was ready to fire and kill at any moment, whoever or whatever was coming his way was either just plain stupid or had a death wish. He aimed, he put his finger on the trigger and Mctavish walked through the bushes and stopped when he saw he was about to be shot. “I swear Mctavish, you do that again and I will shoot you.” Rockholt sat up and placed his gun back into a position of easy reach in case he needed it. “What in the heck are you doing here anyways? I about shot you!” “Captain I can help you.” “I don’t doubt that but you had orders to stay on base.” “But I did not have orders to stay out of the back of the truck,” Mctavish said with a sly smile forming across his face. Mctavish pulled out his own suppressed .50 Caliber sniper rifle and set his up next to Rockholt’s, he then pulled off his pack and set up his own spot. “I should order you to turn around and go back, but it looks like you came prepared.” “Dang straight I came prepared captain! Like you said, ‘you don’t leave Brothers in Arms hangin, you fight side by side.”’ Rockholt could not help but smile, this kid was so much like him, and he could not help but see the resemblance in his actions. He would have probably done the same thing he did to help his fellow brother. Knowing he would do the same thing he could not sent Mctavish hiking back to the base. But he had to give him a choice, “Mctavish, there is a risk involved with this mission, more so than others. I plan on putting you in harms way, you will be in danger and you may not come back from this. You willing to do that for men you don’t know?” Mctavish stared Rockholt dead in the eyes, he then clapped him on the shoulder. “I am staying captain. No one had to fight their battles alone, and no one should have to. I am not going to let you walk this road alone. God bless the broken road, we are going to need it.”
Mctavish began checking his guns and preparing to move out. As he himself was painting his face camo style Rockholt watched and wondered. “I don’t even know your first name. All this time you have just been Mctavish to me.” Finishing up painting his face Mctavish stood up, wiped his hand off on his pants and held out his right hand. “My name Captain John Rockholt is Vincent Mctavish.” Rockholt took his hand, “Nice to meet you Vincent.” They now knew each other officially by name, but knew each other from the time they had spent together on base. Mctavish was the one who truly helped Rockholt heal. He would get him into the gym and help him to work out, he ran with him in the mornings sometimes, he got him out to play basketball, but most of all he helped to heal wounds that ran deeper. He helped Rockholt to forgive himself, he helped him to see that it was not his fault that all men are human no matter how they try not to be. Many a nights Mctavish would stay up talking to Rockholt, helpling him to find himself again. Mctavish did not know everything that had happened to him, and if he was going to know everything that had happened to him he would let Rockholt tell him on his terms. He brought him back from the brink of sever depression and taught him the truth; that life is worth living. No matter what some say life will always be worth living because you never know what the day holds until you live it.
“My son’s name is Vincent. I gave him that name so people would always remember him. He is going to be one heck of a man when he grows up; right now he is a great kid. He is my little partner, and he always will be.” Rockholt had to wipe a tear out of his eye before it smeared his paint and Mctavish would take notice. “He knows you love him.” “What?” “Your son, he knows that you love him. I followed my dad everywhere when I was a kid because I wanted to be just like him, I wanted to do everything he did.” “That is how Vincent, my son, is. Before I was shipped out again my son prayed, he told me that he learned how from me, but I don’t know how. Seeing him pray made me stop and think about life and how much I love him.” “You know captain, you can always pray. There is no set way to pray; you just talk to god.” “Ha, god does not have time for me Mctavish.” Mctavish had been waiting for this moment, he had actually hoped that this would come up at some point so he could help Rockholt see the truth. “I met a lot of people like you on my mission.” “What mission?” Mctavish had struck a nerve of curiosity in Rockholt. “Before I joined the military I served a two year LDS mission to Japan.” “Wait, you have been here before?” “Yes, I came to Japan by the will of god and I shared his message with everyone I could.” “But these people are,” “No different than you and I captain, just a different uniform.” Rockholt did not understand, Mctavish actually liked the Japanese. “So, what was this message of yours?” “Not my message, it is the message from god; I am just the tool he uses to spread it.” “Alright then, what is this message that is supposedly from god?” “That his son Jesus Christ lives, that we can all pray to him no matter the time of day and he will hear us and come to our aid.” “How do you know? How do you know that he listens?” “Because he has answered me back. God works in mysterious ways captain, we just have to look and watch.” “Either way god is to busy for me, he has no time for me.”
Silence filled the air as Mctavish thought about that and how many times he had felt god near; so near in fact he could feel his presence walking stride for stride with him. “If god had time for me, my men would not be down there right now, if god had time this war would not be killing everyone off right now.” “Captain I can only tell you so much, I don’t have all the answers. But I know someone who does and has been waiting for you to come talk to him.” “How? How do I talk to him? And how do I know he is listening?” “You know that feeling you have right now?” Rockholt could not deny it; he was feeling rather calm and was feeling how he did when he went to that Mormon Church. “That is how you know he is listening, he just tells you. Oh and you just talk to him, you say whatever is on your mind and have a heart to heart conversation. Captain I am not here to change your mind and preach to you, but I do want to share my happiness with you. I can talk to you until I am blue in the face and it would do no good. That is why I want to tell you what I believe and know to be true.” Rockholt nodded for him to continue. He was listening more out of friendship than anything, but he was curious.
“I know that god lives, and I know that he lives amongst us. I know that he is there and he is as close to us as we welcome him to be. I know that god is there, I know that he listens because he has talked back. I was once unsure about all of this myself, but then I decided to do something about it; I asked. I asked god myself if it was true.” “And what was your answer?” Mctavish looked up into Rockholt’s eyes, and when he did that feeling came back stronger than ever. “That answer my friend is for each man to find himself.”








CHAPTER XX

Happiness is a tangible manifestation or a crazy hallucination. Happiness can take many different shapes and forms as each person reaches a weak hand out towards it. A journey to find happiness never ends, because there is no end. A man searching for happiness will come to find the things that make him happy.
The search for god has been going on ever since the beginning of time. Some claim to have found him, others disregard him, Rockholt was on that journey, he was looking for answers. Back on his knees with Mctavish next to him he was seeking those answers in a way that was foreign to him. He had prayed, but he had not discussed. He figured if he had the chance of meeting his creator he had better get to know him and seek the answers that had eluded him for all of this time. Rockholt’s search for answers was like the sun and the moon; each one ruled the sky at different times.
It was a struggle between his heart and his mind. One would find an answer and he would desperately cling to that but then the other would find something else and he would cling to that. He did not have the strength to cling to both so he had to find a median of the two. He had to bring his heart and his mind together to be fused so he may live his life in peace. He was being pounded from many different directions that he could not choose a path to follow, he was lost and confused.
He felt foolish kneeling next to Mctavish, next to a man that claimed to know god. He could believe that all he wanted but Rockholt was still convinced that god did not have time for him, even if he was there. He was convinced that he did not care about him because of the things that had happened to him. He found god in many other things, his wife, his family, hobbies, those became his support and strength when he felt that god had abandoned him during this war. So many times did he need him; so many times he did not find him. He could only seen one set of footprints walking in the sand, he was alone in spirit but not alone in body. He had Mctavish, Barta, and Kenway all looking out for him, he had them as brothers. But he wanted to know, he wanted to know why god had abandoned him?
Sitting up here in the heat of the afternoon with Mctavish, staking out the camp below he had nothing to do but think. He let his mind wander and debate, he wanted to know about life.
He opened his eyes and could see that Mctavish was staring intently off into the distance. “What you thinking there?” Slowly Mctavish dropped his hands but continued to stare down at the camp. “What was it like down there?” Memories flooded Rockholt’s mind of being in that camp. Memories of being tortured, his scar burned, memories of watching innocent bystanders be killed, and memories of the little boy he had killed. “It was not like anything else down there. I....I watched people die everyday from sickness, they gave up, or they were murdered in cold blood. There was nothing I could have done in there, I was useless, powerless. They teach you that you have nothing left to live for. I would get up every morning and wonder if it was the day I was going to die and be buried in some ditch that I had dug the previous day. I watched god leave all of us, I watched as the life slowly leaked out from people’s eyes, I watched everything. I waited for someone to come, but no one ever did. That is why I am back here, to give hope to those individuals down there. They all have something they are fighting for, some just don’t know it yet, but they are all warriors at hear because they choose to live. The ones who give up and die are the real cowards, because they were afraid to live life to its fullest potential. Not me, I am living, I am going to make a difference in this world. If god wants to join me, I am not going to stop him.” “But are you going to welcome him?”
That stunned Rockholt, he had never thought about that. Was that the reason god had abandoned him? Because he did not welcome him freely into his life. “God did not abandon you. It was you who abandoned him.” Rockholt’s mind was whirling in circles, what was the truth? How could he abandon god, he thought he was all powerful? That is what he had been told in that Mormon Church and for some reason he kind of believed that. “The moment you gave up on god is the moment you abandoned him. He respected your wish and has silently been standing on the sidelines giving you gentle nudges now and then to alert you that he is still spectating and he wants to be in the game.”
Was Mctavish right? “But I have never known if god is there, all my life I have not known if he is there.” “But you have, look back on your life and investigate all of the times the impossible became possible. When nothing stood in your way and you were free to roam as you wanted, when you were alone but felt comfort, when you were sad but had to be glad for a reason you could not explain. God had a part in all of those but stayed hidden so you would be able to figure it out for your own good.”
“But why must he let us find it out? Why not give us the answers and make life so much easier?” “Because he never intended life to be easy. If life was easy and you had all the answers, you knew what was going to happen exactly everyday, would you live it?” Rockholt had never been asked that question before; he had never been asked any of these questions before. “No, I would not live it.” “Why?” “Because it would be too simple, there would be nothing to live for. Nothing would be new or exciting, nothing would bring joy anymore because you would know ahead what would be joyous and what would be disastrous.” “God did not intend for life to just be endured, he also intended for it to be lived. That is why it is called life.”
Things were becoming clearer to Rockholt now, doors were opened and he began to see a whole other side of his life. He had endured life in that camp and now that he was out he was going to live his life with his fellow brothers by his side living there lives. “Mctavish you are one of a kind, you know that?” “It would be boring if I was a double,” Mctavish winked at Rockholt.
“What I went through no other man deserves to go through. I was redefined as a man from that camp; I felt that I had everything stripped from me. I had no contact to the outside world; I had my men as my only support. But I am starting to see that maybe I did have more support than I realized.”
When a man dies and they are put six feet under the ground a dash between the dates they lived is put on their tombstone. Often that dash is forgotten and disregarded because of the purpose many thinks it serves. Many people see it has a breaking point, a simple line, some sort of connection. What people don’t see is that the dash holds the story of the person. From the first date, the individuals birth date their life begins. The dash represents the life they lived. It stands for every action that person took in their life and how they used their god given life. It tells the story, it holds history but more importantly it tells the purpose of life. It does not matter how much a person owns; their cars, house, the money they have, what matters is how we choose to spend our dash. No one knows how much time is left before their dash runs out of room, if people would just slow down to consider what is real and what is true. Many times you hear of regrets, things people want to change; what they don’t know is that with their dash they can rearrange.
Rockholt wanted to use his dash wisely, he was going to treat the people he loved most with more respect and teach them about their dash, that the special gift may only last a little while. He was prepared that today very well could be the date that his dash led up to, but was confident that at his funeral when his eulogy was read people would respect the man he was and with his life actions to rehash he would be proud of what would be said and how he spent his dash.
He looked back and could see how his son had taught him to spend his dash with care. His son was intriguing on his view point of life, he saw it as the greatest thing there was and he had shown that to his dad. Now sitting there with Mctavish he could see that Mctavish had shown him as well. He had cared for him and got to know him when no one else would, he became a true friend. He had come to learn that it does not matter what you have in your life but rather who you have in your life. He would rather be surrounded by friends and family that gold and silver.
He saw now that two people could look at something exactly the same and see a different image. But he learned that the world does not change, only the people in the world change. He was ready to make a change, he was ready.



























CHAPTER XXI

As the night began to fall upon the land there was still time to kill before they made their move, or time before he was killed. He was coming more to terms that he may not come out of this alive, he was prepared to make that sacrifice, but he was not prepared to leave things unsaid. He had to tell Jane he loved her one more time, and he had to tell her.....there were so many things he had to tell her. He took back out his journal and walked a few feet away, found a spot that allowed him a clear view into the sky and put pen to paper. Mctavish was more than aware that he needed some time and stayed behind rather to watch guard around their area and try and navigate his way into the camp from where he was sitting.

My dearest Jane,

Life has been more than good to us but also more than cruel to us. I did not want to leave you alone in this world, but I had a duty to perform not only to my country but to you as well. I could not stand the thought of losing you; I came out here to protect you so that I may see you once again. Jane, I want to hold you, you are my princess and I became your prince the day you said yes to marrying me, now all that is left for us is to run. To run far way from this place and seek refuge among the stars and skies, to soar freely across the oceans and find the hidden treasures of the world creating our own adventures and adding to our love story.
Because you come to me with naught save love,
And hold my hand and life mine eyes above,
A wider world of hope and joy I see,
Because you come to me,
Because you speak to me in accents sweet,
I find the roses waking round my feet,
And I am led through tears of joy to thee
Because you speak to me
Because God made thee mine, I’ll cherish thee
Through light and darkness, through all time to be
And pray His love may make our love divine,
Because God made thee mine.
We did not go into that restaurant looking for love, we did not go there expecting anything to come from it; the cool thing was everything came from that night. Everything I ever wanted I found in you, I was not looking to find love right away, but there was no way to ignore the love you that radiated from you into my bosom.
You took my hand and told me to look above; I saw the stars and the moon that one evening so clear. As my eyes were above I caught glimpses of what was to come to pass, that you were mine and you had sought me out with love so pure and deep. Love is a four letter word that changed the world, love is who we are. Love is not a game but rather a journey of time and temperance, love takes two, and two can fall in love and become one. We are one, we became love the moment our eyes met, and nothing could have stopped the transformation of our spirits into one.
Jane when I look into your eyes I see the ocean blue,
Its waves crashing, its winds howling,
But always keeping me close to you,
When I look into your eyes
I see fields of gold
Shining and shimmering with the joy you bring to my heart
When I look into your eyes
I see everything
From the stars to the moon
To your sweetness that radiates life to my soul
When I look into your eyes
My love for you grows and grows
When I look into your eyes
It feels so right to hold you in my arms
When I look into your eyes
I see the sweetest of the sweet shenanigans we have made together
My knees buckle and my heart thumps,
Every time I look into your eyes
Forever and ever I want to look into your eyes
And tell you how much I love you
My heart thumps, my knees buckle
I love the feeling I get
Every time I look into your eyes.
Jane no matter where you reside, I will always be looking into your eyes and telling you how much I love you.
I have been longing to hear your voice because it is what keeps me sane, you calm me with it and you whisper words so sweet to my ears. Watching you walk down the aisle on our wedding day to the alter made me see that wherever you go happiness follows. I saw the roses spring up around your feet to meet the glorious rays you radiate, it does not matter what time of day or place you always have a glow about you that tells me you are mine.
I would be lying if I said I have never cried because I am so happy to have you in my life and that I was the man who was able to put a ring onto your finger. The day you became mine was the day I promised to cherish you and treat you with the respect you deserve. I may not always be a knight in shining armor but rather your husband in jeans and a t-shirt I will always seek to make you happy first. I may fall but you may rise and then I will rise to meet you because you always reach down and pull me up. We are a team and you have not forgotten that and I know you never will forget that.
Jane, I may not make it home for Christmas this year, if I do I may not be sitting next to you around the dinner table; but rather lying six feet under you. I am fighting my way back to you but if you are reading this I am not there to tell you all this in person and our worst fears have come to life. If you are reading this please don’t worry. I have found where soldiers go, I have come to find the truth of passing on and I am with god, both of us are watching over you. I now know that, that is why I am not afraid to die, but I am afraid that I was not able to give you one more kiss. Jane, I want to come home, but if I don’t I am home. I was there to see the birth of our son, but if you are reading this I won’t be there to see him grow up. Please let him know that his daddy loves him and please teach him to stand up for what he believes in. What a tragedy it would be for someone to tell him that his dreams cannot come true and for him to believe them.
I never knew if there was a heaven or a hell, but now I know and if you are reading this I am sitting on the swings in heaven waiting for you. I remember that on our fist date I waited for what seemed like an eternity at the time waiting for you to show up and when you did you apologized because everything you tried on you didn’t like. I don’t mind waiting on a woman, especially not my woman. Jane, take your time getting up here if you are reading this, I know it won’t be your time and you have so much you can give back to the world, if you are reading this I am waiting, but I don’t mind.
I am only going to ask, please remember me. My body may not be around you, but my spirit will always be with you. Love is unstoppable, it can weather any storm and it will always bring us back together. No matter the road we take, no matter the distance, love does not change. I have been pulled down by regrets and when the cold hard rain won’t quit and my faith is shaken, I have learned to get on my knees and dig down deep to find that love is unstoppable. Nothing will ever change the way I love you, nothing. Love is a helping hand when you need it most and it is the light house on the coast that is never going to go dim because I am finding my way back to you, I will always find my way back to you because you wish me home. Love will always make us whole, because love is unstoppable, love has conquered the impossible. With love we can do what we think is impossible, which is finding each other again. If you are reading this, I am not coming home but it does not change the fact that our love is unstoppable.
As I have been out here in this war I have seen how fragile life is, how families have been torn apart with no warning. If you are reading this I am not coming home with a dozen roses and I won’t be wrapping my arms around you again for a while. If you are reading this, this was the last day of my life. Time was a thief to us, but I promise one day I will bring you a dozen roses and I am going to wrap my arms around you and rock you all through the night because love is unstoppable and spirits don’t move on. I have come to believe in something bigger than the two of us, I have come to believe that if this is the end, it is only the beginning.
Jane there are so many things I regret not telling you before I came out here. If this is going to be my last day then I have to tell you what has kept me from loving you to the fullest extent I know how. Jane, I have another son. Right after we were married I had an affair with another women, I have no explanation as to why I did, because I love you and that is all I know. But it happened and because of that I have another son. I kept this from you to protect you but I realize now it was to protect myself. I am so sorry. It was my worst fear that if I told you I would awake and feel that something was wrong. I would then search the house to find out what was wrong and when I would call out your name and you would not answer back and it would hit me like a ton of bricks what was wrong. Jane, please, I am sorry.
If you lose your faith in me, please keep your faith in people.

The man who truly loves you,
John Rockholt
CHAPTER XXII

The time had come. Once put into motion Rockholt and Mctavish would not be able to stop the wheels from turning. Their plan was a smash and grab, they were going to penetrate part of the outer wall with an explosive that gave off intense heat, then they were going to get in and use the front gate to escape. They were prepared to take down every guard in that place in order to ensure success.
Rockholt had told Barta and Kenway to be on the lookout for any sign that would show of his return, Ivan was also watching for that. Tonight was the night that Rockholt was going to signal his return, he was going to make a statement that no one could ignore. From their position up on the hill they had a perfect site of fire to take out multiple guards within the encampment. “Fire when ready Mctavish, but make every shot count. This is going to alert our presence but it will make life easier once we are in.”
Breathing very slowly and carefully so as not to disrupt the scope they opened fire. No one heard the sound of the .50 Caliber sniper rifles because they were suppressed but everyone noticed the first guard die, one bullet through his head and he was gone. Even the prisoners were now anxious to see what would happen next, and when Barta and Kenway both saw the guard get shot who was walking there way they knew it was time. They knew that if they caused a riot now it would disrupt the sniping process so all they could do was sit still. Guards were peering out around corners trying to discover the position they were being fired upon. Any guard that was dumb enough to look received a bullet to the face which took off his face.
“We are making progress Mctavish. Keep going, but if you see Ivan he is mine.”
They continued to rain bullets on the guards and when they had taken out any guard in the open, which was a good amount they had to give up on their game. It had worked, everyone in the camp knew that help had arrived and they were ready to fight back as well to get out of the camp. When Barta and Kenway could see that the sniping was done they ran picking up the weapons of the dead guards and hunting down the rest of the guards still alive.
A riot broke out in the camp as other prisoners began to beat down the doors of the barracks and kill the guards with there bare hands, climbing over the dead as they were mowed down by machine gun fire. “Let’s move, we have to get in there!” Rockholt and Mctavish left the snipers and ran down the mountain, they made it to the wall with no incident because everyone was tied up inside. They planted the explosives and turned as a white hot flash and concussion blew apart the wall and multiple people standing on the other side. Debris littered the area and Rockholt and Mctavish moved in quickly and took cover behind a truck whose windows had been blown out by the blast. They surveyed the sight and could see the havoc they had reaped with their snipers.
Dead guards were strewn everywhere, bullets through their heads, prisoners beating them in anger and relief they were dead. He had to find Barta and Kenway, he was going to save as many people as he could, but he had to find his men. Raising their guns Rockholt and Mctavish moved expertly through the camp moving from cover to cover and taking out guards that came there way.
Barta and Kenway were fighting through their fair share of guards, their training coming back to them. They slowly advanced towards the area where the blast had come from.
Rockholt could not believe his eyes, “Voss!” Voss turned around and was stunned. “I trusted you Voss!” “Well look where that got you Rockholt! It is better to be the right hand of the devil and not in his path, I am immune!” A bullet entered Voss’s head, Rockholt had drawn his pistol and shot him, barrel smoking he holstered it, “Look where betraying me got you.”
“Captain!” Rockholt turned and running towards him were Barta and Kenway! They were alive! “Captain you came back!” “I told you two I would! Now let’s get out of here.” They continued, the four men through the camp playing search and destroy. Mctavish was part of the team on this mission, Delta 8 was regrouped.
“Captain watch out!” Mctavish threw himself in front of Rockholt as a guard came out of the shadows and opened fire. Mctavish’s vest would have stopped the impact but the guard shot him with armor piercing rounds, one hit him in the upper right of his chest, one bullet hit him in the upper left of his chest, and he took one to the gut. As Mctavish fell before Rockholt’s eyes both Barta and Kenway shot the guard at the same time. Rockholt fell to his knees cradling Mctavish’s head. “No! Mctavish! Vincent!” Weakly Mctavish opened his eyes, “Captain, Brothers in Arms fight together. You taught me that.” He was gone, those were his final words. “No! Mctavish get up! We have a mission to complete! Get up!” Rockholt was shaking Mctavish but he would not get up, he was dead.
For a moment the world stood still as one of its finest men died, Rockholt had just lost a friend. A man who taught him what life is about, and now he was gone. “Please God!” “Captain! We have to move!” Kenway grabbed Rockholt and forced him to run, leaving Mctavish there. There was nothing they could do now but try and stay alive and they were getting pinned down by heavy machine gun fire. They ran into a building and barricaded the door behind them. They smashed out all of the boards covering the windows and began to hold their current position. They had limited ammunition so time was short.
“He is gone, Mctavish saved my life.” Rockholt was devastated, it took everything he had to keep it together and help his men fight, they had to stay alive and get out of here or Mctavish died for nothing. He was going to make sure he was honored; now things were truly personal.
Making every shot count the three men were able to fight there way out of the building and back out into the courtyard of the camp. They had not realized that there were this many guards in the camp. They found that many had staged as prisoners so that if they were attacked like now, they would be disguised until they blew there cover which would give them the upper hand. Rockholt saw many who he had actually worked alongside with and now that person had a gun trained on him and was trying to kill him. Spotlights were put on them but the men soon shot them out to better conceal themselves in the dark. They kept moving through the courtyard using anything for cover, if they stayed in one spot they would die. They had now moved to the other side of the camp and were starting to clear all the barracks of the prisoners telling them to head for the front gates. Masses of people ran to the front gates where they were pounding to get them open.
They themselves headed back to the gates after they had cleared the courtyard of prisoners, many who had taken up tools and were fighting the guards. They had been enclosed as animals and now they could smell freedom, they were not going to let that be taken away again. “Barta find the controls for that gate!” Barta swiftly broke off from the group and proceeded through the camp. He kicked in the door of a building and killed the two guards that were inside watching the chaos on TV monitors. From there Barta was able to locate the control room and could see that it was three buildings from his current position.
Rockholt and Kenway were walking backwards fighting off any soldier that came near them, they had to get those gates open or they were all going to die in this place. The hole Rockholt and Mctavish had come in through was on the other side of the camp, they had to get the gates open. They had no radios so they could not check up on the progress of Barta who was making his way to the control room.
Once Barta had made his way inside the control room he had no idea what button to push in order to open the gates. His solution to the problem was to just shoot the control panel and hoped it knocked out the locks on the gate.
The prisoners pounding the gates were able to push them open and flood out into the jungle as soon as Barta shot up the panel.
Once again they regrouped and made sure all the prisoners were out. All the guards were dead so they themselves were free to go. There work here was done, or so they thought. There was a section of the camp they did not even know existed, an underground tunnel system that ran underneath them and more guards were making their way to the surface. They all saw the trap doors open and they took cover as another battle proceeded. This was not good. They were low on ammo and had to run out and grab whatever gun they could from the dead bodies in order to keep fighting and to stay alive.
They were able to brake off and head down an alley but were cut short by a man. “Leaving so soon Rockholt?” Rockholt stopped, Ivan was in front of him, and he was going to end this now. “Barta, Kenway find another route.” “Captain?” “Now!” Barta and Kenway took off down another alley in the camp looking for another way out.
“How noble of you to send your men off Rockholt.” “This is not their fight Ivan; this is between me and you.”
“Come and get it then Rockholt.”
















CHAPTER XXIII

Words I need to say. Words I can’t find, words I need to hear. I cry for help but my words are just out of reach. I feel that I have something to say but words elude my mind. Words so simple, yet so complex. Words I write and words I speak are words of two different might. Words of the past and words of the present create the future words that elude my mind.
Jane had been at her desk all night now. Her eyes were red and swollen from the tears that had broken through the emotional dam. The sun was slowly coming over the mountains casting rays upon her that took no affect. After Vincent had gone to bed last night she anticipated to stay up just a little while longer in order to write John a letter. She had not heard from John now for the last few months, she had forced herself to keep things to herself, but no longer could she hold the grief and emotion in.
Slowly she pulled out a sheet of paper and began to write.

Dear John,
It has been a couple months....

Jane crumpled the paper and threw it over her shoulder.

My dearest John,
It has been an eternity....

She crumpled the paper as before and gave the other paper a companion. That is how her entire night proceeded. She would put words onto paper and they would laugh at her. She could not find the exact words to put down. She did not know if her husband was dead or not, she had received no notice of him being dead, but she also had no way of knowing if he was alive.
Tears began to steadily fall and dot each letter she started and crumpled. She did not fight back, she let the tears come, and it was a relief to finally let them out. One can be strong for only so long and then they just fall apart and lose it all. No one was around to witness her devastation so she did not hide, she fell apart. She walked into the kitchen still sniffling to get her a cup of coffee. As she brewed it and silently waited she longed for John, nothing could comfort her now, unless it was John. She poured her coffee and wrapped her hands around the cup letting the warmth run through her. She was not ashamed to cry but she would be ashamed if she sat back and did not get everything out. She was not mad or angry but rather terrified of the truth.
She made her way back into her room stopping to check on Vincent, he was asleep. She sat down back at her desk and just sat there for a few minutes letting things run out of her. She let out a long sigh, she knew she had to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. She picked up her pen and began to write:

John my love,
They days have grown shorter and the nights longer that I pray for daylight without you here to stop the hands of time. Time has moved forward and I have not heard from you in a few months. I told you I would be here when you got back home and I am. I am not going anywhere, and I will follow you where you choose to go. There have been many times that I have wanted to let go and move on but I can’t. You taught me to be strong; you taught me that love is what matters. You may not be here but you are the sunshine in my hair, you are the whispers in the wind, you are all of the simple things in life, and I know without a doubt that you will be here for me until the end.
On the other hand though, I am not there with you, wherever you may be, but I am the whisper in the wind, I am your imaginary friend, I will be there with you until the end, and I am your guardian angel. I know that you have been through adversity, but so have I. When you come home, please stay home. I don’t know if I can stand and watch you walk away, I never know if it will be the last time I see you alive. And I fear that the last time was the last time. I can feel your touch every night but I long to hold you tight. Not having you next to me has been driving me insane every night.
Nothing is the same anymore since you left. Food does not taste, water does not quench my thirst for your love, and a part of me is missing. John all I am going to ask of you is to please come home.

Your Princess,

Jane

She slowly folded the paper into thirds and placed it inside of a preaddressed envelope, sealing the fold with a kiss or two. The sun was now coming up, she had written the entire night and she had been able to write one letter. She sat there and stared at the letter wondering if it was what she needed to write. She put on an old sweatshirt that still smelled like her husband and walked outside to the mailbox. The fight was on once more. When she put her hand on the lid everything came back at once, everything that she fought through the night.
She had faced her fears when she wrote the letter but now she was struggling once again. All the doubts of receiving a letter back from her husband were attacking her fiercely. She had been strong but now she was human, trying to be strong. She had so many questions about what was going on; there were so many answers she did not have which she had filled in with doubt and more questions. It seemed as if questions were here life, she was not surrounded by lies but questions about her life. She wanted to fight back but could not find the strength, she fell to down to her knees in the middle of the street. She remembered, she remembered what love was about, the taste of a long kiss, the feel of her finger tips running through John’s hair after a midnight dance in the rain, love remembers and she was remembering what love truly was to her. She realized that she had been so focused on the negative side and not on the good side of life. Every event had a silver lining, it was not always immediately visible but she knew it was there. She was now regaining sight of everything; she could see that love remembers.
She pushed herself up from the ground onto her feet and listened to the whispers in the wind, she felt the morning sun on her face. Every night she prayed for daylight and now it had finally come. Today was a new day; the sun was now taking a positive affect on her. She closed her eyes and let it warm her skin, breathing deeply she remembered what love could never forget. John was not dead; she could feel him fighting for survival, fighting his way back to her. She did not know how long he would stay alive, she did not know if he would make it home to give her one more kiss, but she did know that he was fighting to get home. She did know that he loved her and that he always would love her. Distance is only a test of how strong love is, because she had not seen him in months their reunion would be sweet and joyful, it would make the world stop and focus on them and the love they shared. She knew in her heart that for better or worse she would be ok.







































CHAPTER XXIV

Two graves were being dug as Rockholt stared at the man he hated in the eyes. Ivan was right before him, he had already taken care of Voss for betraying him, but now he had a chance to rid the earth of this filth but he did not know what the world would ask of him. Neither man moved, they just stared. Hatred for Ivan was pulsing through Rockholt’s veins and it was clouding his mind, he forgot that he was here to save and not to kill. Saving in this case required killing but he was out for blood, he wanted to spill Ivan’s blood and watch him die, he wanted revenge. Ivan may have given him a scar that he has to live with but he did not have to live with Ivan, he wanted him dead. His mission had been to save his men and to free this camp but his personal mission was to kill Ivan, the man that took everything away from him and left him lying in the dust.
If looks could kill both Ivan and Rockholt would be dead from the penetrating stares they were giving each other, each wanted to kill the other but each did not know it was his brother. Blood was going to be spilt, that was for sure, but each man wanted the others spilt and not theirs. It was a moment that would write history forever, it was a moment that would change the world for better or for worse. If Ivan lived he would bring the world to his feet and lay it to waste, if Rockholt lived he would do everything in his power to keep the land free and give back to the people what was god given theirs and help protect that so no one else could walk in and steal it away.
Ivan was looking at Rockholt with disgust, here was the man that had eluded his grasp one to many times, once was too many. Now he had him where he wanted him, he was in his territory and he was not leaving. He would get Rockholt to crack, that was his personal mission, and he wanted to know what was going on inside that head of his. He knew that there was a good chance he would have to kill Rockholt in order to keep himself alive, if that was the case his revenge would be complete but his questions would not be answered. He wanted Rockholt alive but knew it was unlikely, Rockholt was going to fight until he was dead. Maybe this was a man who could match him wit for wit, maybe Rockholt was the one that would bring his downfall. Shaking his head Ivan trained his eyes back to Rockholt, he wanted him to make the first move so he just stood his ground and waited.
It was a showdown of tyrants, each ruled a different way and each ruled for their country. Rockholt ruled with brotherhood and trust, Ivan ruled with treachery and killing. Rockholt ruled for freedom and to give freedom unto every kindred, tongue, and nation so that everyone may feel the invigoration of being free, of being able to do whatever you want to do, to choose for yourself and not be told what you have to do. Ivan wanted something completely different; he wanted man to obey his command and to treat him as a king. He ruled for the world, he ruled for destruction and turbulence and not freedom but captivity. If he could get the world under his thumb he would be untouchable, he would be a god among men and would bring the world to her knees, and he would be free in his own twisted way. Each man stood for something different, each brother was a brother of their own faith and knowledge, not knowing blood from evil they were ready to kill for what they believed in to be right, which was wrong from the other view point.
Rockholt took one step forward, Ivan mimicked his maneuver by taking one step forward. “Why Ivan? Why sell your soul to the devil when you know he is going to turn his back on you?” Ivan smirked, did this fool not know? Did he truly not know why? “I will be a ruler, a god among men my feeble minded friend. I will be invincible living in luxury and you will be dead with a mourning family watching over your grave.” “Leave my family out of this!” “Oh, so you do have a family, interesting.” What Ivan did not know was that he was threatening his own family; he was threatening his blood line. “After I am done with you Rockholt I may have to take a trip and meet your family, I am sure they would adore me.” “Do you feel nothing?! Do you feel no pain or despair for all of the pain you have caused these people?!” Ivan just smirked. “Answer me!” “I feel that I am doing the world a favor by cleansing it of the weak and teaching everyone else the true meaning of life that they were meant to serve a king, me being that king. Don’t worry, I will make sure your death is slow and painful so you can watch me be crowned and take my place a top my thrown of dead bodies.” “I will be the one to topple you off of your thrown!” With that Rockholt charged Ivan and tackled him to the ground and began to beat him. Ivan responded by kicking Rockholt off of him and beating him back, right and left his fists connected with his face. He leaned over and Ivan brought his knee up into his face, blood shot out of his mouth from the blow. Ivan and Rockholt wrestled on the ground trading punches and blows, pounding each other, looking to draw blood and to ultimately kill the other. Rockholt pulled his knife out and went to stab Ivan in the chest but Ivan was too quick and turned his own knife against him burying it deep into his chest; he felt it slide in under his third rib on his right side. Ivan kicked him back and sat up, “Looks like you failed to keep your promise Captain.” Ivan pulled out his revolver and aimed at Rockholt’s head. “It’s nothing personal, just war.”
Ivan pulled the trigger. Rockholt braced for death but realized that the bullet had missed him and went above his head. Barta had come out of no where and tackled Ivan to the ground which disrupted his aim. Barta hit Ivan so hard that when they hit the ground a few of Ivan’s ribs cracked from the impact. Barta yelling beat Ivan, he punched him right and left, he kneed him, he went crazy on him; but Ivan was trained better in hand to hand combat and quickly got the upper-hand on Barta and reversed the situation. Ivan on top of Barta Rockholt barely breathing could see that he was beating Barta to death; it was only a matter of time before Barta was dead. He was in no condition to fight, but maybe he didn’t have to. He glanced down at the knife in his chest and grimaced at the thought. He grasped the knife with both of his hands and began to pull; he felt it give way and start to slide out of his chest catching on his ribs as it came out. Barta was dying before his eyes, being beaten to death. With one final jerk he ripped the knife out, blood coming out of his mouth, eyes wide from pain Rockholt gripped the knife in his right hand and prayed that his aim was true. Mustering every ounce of strength he had left he hurled the knife at Ivan. Barta could not take much longer and everything slowed down as Rockholt watched the knife fly through the air, he watched as it buried into Ivan’s chest knocking him off of Barta. It was over.
Painfully Barta got to his knees and crawled over to Rockholt. “Captain, hang on. Just hang on.” Barta’s voice was raspy and low from the beating he took. Rockholt’s breathing was extremely shallow, he was dying. “Barta.” “I am here.” “Barta get me...t...t...t...to...my...feet...” Barta put his arms underneath Rockholt’s arms and hoisted him up; Rockholt could not muffle the cry that escaped his lips. “Get me to that....flag....” Barta could see the flag pole in the middle of the court yard; he carefully walked him there where they met up with Kenway. “What happened?! Captain!” “He is dying Kenway, we have to get him out of here.” “No.” Rockholt had another promise to keep. He had put a knife into Ivan’s chest, but this place was not free yet. He let go of Barta and unzipped his vest where carefully folded and placed inside was an American flag. He clipped it to the flag pole and raised it into the air. “I declare this land free. I will fight for this land; I will give my life for this land. This land is free.”
Rockholt put his hand to his chest, Barta and Kenway did the same to salute the flag; but that is when they saw the blood and the bullet hole as Rockholt pulled his hand away. As Rockholt crumpled to the ground they could see Ivan falling in a similar fashion, the knife to his chest did not kill him instantly, he was able to walk to the court yard and with his final breath shoot Rockholt with his revolver. His promise was done; he used one bullet and gave him a scar that he could not live with. “No! Captain!” Barta ran to Rockholt’s side and cradled his head in his lap; tears began to stream down his face as he held his best friend. “B....Barta...” “John you’re going to be ok! Just hang on!” “Jason, you have to get this to my wife.” Every breath was a struggle for Rockholt as he reached into his vest once more and pulled out a letter stained with his blood on the corners. “Jason I order you to......” “John! John!” “Get this letter to my......” Rockholt was dying, he was slipping in and out, and he had but moments to live. “Jane.” With one last effort Rockholt looked around and saw the young boy he had killed, the boy told him it was ok, he was forgiven.
He was gone. Captain John Rockholt was dead. He used his final breath to order Jason Barta, his closest friend to get the letter he had written to his wife Jane. Barta took the letter and placed it inside his jacket and began to sob as he held his best friend, he watched him die. He held him and listened to him as he took his final breath. “He gave his life for us Kenway,” Barta said with a shaky voice tears streaming down his face. Kenway was gently shaking from sobs; he could not believe he was gone. He always saw John to be invincible, a Superman of men. Barta lifted his head and yelled to the sky, he was sobbing so hard he shook violently. “This is not right! He should be alive!” Rockholt had paid the price to get his men out alive, he had kept his promise, he had been true to his word, and he had gotten them out alive.
Death filled the air, Mctavish, Ivan, Rockholt, all three had died fighting for what they believed in. Kenway walked over and put his hand onto Barta’s shaking shoulder. “We have to go.” Barta looked to the flag that Rockholt had hung, he watched it flap in the wind, perfect, unblemished. Barta stood and with the help of Kenway they walked out of the camp. Barta looked forward; he had a mission to complete. They walked away as the sun set and consumed the body of their fellow companion. They were free.
Rockholt had reached into the darkest corners of the camp and dared where no other man would and saved countless lives, he brought freedom to the land. He proved that one man can make a difference in the world. One man can stand up for what he believes in. Rockholt was the one man that stood for the world; he was the man that stood for freedom. He was gone.






CHAPTER XXV

Rockholt was gone, their leader was gone. Both Barta and Kenway were capable of leading but they were not used to this. The man they had followed into war countless times was dead, the man they watched dodge bullets and put his life on the line for them was dead. The man was dead. He died for what he believed and he died to give them freedom. He had performed an act that made every soldier proud of him, he had made the sacrifice to keep freedom alive, he knew the cost, and he knew that freedom does not come free. It is amazing how we have to fight to keep freedom when it means that we are free.
Rockholt had done that, he fought where no other man would dare fight, he stared down death and he was the victor. He may be dead but he was not gone, his legacy would live on. Barta was going to make sure of that, he was going to get the letter to Jane; he was going to complete his mission which Rockholt gave him before he died. This mission was personal, no causalities, no running into certain death, no killing, just delivering a letter. But he had to make it back to base, wherever that may be, and then get home. Barta and Kenway knew that there was a base nearby but they had no idea where, they had no supplies, nothing to aid them in their journey except themselves. They had to stick together as brothers to stay alive, and they did just that. They would not move without watching each others backs, they made sure they kept some sort of connection to keep each other from falling into despair. They had watched their captain, their friend die, they wanted to avenge his death and they knew if they got home safe they would.
When they left the camp they stripped some of the guards of their boots and shirts but did not take their uniforms. They did not want to be shot in the jungle by their allies mistaking them for enemies because of their uniforms. As they walked they felt as though someone was guiding them but also guarding them. They realized that Rockholt did what he did so that they may live but also so others may live. He died for people he did not know, he died for people that hated him and wanted to kill him, but he died in order for them to live. He gave of himself in a way that no other man could. He took on the world and he bled for the world. He fought to keep the world a just place and to become a symbol. Barta and Kenway were going to make sure that the world knew the story of Captain John Rockholt, the world deserved to know how one man changed the world.
Barta and Kenway were not worried about running into enemy patrols, but they were still worried about dying. They were not worried because of the guardian they felt near but they were worried because their tattered bodies could not take much more physical excursion. They were nearing death with each footstep and were becoming closer with each breath. They knew that if they died everything would have been done in vain, Rockholt would have died in vain, Mctavish would have sacrificed himself for a lost cause, so they pressed on. Each footstep caused pain, each breath hurt, hearts beating fast they were in pain. They encouraged each other to keep going, they helped each other to keep going. If one fell behind the other would stop and cheer him on or go back and grab him and force him to keep walking. If they stopped they would fall into a sleep they would not wake up from, if they closed their eyes they knew they would die. Only when they were back at base and looked after could they close their eyes and escape into a dream away from reality that caused them so much grief.
There hands were cut up and raw from falling and catching themselves, there knees were torn and ragged from crawling when they no longer could walk. They had no flesh to spare to these wounds, each man weighed just over one hundred and twenty pounds, they had lost a considerable amount of weight in the camp and were feeling the effects of it. They had no energy but somehow found some to walk, they had no desire to live, but found something to live for; they did not want to relive in words what they went through but knew that they had to. They had a responsibility to their country and their nation. Every American had the right to know about the one man that may have saved them all, about the one man that would give them hopes and strength to carry on.
With each step they neared their destination but they did not know if they were walking the right way. For all they knew they could have been walking in the totally opposite direction of the camp but were too tired to even remotely try and fight the guidance they were feeling by some invisible force. The thought crossed their minds that they were being led back to death, but could not deny the feeling of comfort they received when they dwelt in their lowest stage. They walked through the night and into the next day only stopping at streams they crossed to drink of the mountain water that soothed their parched throats. It was a delicacy they had lost the right to in the camp but did not waste valuable time taking in the luxuriousness of it all; they had a mission to complete first.
They walked in a dazed sort of mind, not knowing where they were, eyes glazed over from sleep deprivation, they were exhausted but kept moving. What kept them awake were the constant thoughts they had to try and figure out who or what was guiding them, they were curious and their curiosity saved their lives for the time being.
Barta and Kenway were fighting to keep another brother alive. Rockholt may be dead but he was not gone. They were not going to let the world forget the sacrifice he gave, they were determined to get him an award, some recognition, they wanted people to see his face and to hear his name and automatically know who he is and what he did for the American people. They walked by putting one foot in front of the other, that is all they could do.
They had to carry on, they knew they would get rest when they were done and they could lay their weary heads to rest. They had seen things that even the devil that pitiful snake would cringe at seeing. They were men among angels; they were half dead and half alive. Two different realities, one being them among angels the other them walking together in the jungle in which they could see someone guiding them; they could finally see who was guiding them. They thought it was Rockholt until the man turned around and spoke to them, “Peace be unto thy soul.” One statement is all it took for them to know they were going to live, they were going to make it back to the base and live, they were going home.
Each step brought them closer back to home where they could sit on their front porch and look inside and see a miracle of their families. Rockholt was not going to be able to look into his front porch again, he was not going to be able to fly around the house with his son, he was not going to be able to take him to the park, but Barta would make sure that Vincent knew his father was still flying with him and that he was waiting for him at the park. He would make sure that Vincent would believe; he was going to let him know that his father was still around. Rockholt was now a citizen soldier; he could not be seen but was always there to protect those in need. Just as he was protecting Barta and Kenway. That is when they rounded the ridge and saw the camp below them, they had made it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jane jerked awake and sat up in bed, something was not right. John was dead. She was going to miss him coming through that door and putting on their favorite song and dancing with her all through the night to it. She was going to miss him when that song came on, when their song came on. She could feel that he was gone, she rolled over to his side of the bed and buried her face in his pillow and cried. Soft tears trickled down her cheeks, he was with her. She could feel his arms wrap around her and could hear him whisper in her ear of how he loved her. She could not forget what love was wearing when she was at the airport watching him walk away. She could not forget that night when she was on her knees crying to the heavens for him to come back and the circus that formed around her as she was lost for a while. There was no way any other man would take his place; there was no way she was going to lie in the arms of a stranger because she still had her love’s arms around her because love remembers. She knew she could numb the pain with a bottle, but she would rather pour it down the drain than bring the poison to her lips because they were meant for the kisses that she knew John would keep on giving her. She remembered everything they had, she loved everything, she could not forget because love remembers. She believed in a thing called love.























CHAPTER XXVI

Light was filtering through their swollen eyelids as Barta and Kenway both came back to consciousness. They had not realized that they had passed out on the top of the hill; they did not know how long they had been there. A day? Hour? They every memory glued to their minds, they could see everything they wished and unfortunately they could see everything they wanted to forget. They could not get the image of Rockholt dying out of their minds; it was as if it had been burned there, melted there so they would always have to remember the pain that was on his face. They were not sure how they were going to move on with their lives, they had no idea how to face their fears, old and new. Everything seemed like blur to them, they had to keep asking themselves if it all really happened. Every thing hinted that they should be dead, but here they were alive, barely, but alive.
Every muscle in their body screamed as they sat up. They were extremely tired, sore and tight, it hurt to move anything but they had to force themselves to get to that camp or they were going to die. Already it felt too good to lie down and close their eyes; they had to make it to that camp at all costs. Both men found it easier to roll onto their stomachs and then get on their hands and knees but even that simple motion caused them to clench their teeth and the pain was so intense they almost blacked out again. On their hands and knees they crawled, they crawled to live. One step forward followed by movement forward was to much to handle with the first one, now they had hundreds more to go to reach the camp and they did not know how they were going to if it hurt as bad as it did. It felt as though thousands of knifes were being stabbed into them, just like Rockholt was stabbed. Tears filled their eyes it hurt, but they kept moving. Every time their hands touched the ground blood was drawn from the rough terrain, their knees were shredded within a few feet of movement because they had no strength to fully lift them off of the ground so instead they slid them along.
Bleeding, hurting both physically and emotionally they lifted each other up and gave each other the strength to carry on, they would constantly look at the other to see if they wanted to rest but the pride of their ego drove them to keep going until the other took a rest break first, neither of them wanted to give in so neither of them did. They were so close to their destination but so far and they had nothing left to give, every ounce of energy, everything they had was gone. It felt as though their hearts were going to explode they were beating so hard and fast, their lungs could not bring in enough air to provide antiquate oxygen to their already battered muscles, but they moved on. They did not know if it was fear of dying or the thought of going home that kept them crawling, or a little of both. Hours Barta and Kenway crawled and they only slightly neared the camp. It had seemed so much closer when they stood at the top of the hill and now it seemed as though it were a distant image, which is how painful it was for them to move, slow and agonizing.
Kenway stopped, “We have to keep moving,” Barta said with what breath he had. Kenway looked up but quickly looked away as he vomited blood spraying it all over in front of him. There was nothing left in his system to vomit, so his body moved to the next thing, his own blood. “Leave me.” Kenway collapsed to the ground and from there he did not move. “Kenway,” Barta crawled over to him, “You have to get up.” Kenway was softly moaning, he was slipping into an abyss that he would not come back from. “I am going to get you to that camp, you hear?!” Screaming from the pain Barta stood up and as he did so joint after joint popped and everything went white. He toppled back and forth fighting to keep his balance. He bent down and did not know how but picked Kenway up and slung him over his shoulders and took a step forward. “I am going to get you to that camp!” Every step racked his body with pain, his mind was exploding lights, he had no sense of anything but he moved on. He stopped holding in the pain as tears were streaming down his face it hurt to walk so bad but he had to keep going, he had to get his brother to that camp, he had a mission to complete, he just plain wanted to go home. He took another step and fell to one knee, he heard laughing. “Give up Barta, you won’t make it!” “I will make it!” With that he stood up and took another step forward but fell again to one knee. “You fool, you will not make it!” Barta looked up only to see a man, a man full of darkness, a man who wanted every man in the world to suffer as he did and this man was telling him to quit. “Look at yourself, you cannot make it on your own and you insist carrying another. Drop him and take your chances of making it, but give up now and you can come with me where you will have no one to carry.” “Shut up!” Barta stood up and began to walk, step after step he took why this dark man stood watch and continued to banter him into giving up. “I will not give up! I am going to make it to that camp!”
As he neared this man Barta looked into his eyes and saw nothing, this man had no heart; he had no soul just pure darkness. “I will never be anything like you. I am strong, I am who I choose to be and I choose to be a brother!” His legs trembled with each step, his feet felt as though he was dragging cinder blocks behind him, he could not look up and could only pray that he was walking towards the camp. As he looked down he not only saw his feet but another’s walking next to him stride for stride. He screamed as he lifted his head and looked to his right, the pain from that caused him to lose his balance and almost fall back to the ground. He saw no one but when he put his head down the feet were there again and his load seemed lighter for some reason. There were many experiences that he could not explain what was going on, such as this he could not explain nor had the least bit idea why he was walking easier and why carrying Kenway became a joy to him. But even with this god granted help every step caused extreme pain, he knew that if he died the letter he had been entrusted with may not make it back to Jane, but he knew Kenway would live.
He did not know if he was going to live or die but either way something was blocking his path. It was hard and cold and had a spring to it; he looked up and saw the base. He had walked right into the fence and there running to him were Americans! He had made it! They had made it! “Kenway! We made it!” He actually began to run hanging onto Kenway as he bounced up and down towards the gate where they were met with other soldiers who carried Kenway from their on and helped him to walk. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” “Sir who are you?” “My name is Jason Barta and that is Lance Kenway. We were under the command of Captain John Rockholt.” And again everything went black.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Barta, Barta wake up.” Barta opened his eyes to see Kenway lying in a bed next to him. “Where are we?” “We made it to the base and you saved my life, thank you.” “You would have done the same for me bud.” They both turned their attention to the door as General Shepherd came into their hospital room they had been given. “It is amazing that you two are alive, the doctors are stunned,” General Shepherd said pacing the room. “Sir, we are alive because Rockholt had the balls to do what you would not,” Barta spoke up; he wanted to cut straight to the point. “Jason do not push me!” “Or what general, huh? I witnessed my captain, my brother die because he ran into a bullet for me and Kenway. He was willing to die for us, as we were him while you were willing to sit in your office and do nothing.” General Shepherd slammed his fist against the wall, “I gave him everything he needed to get you out of there, I am sorry he died, I truly am, but I have my own men to look out for.” “He was one of your men sir,” Barta lowered his voice; he was not looking for a fight. “Just because he did not serve on this base did not mean he was not a Brother in Arms to you. Every man that is fighting in this war is a brother to each other. Rockholt died protecting that.” “The doctors say both of you are in stable condition and can be transported. I have arranged a flight home for you where you will both receive an honorable discharge from your duties.” Both Barta and Kenway wanted to lash out at the general for being the coward he was. “I thought a leader was supposed to lead and not run the other way with his tail between his legs,” Kenway could not hold his tongue. The general just walked out.
It was over, they were alive and they were going home. Barta closed his eyes and laid back into his pillows; he did not know how he was going to face Jane but was going to complete his mission. It was the least he could do for his brother, Rockholt, his Brother in Arms.
























CHAPTER XXVII

Home is a place of refuge and comfort and not even war can take that away from a home. A home can always be rebuilt; no matter how many times it is torn down and destroyed it will never go away. A home is not defined by the structure but by the people that reside in it.
Barta and Kenway were not really sure if they had a home to go to anymore. While they had been in the camp they had received no mail and had no contact with the outside world. They were worried that their families thought them dead and that they had moved on but either way they were going home. As they were escorted across the tarmac to a small leer jet they were both excited and worried. But nothing could beat that once this plane took off they were going home. When they were in the camp they never thought they would be going home, they thought they were never going to get state side again to a free land, where they could be who they wanted to be. They were always going to be tormented by what happened and what they went through but with the sweet love of a woman they knew they could make it through anything and that is what they were heading home to, they hoped, a woman. They were informed that that while on the plane they were going to have the opportunity to call their families and let them know they were coming home and that they were safe and alive. The only better news they could have gotten besides that was of Rockholt being able to call his family but they were destined to be the bearer of bad news to his family.
The general was standing outside the plane to see them off, he was not fond of Barta and Kenway and they were not fond of him but he had helped them to recover. “You boys have a safe trip home you hear?” “Thank you,” Kenway muttered as he boarded the plane. Barta stopped and looked at the general, “Mctavish deserves a medal, he is a hero.” With that he walked onto the plane not saying another word to the general. He knew he was not on his way home only because of Rockholt’s doing, he knew that without Mctavish helping Rockholt he and Kenway could very well be dead right now.
What they knew to be true as the jet took off and they watched the terrain of Japan sink beneath them was that God had blessed the broken road for them, they were rolling home into their lovers’ arms. Both men were excited but both men had heavy hearts, they had come to this land as Delta 8 now they left his land broken. Voss had betrayed them which resulted in them being tortured and living in hell for months and Rockholt had given his life for them so they may live. Barta stared out the window trying to make sense of it all, he wanted to know why he was alive and Rockholt was not. What gave him the right to be alive? He was contemplating ways he could have saved Rockholt, was there something he missed? He was also beating himself up that he did not get to Rockholt sooner and that he was pulverized by Ivan but most of all that he did not see Ivan behind Rockholt when he shot him. He could have stopped all that from happening if only he had paid more attention to his surroundings instead of making sure he was alive. Kenway could see the pain behind Barta’s mask, “I know you to well Barta, and we both cannot hide our pain.” “I should have saved him, I should have done something.” Barta just continued to stare out the window. “What? There is nothing you could have done. Barta you cannot continue to beat yourself up over this, I wish I could have done something to, changed what happened, go back and save Rockholt but we can’t.” Kenway got up and walked over to Barta where he knelt in front of him, “We are alive for a reason, and it is now up to us to find that reason. If we sit here and swallow in our hurt we have lost everything. Rockholt fought for us, he died for us now let us fight for him, let us make sure he is honored and commemorated for his actions that led to our survival.” Kenway got up and left Barta to his own thoughts.
“You are right you know. I just saw Rockholt as the one man that could not be killed, the one man who knew everything was going to be ok, the one man that would always make things right. The world lost a good man when he died.” “But is influence does not have to be gone,” Kenway pointed out. “We can show the world what he did and through him inspire millions to stand up for what they believe in.” Barta knew Kenway was right; he did just not want to face the fact that Rockholt was actually dead. It had all seemed like a dream when he got shot; a nightmare that he could not wake up from but here he was, awake. It felt as though everything he knew had been stripped away from him; he had been cast back out into the world with just his name and nothing else. Kenway was by his side but he had no one else near him, he was struggling getting back into the groove of things. He had only had his freedom back for a short period of time and all of that time had had spent running for his life and lying in a hospital bed and now he was going home but still in a very weak condition, he had no time to enjoy his new found freedom which is what he was hoping for when he got home, time to enjoy life; also that he would be able to put all this behind him and move on remembering but living.
Barta looked over and could see that Kenway had laid his chair back and was now asleep but he was fidgeting in his sleep, he could tell that he was also remembering everything that had happened. Barta was afraid to sleep because then he could not defend his mind it would be susceptible to everything. He fought hard to stay awake but it felt as though someone had taped bricks to his eyelids and were pulling on them as hard as they could to add to the weight.
He was back in the camp and he was watching himself move through the camp. It was then he realized that he had fallen asleep and he was dreaming of what had taken place in the camp. He tried to wake himself up in a panic but no matter how loud he shouted no one, not even himself in the dream could hear him, he was going to have to watch. He tried to shut his eyes but the horrors were still there. He followed himself around and saw where he had tackled Ivan and saw Rockholt save his life by pulling out the knife from his chest and throw it at Ivan. He had no idea that Rockholt had actually pulled the knife out of himself before now, he thought that Ivan had stabbed him but not left the knife in him. From that one image he gained a greater respect for Rockholt than before, it took a man that had a drive to live and save his men to do what he did by pulling that knife out, that was incredible. He watched as he helped Rockholt to his feet and listened as Rockholt told him to take him to the flag pole in the court yard. He walked behind afraid to watch what was going to happen next. He quickly turned and ran back to where Ivan lay and when he got there he saw Ivan get up, grab his revolver off of the ground and stumble to the court yard. “Captain look out!” It was no use, he could not hear him, and he was forced to watch from Ivan’s eyes Rockholt being shot all over again.
Barta woke panting with sweat all over his body, it was dark outside the window and he noticed that Kenway was beginning to stir. “I saw,” Barta was panting so hard it took him a moment to get his words out, “I saw Rockholt get shot again. I saw it through Ivan’s eyes and I could not do a thing about it,” his voice trailed off. “I witnessed the same thing but only I was watching from above. I was not myself, I was not anyone but somehow I was someone watching from above. It was a weird sensation.” Barta reached into his jacket and felt the letter still residing there, after the dream he was worried that he had lost it. He was worried of what to say when he delivered it, he did not know how you tell a mans wife that you saw her husband die right before your eyes after he saved you. Both he and Kenway knew Jane well and knew she was going to be at the airport to meet them because she thought Rockholt was coming home; they thought she had no idea that he was dead but they knew as soon as she saw them walk off of the plane and not Rockholt or Voss for that matter she would pick up on what was wrong.
War had brought freedom to a land but also cost another land a great man, freedom did not come free but Rockholt made sure no one had to pay anything for their freedom except him. That was his sacrifice. Hundreds and thousands of other men had given their lives to protect freedom, but Rockholt was different. He could have turned and gone home on his own but he was the superhero his son had taught him to be. He was Captain John Rockholt of Delta 8 and his legacy would live on.






























CHAPTER XXVIII

A secret so well kept can tempt even the greatest men into finding out what it is. Barta could not longer stand the temptation of not reading the letter. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled it out and held it up in the light. The paper was stained with blood in some spots and was wrinkled from all the action it had survived but it was intact. He slowly opened it and read....

My dearest Jane,

Life has been more than good to us but also more than cruel to us. I did not want to leave you alone in this world, but I had a duty to perform not only to my country but to you as well. I could not stand the thought of losing you; I came out here to protect you so that I may see you once again. Jane, I want to hold you, you are my princess and I became your prince the day you said yes to marrying me, now all that is left for us is to run. To run far way from this place and seek refuge among the stars and skies, to soar freely across the oceans and find the hidden treasures of the world creating our own adventures and adding to our love story.
Because you come to me with naught save love,
And hold my hand and life mine eyes above,
A wider world of hope and joy I see,
Because you come to me,
Because you speak to me in accents sweet,
I find the roses waking round my feet,
And I am led through tears of joy to thee
Because you speak to me
Because God made thee mine, I’ll cherish thee
Through light and darkness, through all time to be
And pray His love may make our love divine,
Because God made thee mine.
We did not go into that restaurant looking for love, we did not go there expecting anything to come from it; the cool thing was everything came from that night. Everything I ever wanted I found in you, I was not looking to find love right away, but there was no way to ignore the love you that radiated from you into my bosom.
You took my hand and told me to look above; I saw the stars and the moon that one evening so clear. As my eyes were above I caught glimpses of what was to come to pass, that you were mine and you had sought me out with love so pure and deep. Love is a four letter word that changed the world, love is who we are. Love is not a game but rather a journey of time and temperance, love takes two, and two can fall in love and become one. We are one, we became love the moment our eyes met, and nothing could have stopped the transformation of our spirits into one.
Jane when I look into your eyes I see the ocean blue,
Its waves crashing, its winds howling,
But always keeping me close to you,
When I look into your eyes
I see fields of gold
Shining and shimmering with the joy you bring to my heart
When I look into your eyes
I see everything
From the stars to the moon
To your sweetness that radiates life to my soul
When I look into your eyes
My love for you grows and grows
When I look into your eyes
It feels so right to hold you in my arms
When I look into your eyes
I see the sweetest of the sweet shenanigans we have made together
My knees buckle and my heart thumps,
Every time I look into your eyes
Forever and ever I want to look into your eyes
And tell you how much I love you
My heart thumps, my knees buckle
I love the feeling I get
Every time I look into your eyes.
Jane no matter where you reside, I will always be looking into your eyes and telling you how much I love you.
I have been longing to hear your voice because it is what keeps me sane, you calm me with it and you whisper words so sweet to my ears. Watching you walk down the aisle on our wedding day to the alter made me see that wherever you go happiness follows. I saw the roses spring up around your feet to meet the glorious rays you radiate, it does not matter what time of day or place you always have a glow about you that tells me you are mine.
I would be lying if I said I have never cried because I am so happy to have you in my life and that I was the man who was able to put a ring onto your finger. The day you became mine was the day I promised to cherish you and treat you with the respect you deserve. I may not always be a knight in shining armor but rather your husband in jeans and a t-shirt I will always seek to make you happy first. I may fall but you may rise and then I will rise to meet you because you always reach down and pull me up. We are a team and you have not forgotten that and I know you never will forget that.
Jane, I may not make it home for Christmas this year, if I do I may not be sitting next to you around the dinner table; but rather lying six feet under you. I am fighting my way back to you but if you are reading this I am not there to tell you all this in person and our worst fears have come to life. If you are reading this please don’t worry. I have found where soldiers go, I have come to find the truth of passing on and I am with god, both of us are watching over you. I now know that, that is why I am not afraid to die, but I am afraid that I was not able to give you one more kiss. Jane, I want to come home, but if I don’t I am home. I was there to see the birth of our son, but if you are reading this I won’t be there to see him grow up. Please let him know that his daddy loves him and please teach him to stand up for what he believes in. What a tragedy it would be for someone to tell him that his dreams cannot come true and for him to believe them.
I never knew if there was a heaven or a hell, but now I know and if you are reading this I am sitting on the swings in heaven waiting for you. I remember that on our fist date I waited for what seemed like an eternity at the time waiting for you to show up and when you did you apologized because everything you tried on you didn’t like. I don’t mind waiting on a woman, especially not my woman. Jane, take your time getting up here if you are reading this, I know it won’t be your time and you have so much you can give back to the world, if you are reading this I am waiting, but I don’t mind.
I am only going to ask, please remember me. My body may not be around you, but my spirit will always be with you. Love is unstoppable, it can weather any storm and it will always bring us back together. No matter the road we take, no matter the distance, love does not change. I have been pulled down by regrets and when the cold hard rain won’t quit and my faith is shaken, I have learned to get on my knees and dig down deep to find that love is unstoppable. Nothing will ever change the way I love you, nothing. Love is a helping hand when you need it most and it is the light house on the coast that is never going to go dim because I am finding my way back to you, I will always find my way back to you because you wish me home. Love will always make us whole, because love is unstoppable, love has conquered the impossible. With love we can do what we think is impossible, which is finding each other again. If you are reading this, I am not coming home but it does not change the fact that our love is unstoppable.
As I have been out here in this war I have seen how fragile life is, how families have been torn apart with no warning. If you are reading this I am not coming home with a dozen roses and I won’t be wrapping my arms around you again for a while. If you are reading this, this was the last day of my life. Time was a thief to us, but I promise one day I will bring you a dozen roses and I am going to wrap my arms around you and rock you all through the night because love is unstoppable and spirits don’t move on. I have come to believe in something bigger than the two of us, I have come to believe that if this is the end, it is only the beginning.
Jane there are so many things I regret not telling you before I came out here. If this is going to be my last day then I have to tell you what has kept me from loving you to the fullest extent I know how. Jane, I have another son. Right after we were married I had an affair with another women, I have no explanation as to why I did, because I love you and that is all I know. But it happened and because of that I have another son. I kept this from you to protect you but I realize now it was to protect myself. I am so sorry. It was my worst fear that if I told you I would awake and feel that something was wrong. I would then search the house to find out what was wrong and when I would call out your name and you would not answer back and it would hit me like a ton of bricks what was wrong. Jane, please, I am sorry.
If you lose your faith in me, please keep your faith in people.

The man who truly loves you,
John Rockholt


Barta was shocked, Rockholt had another son! Yes the letter was beautiful and full of love but he had another son! He contemplated the situation for over an hour staring at the letter and re-reading the last part of Rockholts’s confession; he decided that Jane could not know about that, he had to hide that from her. He could not judge Rockholt because of the sacrifice he had made and manning up and wanting to be honest with his wife but Barta was not going to let things be ruined for Jane. He wanted her to remember her husband as a hero. He searched the cabin lockers in the plane and finally found some paper and a pen; he was going to take these matters into his own hands. With the illumination of the small over head light he began to re-write the letter word for word...

My dearest Jane,

He stopped, would Jane know his hand writing? Would she be able to tell that it was not her husbands hand writing? It was a risk he was going to have to take.

Life has been more than good to us but also more than cruel to us. I did not want to leave you alone in this world, but I had a duty to perform not only to my country but to you as well. I could not stand the thought of losing you; I came out here to protect you so that I may see you once again. Jane, I want to hold you, you are my princess and I became your prince the day you said yes to marrying me, now all that is left for us is to run. To run far way from this place and seek refuge among the stars and skies, to soar freely across the oceans and find the hidden treasures of the world creating our own adventures and adding to our love story.
Because you come to me with naught save love,
And hold my hand and life mine eyes above,
A wider world of hope and joy I see,
Because you come to me,
Because you speak to me in accents sweet,
I find the roses waking round my feet,
And I am led through tears of joy to thee
Because you speak to me
Because God made thee mine, I’ll cherish thee
Through light and darkness, through all time to be
And pray His love may make our love divine,
Because God made thee mine.
We did not go into that restaurant looking for love, we did not go there expecting anything to come from it; the cool thing was everything came from that night. Everything I ever wanted I found in you, I was not looking to find love right away, but there was no way to ignore the love you that radiated from you into my bosom.
You took my hand and told me to look above; I saw the stars and the moon that one evening so clear. As my eyes were above I caught glimpses of what was to come to pass, that you were mine and you had sought me out with love so pure and deep. Love is a four letter word that changed the world, love is who we are. Love is not a game but rather a journey of time and temperance, love takes two, and two can fall in love and become one. We are one, we became love the moment our eyes met, and nothing could have stopped the transformation of our spirits into one.
Jane when I look into your eyes I see the ocean blue,
Its waves crashing, its winds howling,
But always keeping me close to you,
When I look into your eyes
I see fields of gold
Shining and shimmering with the joy you bring to my heart
When I look into your eyes
I see everything
From the stars to the moon
To your sweetness that radiates life to my soul
When I look into your eyes
My love for you grows and grows
When I look into your eyes
It feels so right to hold you in my arms
When I look into your eyes
I see the sweetest of the sweet shenanigans we have made together
My knees buckle and my heart thumps,
Every time I look into your eyes
Forever and ever I want to look into your eyes
And tell you how much I love you
My heart thumps, my knees buckle
I love the feeling I get
Every time I look into your eyes.
Jane no matter where you reside, I will always be looking into your eyes and telling you how much I love you.
I have been longing to hear your voice because it is what keeps me sane, you calm me with it and you whisper words so sweet to my ears. Watching you walk down the aisle on our wedding day to the alter made me see that wherever you go happiness follows. I saw the roses spring up around your feet to meet the glorious rays you radiate, it does not matter what time of day or place you always have a glow about you that tells me you are mine.
I would be lying if I said I have never cried because I am so happy to have you in my life and that I was the man who was able to put a ring onto your finger. The day you became mine was the day I promised to cherish you and treat you with the respect you deserve. I may not always be a knight in shining armor but rather your husband in jeans and a t-shirt I will always seek to make you happy first. I may fall but you may rise and then I will rise to meet you because you always reach down and pull me up. We are a team and you have not forgotten that and I know you never will forget that.
Jane, I may not make it home for Christmas this year, if I do I may not be sitting next to you around the dinner table; but rather lying six feet under you. I am fighting my way back to you but if you are reading this I am not there to tell you all this in person and our worst fears have come to life. If you are reading this please don’t worry. I have found where soldiers go, I have come to find the truth of passing on and I am with god, both of us are watching over you. I now know that, that is why I am not afraid to die, but I am afraid that I was not able to give you one more kiss. Jane, I want to come home, but if I don’t I am home. I was there to see the birth of our son, but if you are reading this I won’t be there to see him grow up. Please let him know that his daddy loves him and please teach him to stand up for what he believes in. What a tragedy it would be for someone to tell him that his dreams cannot come true and for him to believe them.
I never knew if there was a heaven or a hell, but now I know and if you are reading this I am sitting on the swings in heaven waiting for you. I remember that on our fist date I waited for what seemed like an eternity at the time waiting for you to show up and when you did you apologized because everything you tried on you didn’t like. I don’t mind waiting on a woman, especially not my woman. Jane, take your time getting up here if you are reading this, I know it won’t be your time and you have so much you can give back to the world, if you are reading this I am waiting, but I don’t mind.
I am only going to ask, please remember me. My body may not be around you, but my spirit will always be with you. Love is unstoppable, it can weather any storm and it will always bring us back together. No matter the road we take, no matter the distance, love does not change. I have been pulled down by regrets and when the cold hard rain won’t quit and my faith is shaken, I have learned to get on my knees and dig down deep to find that love is unstoppable. Nothing will ever change the way I love you, nothing. Love is a helping hand when you need it most and it is the light house on the coast that is never going to go dim because I am finding my way back to you, I will always find my way back to you because you wish me home. Love will always make us whole, because love is unstoppable, love has conquered the impossible. With love we can do what we think is impossible, which is finding each other again. If you are reading this, I am not coming home but it does not change the fact that our love is unstoppable.
As I have been out here in this war I have seen how fragile life is, how families have been torn apart with no warning. If you are reading this I am not coming home with a dozen roses and I won’t be wrapping my arms around you again for a while. If you are reading this, this was the last day of my life. Time was a thief to us, but I promise one day I will bring you a dozen roses and I am going to wrap my arms around you and rock you all through the night because love is unstoppable and spirits don’t move on. I have come to believe in something bigger than the two of us, I have come to believe that if this is the end, it is only the beginning.

Barta stopped and looked over his work, now he only had to change the confession, or leave it out all together. He folded the newly written letter and folded it into thirds placing it back in the same envelope he then took the original letter and placed it in the sink, he then talked to the captain and got his lighter from him and burned the letter in the sink, destroying all trace of it, Jane would never know, she could never know.
CHAPTER XXIX

Captain John Rockholt was claimed a victim of the war on July 4, 2040, on July 6, 2040 another strike team entered the area and stormed the camp that he along with Barta and Kenway were held only to find it deserted. If Rockholt had waited just a few more days he would still be alive along with Mctavish. But he took action to free his men because he knew that if he did not they would have died in that camp. He did not know about the other team coming in to liberate that camp, he did what he had to do and the consequence was he was killed in action but along with saving Barta and Kenway’s lives he saved the lives of hundreds of other people.
The war laid waste to Japan and its people, they were devastated both physically and financially. A week after Rockholt was killed the war was coming to a close, officials of both countries met and signed a peace treaty and Rockholt was not there to witness it. The war had claimed countless lives but none like Rockholt. He was a man of dedication and perseverance; you did not tell Captain John Rockholt that something was impossible because he always found a way to make it possible. There were many who wanted to leave Rockholt behind but he is not a leaving kind. He may be dead but he still lives on.
The war was another black mark on the world’s recorded history but still the world moved on. The United States of America was victorious in the war but they also claimed no victory in the war, they could not when they had lost countless men and women to the war. Within time both countries moved back to their lands and went on, the United States of American actually contributed money to Japan to help them rebuild their torn lands and get their country running again and in return Japan freed the United States of American from all debt they had with them. In the end peace was found, but within peace was another dream, peace was no where to be found within many.
The war had been fought to keep peace, Japan wanted revenge but the United States of America wanted peace, which is why they raged war back. There now stand two graves in Japan in the mountains where the camp was, one Vincent Mctavish, the other Captain John Rockholt; his body would not be going home. Many sons buried their fathers in peace before the war but as soon as the war started the fathers were burying their sons. The war had left the world in silence as every war does when it is over.
For everything there is a season,
And a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate,
A time for war, and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

The time had come for the war to be over and so it was but the time for sorrow was just beginning. The war did not mark the end of the world only the beginning for a new generation to rise and learn from the mistakes of their fathers.







































CHAPTER XXX

The time had come, they were home. Barta and Kenway slowly walked off the plane at the Salt Lake City airport. They walked through the long hallway and when they rounded the corner everything seemed as a movie, their families ran to meet them and they caught their wives holding them close and letting them cry into their shoulders. It was magnificent to be home and know they would not have to leave their families for war again, and that is when Barta looked up and saw Jane and Vincent standing out in the crowd as people walked around them hurrying to get to their designated flights.
Barta let go of his wife and moved around her, he held his head high and began to walk to Jane. Every footstep he took pounded in his head, every breath was muffled, everything around him was shut out of his head, he heard every one of Jane’s tears fall and hit the ground as he slowly moved towards her. He stopped in front of her and pulled out the letter and handed it to her; Jane took it and whispered her thank you to Barta. He then bent down to be eye level with Vincent, “Your father was the best man I knew.” Vincent looked up and fighting back tears of his own he squared his shoulders, “My father is still the best man I know.” His little voice was shaky but strong. Barta smiled and stood back up and looked at Jane. “Thank you for getting me this letter.” Barta did not respond immediately, that was the letter he had changed, “You are welcome. John ordered me to get that to you, I was not going to let him down.” Jane hugged Barta, “And you didn’t let him or me down.” As Barta hugged her back he could not help think if he had done the right thing or not.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The President of the United States was in South Jordan, Utah only to honor Captain John Rockholt and his family. Rockholt’s body was buried in Japan but Jane insisted that he got a burial at home and Barta and Kenway fought to get him honored. Hundreds had shown up, friends, family, and every officer and soldier that knew Rockholt, they were all there to show their respect for Rockholt and to give their condolences to Jane. Everyone who came got together and donated money to Jane to help her with all the expenses.
When Jane stood up with Vincent holding her hand and began to walk to the front of the congregation everyone stood up and saluted her. She climbed the steps to the small stage that had been set up with a closed casket to her right and turned and looked out across the crowd and studied individual faces. There were so many she knew and many that were new to her but she was grateful for the support that everyone gave.
“Thank you for all coming, it is nice to see how much all of you care.” Jane could not keep her emotions back anymore. “These past few days have not been easy; losing John, well it is not easy to say goodbye.” The crowd was quiet, not one moved they just all listened solemnly to the words being spoken. There were many there that knew what Jane was going through because they had lost a loved one to the war.
“There is nothing and no one that can replace what John was to me because he was my love and he was everything to me. I fear that I will lose my way without him here but have come to find that he is here, I just have to look for him.” Jane bowed her head not because she was ashamed to cry but because John was standing right next to her and telling her that he was there and that he would always be there for her. She turned and looked into his face, it was perfect, even his scar was gone and he had no wounds. “Jane I have found what has been missing in our life together. I have found what comes after death and how we can be together forever.” Jane turned back to the congregation, “I know that this is not the end but only the beginning.” The sun made her tears glisten, it seemed as though they were under the ocean because everyone’s face was wet with tears and the sun was making their tears as crystals to.
It was a sad day but the weather was perfect and every time the soft breeze came through each person heard something different, but none the less they could all hear Rockholt. Through all the tears smiles were forming as memories came back of Rockholt, of the man he is, of what he did for everyone at his funeral, of what he gave to the world.
Again everyone stood up as the President of the United States stood up and escorted Jane back to her seat and then walked back to the podium. “Today we see the cost of freedom and today we are still free. It has come to my attention that Captain John Rockholt of Delta 8 went above and beyond the call of duty to serve his country and to protect his men. He did not have to do any of what he did. No one asked of him to run back into battle on his own and no one asked him to die. But he gave willingly and because of that we can all sleep a little easier tonight knowing we are free. It takes a nation to fight for freedom but it takes one man to show a nation the true meaning of being free. I award the Medal of Honor to Captain John Rockholt for his extraordinary acts to serve his country and to protect freedom and liberty at all costs. Captain John Rockholt made the sacrifice of not being the hero, but yet he was something more; Captain John Rockholt was an American soldier.”
The President slowly walked back to where Jane and Vincent were sitting, he knelt down and handed the medal to Vincent. “Your father would want you to carry that for him.” Vincent was speechless, he did not understand everything that was going on but he understood that his father was being given an award. The color guard then proceeded to shoot their rifles in synchronization and a young man played the national anthem on his trumpet as the flag draped across the casket was folded neatly and handed to Jane who hugged it close and let her tears fall.
Jane, Vincent, Barta and Kenway all stood at the edge of the grave sight as the casket was lowered into the ground. When it was done Vincent bent down and picked up a handful of dirt and let it slowly trickle through his fingers onto the casket. “I love you dad.” Jane could see how much Vincent had learned from his dad and knew that he would be ok. They all four turned and walked away and all looked to the future that was before them. They did not know what new adventures were waiting for them and they did not know what hardships were lurking in the shadows, but they did know they could conquer anything because Captain John Rockholt was with them. If one looked just right they could see five people walking away from the grave sight, Rockholt is not the leaving kind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Life was different at home for Jane and each day Vincent looked more like his father. He was growing and he stood strong and tall as though he was ready to stand up for what he believed in without any question. It had now been three months since she lost her husband and in that three months she had learned many things but still felt something was missing. She kept looking back to what John told her about how he found what was missing and she had no idea what he was talking about but she was determined to find it. And it came to her. Three months and two days after her husbands death to the date a knock came at her door. When she answered there were two young men in suits and ties with name tags at her door. “Hello, my name is Elder Ellis and this is Elder Karr. We are missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. We have a message from Jesus Christ we would like to share with you.”
This was her answer, she felt it. Hearing that young man talk her heart was calmed and every feeling of discomfort she had was gone. Jane smiled, she was happy; she now knew what John was telling her at his funeral, “I have been waiting for you, please come in.”