Page 102 - 2023-bfw-FLL-2e

Most of us made the final leg of the journey she’d been gone herself. It was the closest I got
5
alone. When mine ended at the Tampa Interna- to crying to my parents.
tional Airport, there was no celebration waiting for Six months later, I emerged at the Tampa 25
me. No screaming spectators or clicking flashbulbs, airport. I had been in transit for eight days,
no important hands to shake. The air wasn’t filled including nearly 24 hours of straight flight time
Narrative
with patriotic music or glitter blowing off home- from Afghanistan to Turkey to Germany to
made signs. I didn’t need to elbow through throngs Baltimore, where I had sleepwalked through
of camouflage to find who I was looking for. a few-hour layover. My internal clock was
I’d been gone 349 days. From Afghanistan, stuck halfway around the world. My head was
I emailed my family frequently and called straining through a thick fog to make sense of
when my work schedule, the 12-and-a-half the sleek terminal and bright windows, people
hour time difference, and third world technol- in civilian clothes, neon restaurant signs, the
ogy allowed. I’d shielded them from much. I discordant symphony of music and newscasts
didn’t talk about the creeping fear that even and flight updates, the missing weight against
50 pounds of body armor couldn’t keep away; my thigh where my pistol should be holstered.
the local attacks that sent ripples of paranoia I felt like I was on another planet.
through our tiny, vulnerable compound. I Then I saw my family. My six-foot-two
didn’t mention the frustration and hopeless- brother was easy to spot at the end of the
ness that clouded daily operations, each small terminal ramp. Next to him was his girlfriend,
victory overshadowed by corruption, violence, holding a small American flag, and my parents,
or bureaucratic red tape. I didn’t admit my straining against the security rope. All my senses
isolation — even on a base crowded with sol- zeroed in on them. My mom yelled, “There she
diers, contractors and local Afghan workers. is! There’s Lauren!” Then I was seven years old
Once, in a phone call, Mom told me it was and running into her arms, crying into her hair.
harder for her having me deployed than when And for a moment, the world was perfect.

e
extending beyond the text
the
xtending
beyond
te
xt
Even though she served actively in Afghanistan, Johnson spends less than a paragraph on
Even though she served actively in Afghanistan, Johnson spends less than a paragraph on
her time there. Read the following excerpt from War , by journalist Sebastian Junger, who
spent 14 months embedded with soldiers fighting in Afghanistan. Unlike Johnson, Junger
includes vivid details of combat.
from War

Sebastian Junger
There had been some contact earlier in the day, and Second Platoon spotted what they
thought was an enemy position on top of Hill 1705. A twenty-five-man element, including
two Afghan soldiers and an interpreter, left the wire at Phoenix in early evening and
started walking south. They walked in plain view on the road and left during daylight
hours, which were two things they’d never do again, at least not at the same time. They
passed the villages of Aliabad and Loy Kalay and then crossed a bridge over a western

200
Uncorrected proofs have been used in this sample.
Copyright © Bedford, Freeman & Worth Publishers.
Distributed by Bedford, Freeman & Worth Publishers.
For review purposes only. Not for redistribution.

06_SheaFLL2e_40926_ch05_130_243_6PP.indd 200 28/06/22 8:57 AM