Link: Every Day Is Your Last Title Page and Description

CAUTION - Highly Emotional Content
CAUTION - Violence

--

We mourned with Heather and Rich when they got the news about her not being able to have any more kids. She and Rich wanted more, but things are the way they have to be, right? That's what Jack always used to say. They moved north that fall while Rich worked at fixing up the big house.

They surprised Jenny and I when they told us they were going to give the little house to us. No rent meant Jenny could quit and I could open my own salon with her as my office manager. So in spring of ninety-nine, just after Faith's first birthday, we moved to be with Heather and Rich in Pittsberg.

Meanwhile, Jack and Erica had their own share of troubles. She caught an ectopic pregnancy three months after Jenny and I moved, days after Heather's twenty-fifth birthday, that nearly killed her. She had a radical hysterectomy that saved her life, but meant they too would only have one child. Rich and Heather flew all four of us down there, staying nearly a month, but we had to come home eventually, leaving Jack and Erica alone again. Judith broke her promise and tried tearing them apart, and Frank separated from her over it, though they reconciled after... well...

Things were never the same after that. They never came back to visit us in New Hampshire. Jack couldn't leave his business and Jenny and I couldn't leave ours, and Heather had her practice, so that trip in summer of ninety-nine was the last I ever saw Jack or Erica. We kept in touch, but not enough.

Then everything changed... for everyone.

---

Rolling over, Jack fumbled around for the light beside his bed. Turning it on, he finally was able to see the phone that was waking him with the sun not even up yet. Grabbing it, he grumbled, "Whoever this is, this had better be good..."

"Jack? It's Rich. You need to get up and turn on a TV."

"What?" Jack grumbled. "Rich, it's six in the morning here! I have work in two hours and I need sleep!"

"Jack! Just shut up and do it!" Richard barked. "Please!"

Shaking his head, Jack got up. "Fine! What channel?"

"Doesn't matter, Jack." he said in a fog.

Erica sat up and looked at him. "Jack? What's going on? Who is it?"

"A dead brother-in-law if he dragged me out of bed for anything less than an alien invasion!"

"Richie?" she said getting up and wrapping a robe around herself. "What does he want?"

"Dunno." Jack turned on the TV and it came on to the news channel it had been on the night before. "What the hell, Rich? A fire in New York? This is what you woke us up an hour early for?"

Erica walked into the living room just as the commentator said, "Another... uh... vehicle, some kind of an aircraft, crashed into the World Trade Center. This is uh, no accident. This is no bomb from inside... uh... this is, as you put it, a terrorist attack. There's no two ways about it."

Hardly able to breathe, Jack just stood there silently, watching the towers burn while he began to burn inside.

"Jack!" Erica clung to him as if her life depended on it; tears starting to rain down her cheeks.

"Rich?" Jack said after a few minutes listening to commentary while sirens blared in the background. "You still there?"

"Yeah, Jack. I'm here."

When the network ran the footage of the second attack, Jack's face hardened into a fury while Erica turned away, unable to watch, and leaving to go hug their child still sleeping in their room.

"Rich? Remember way back when I said if we joined up we might get sent off to war? You told me we weren't at war anymore. Well, we are now!"

Sighing as he turned and looked at Heather, little three-year-old Faith holding her as her mother cried, he nodded. "You gonna do it, Jack? Go back in?"

"Damn straight I am, Rich! Aren't you?"

Looking at his family, Richard answered. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I am, Jack."

Brooke pulled her uniform out of the box she'd packed it away in, at the time utterly convinced she'd never see it again.

"Brooke! You can't! They won't take you now!" Jenny yelled.

"What they don't know won't hurt 'em!" Brooke snapped as she unfolded her uniform jacket and lay it across the ironing board. "As far as the Marines are concerned, you're just my Office Manager."

Jenny stormed up to her. "So that's it? After almost four years together you're just going to sign up again and leave me?" she yelled through tears.

"I have to, Jenny!" she yelled back. "For you! For Heather and Faith! For Erica and Eric and Frank and even Judith! This is war, Jenny! You think they'll stop at killing a few thousand of us? Damn it, Jenny! You once said you were proud of me and what this represents!" she held up her uniform jacket. "I'm a Marine, damn it! Not a hairdresser! I'll always be a Marine! If you can't accept that then you never loved me at all!"

"Why does it have to be you, Brooke?" Jenny asked as tears began to fall.

Brooke calmed herself and lowered her voice. "Because it's the responsibility of everyone who's able, to defend the lives and liberty of those who aren't. Most Americans can't defend this country, Jenny! They lack the training and the drive. You, Heather, Erica, you're fine people, but you're not Marines. Jack is. Richard is. So am I. I... I'd hoped you would understand."

Jenny wrapped her arms around Brooke, laying her head on her shoulder. "I'm just so scared! I... I don't want to lose you!"

"I'm not a Grunt, Jenny! I'm an electronics tech!" Brooke tried to ease her fears. "I'll probably end up being stationed somewhere stateside, but I'll do my part! Even if I'm not fighting, I can take the place of a Marine who can. How many Marines might not come home because one man was here doing my job instead of over there, just so I could stay here with you? If I sat here and did nothing while other Marines died, it'd haunt me the rest of my life!"

Pulling away, Jenny forced herself to stop crying. "I... I understand. I don't like it, but I... I can't keep you from being the woman I fell in love with."

Brooke resumed her task. "Will you be here when I get back? When... not if."

"I don't know." she answered. "I don't know what I'll do while you're gone."

Closing her eyes to keep her emotions in check, Brooke nodded. "I see. I suppose I should be grateful you stayed with me this long."

Confused, Jenny pieced together what Brooke was really asking and shook her head. "No! That's... that's not what I meant, Brooke! I mean, I don't know what I'll do with myself! If I can't be your receptionist, I can't just hang out here doing nothing but pining for you! I'll go mad!"

Looking at the woman who's own father promised to perform their marriage ceremony when they were ready, Brooke sighed. "You could get an office job, maybe a place in Pittsberg or Clarksville? You're a good manager! Or you could move back down with Mom and Dad for a while." She stopped ironing and went to her, wrapping Jenny in her arms. "I'll be fine! You'll see! I'll call as often as I can and I'll be home before you know it!"

Jenny held her as tightly as she could manage. "I... I remember! No surprise homecomings though! I want a warning this time!" she laughed.

Holding the love of her life tightly, Brooke nodded. "I promise, Jenny! No surprises! I love you!"

While Jack packed his old seabag, Erica stood by, helping as she was able.

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?" she asked, handing him one of the uniform blouses he'd pulled out.

"It's a two year cruise Buttons, but I'll get Leave. You remember the drill! Don't know when I'll be stateside, though." Jack answered honestly as he continued to pack.

"What about the business?" she asked, standing back and just letting him pack on his own, the action seeming to help calm his anger.

"You'll have to sell it while I'm deployed." Jack sighed resignedly. "Damn shame, too. We were just taking off, but the lease alone would eat up all the assets over two years with no one to run it. Can't afford to pay a cleaner and manager and continue to pay off the business loan. No one would work as cheap as me, so running it without me won't save it."

"Part of me doesn't want you to go," Erica admitted, "but the rest is so proud of you for it!"

"I think I like that!" Jack smiled. "Makes me feel all noble and stuff!"

Looking out the window of their bedroom, Erica saw their three-year-old playing in the sandbox in the back yard with April, the little girl from down the street. "Eric will be in Kindergarten before you come home." she mused absently, not even aware she was speaking. "He might not even remember you, except from pictures. I'll have to make sure to talk about you, a lot!"

Stopping a moment to look out the window with her, Jack nodded with grim determination. "He's one of the biggest reasons I'm going. I have to make sure nothing like this ever happens again! I don't want him growing up in a world that's too scared to live!" Anger filled his heart all over again.

"I know, Jack." Erica paused and looked at the floor. "I... I'll miss you! Every minute of every day until you come home to me!"

"And I'll miss you, Buttons!" he half-smiled at her. "No matter where they send me, a part of you will be there, too! And I have to come home to you! You'd kill me if I didn't!"

Laughing even as fear threatened to swallow her, Erica tried not to let it turn to tears. "You'll be careful?"

"No! I won't be careful." he stated defiantly. "The only careful Marine is a dead one." Turning back to her after he closed up his bag, Jack looked her in the eyes with the most serious look she'd ever seen in him. "I'll be a killer. I'll make sure I come home by killing every enemy that threatens me. Until there is no enemy, but peace. That's the Rifleman's creed."

Taking him in her arms, Erica held him desperately. "You do what you need to do to come home to me, Jack!" she cried. "I love you so much!"

"I love you, too!" he said softly, holding her just as fiercely as she held him. "My Buttons!"

"My Jack!" she replied. "I have a confession to make! I've had a crush on you since I was ten!"

"Who, me?" he answered back. "Come on! Grab Eric and you two can drive me to intake! That way I'm not away from you two a second more than I have to be!"

Jack walked into the Marine Recruitment Center in Costa Mesa days after the attacks and the day before his thirtieth birthday. He was quickly re-enlisted as a Lance Corporal once more, signing up for a two-year cruise and assigned to the Twenty-sixth Marine Expeditionary Unit. A week later, he was sailing for the Suez Canal and war.

Richard drove his car up the driveway to the little house on a mid-October morning. Honking as he pulled to a stop, he watched as Brooke came out, hugged and kissed Jenny goodbye, and finally tore herself away and jogged to the car before the snow started again.

Slamming the passenger door and buckling in, Brooke sighed. "Let's roll!"

Pulling away, Richard nodded. "Good choice of words." he noted.

Hours went by in total silence as Richard drove them to Concord where they would be re-enlisted into Active Service for two years. Neither one spoke more than absolutely necessary until they got close. Finally, Brooke broke the silence.

"Heather OK? Did she fight it?"

Richard shook his head. "Nope. She hated putting her practice on hold, but she promised that, for me, she'd take care of Faith while I'm gone." He smiled weakly. "She told me that if I could put my career on hold because raising our daughter ourselves was that important to me, she would honor my service by doing it for me until I get back."

Brooke shook her head. "Did she make you cry, little man?"

"Can it, POG!" he ribbed her. "Grunts don't cry! Our tears and other bodily fluids are saved for watering the graves of the enemy with piss!" He drove a little further before he asked, "Jenny put up a fight?"

"She did at first." Brooke admitted. "In the end, she knew this was something I had to do." She smiled briefly. "That woman loves being the girlfriend of a Marine! And she sure can show it!"

Richard smiled at that before it got quiet again. "Heard from your old man or mom since nine-eleven?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"No." Brooke answered sadly. "I wrote them, and called twice after, but they just hang up and won't write back so..."

"Sorry." he expressed his sympathies. "Your old man sounded like a good Marine from what Jack told me."

"He's a stubborn, mule-headed, dirty-rotten son-of-a-bitch! Of course he's a good Marine!" she joked. "Where do you think I get it?"

Just as Brooke had expected, after she signed up for active duty once more, she was assigned to Marine Wing Support Squadron three-seventy-three for the Eleventh Marine Aircraft Group in Miramar; a stateside assignment.

Since he now had a college degree, Richard was offered the chance to be an Officer, but he refused as it would be more time away from home and wasn't why he re-enlisted. He refused to be away from Faith and Heather for one day longer than necessary to get the job done, so instead, just a few days short of his thirty-first birthday, he was assigned to the newly formed Forth Marine Expeditionary Brigade Antiterrorism unit. He would be deployed to Afghanistan a month later as part of Task Force India.

Richard sat in the back of the HUMVEE as it made its way quickly through the crowded streets of Kabul. He wiped sweat from his brow as the desert sun and close confines of the vehicle threatened to cook him alive. The driver sped down the streets just ahead of the armored Jeep Cherokee they were escorting, clearing a path toward the US Embassy that had been abandoned since nineteen eighty-eight. Over the radio he heard someone shout, "Slow down!", but the driver of the vehicle shook his head.

"No way I'm slowing down and letting these ragheads get close enough to toss a frag in here!" he quipped.

Richard tapped him on the shoulder. "We have to keep the charge in sight, Private! Slow up!" He quickly turned and leaned to look through a window at the following vehicle as it entered the traffic circle they'd just traversed, suddenly cut off by a wagon being pulled by a donkey and coming to a halt. "Stop!" he shouted. "The Charge is cut off!" As the driver squealed tires on the pitted pavement, his squad immediately went to ready position, rifles shouldered with muzzles pointed downward; each one ready to race out and rescue the person they were ordered to protect.

Richard could feel his heart in his throat as he pulled his sidearm, judging the fighting distance too close for his rifle. People moved past the military vehicle like a sea of humanity, none smiling. He was about to order the driver to double back when the cart finally started moving out of the road and he could see the Jeep Cherokee start to move once more. "Clear!" he shouted, causing the driver to floor it and race off ahead once more.

Moving to the back of the vehicle, he saw the following vehicle closing with theirs just as a tiny yellow taxi ran up to within feet of the rear bumper of their HUMVEE. Richard pulled his weapon once more in preparation for an attack while the Cherokee raced up to them and cut sharply in front of the cab, sparking flashing lights and a horn honking in irritation. While it was just an impatient driver, the terror he'd felt when the cab ran up behind them made Richard see the HUMVEE driver's point. "No stopping through the next Roundabout, Private! Anyone gets in your way? Blast through!"

"Affirmative!" the Marine shouted back.

Reaching their destination, Richard became suspicious. Grabbing the radio, he ordered, "We're bypassing the Embassy! Drive on and we'll circle back! Spotters watch for anything suspicious! Over!"

"Roger." came the reply over the radio. Circling the abandoned building, they eventually made their way to an adjacent field; the huge metal doors of the front gate locked closed with concertina wire topping every wall.

Spotting a solitary Afghani ahead, Richard pointed. "There! Pull up!" The vehicle slowing next to the man, Richard noted that he was dressed like a western businessman in a suit and tie. He was also the only Afghani he'd seen that day that was smiling at their presence. Another similarly dressed man opened the makeshift driveway, pulling aside a spike strip that they'd put in place. Richard watched them as they pulled through when he caught sight of something even more rare, a young Afghani woman holding a clipboard and wearing a normal American-style dress and no burka. The young woman shyly marked down each vehicle as it entered.

Pulling to a halt, Richard barked, "Deploy!" and their vehicle emptied in a second. One man moved the crewed gun position on top of the HUMVEE to point it at the entrance of the compound, ready to send hundreds of fifty-caliber rounds into anything that would threaten them. Moving his squad up, Richard nodded to the Embassy Guard Marines that had already taken up their post. Handing over his Military ID, he collected a visitor's badge and looked with pride at the Marine guidon that was posted. Taking his squad past the 'Clear Your Weapon' barrel, Richard spat in it.

Behind him he heard, "No way I'm unloading my weapon so long as I'm in country, Embassy or no!"

"Affirmative!" he replied. Making their way into the building, the sound of broken glass echoed as it crunched under their boots, the scent and taste of dust in every breath. The place was like a time capsule. Half-smoked cigars sat in ashtrays where they'd been abandoned when Richard was still eighteen and in jail and Jack was in a coma; a photo of then President Ronald Reagan still hanging on a wall. After clearing the room, Richard saw something that nearly made him cry with pride. Folded neatly, an American flag that had been removed from a locked vault in the basement sat waiting to be flown again. Moving over to it, he noticed a hand-written note and read it aloud.

"Marines, take care of it. For those of us that were here, it means a lot. For those of you who enter Kabul, it could mean a lot to you. Semper Fi. We Kabul Marines endured as I’m sure you will. Think of us as needed."

"Ooo Raa." someone said quietly.

"Alright, split by teams and begin your sweep! Move!" he ordered.

After securing the building, his squad got the detail of sweeping up the floors and moving trash out. They piled up dirt, dust, and broken glass around the floor. Some time later, Richard stood outside the building when that same American Flag was once more raised to fly in the cold Afghan wind.

Jack stood as Corporal of the Watch at the Embassy in Kabul, having flown into Kandahar the previous December, and then deployed with nearly eighty other Marines to secure the embassy in preparation for its re-opening. He saw Richard arrive with the Ambassador, his half-smile the only outward sign of seeing of his oldest friend who he hadn't seen since August two years earlier when he and Erica lost their second child and the hope of having any more. He immediately went back to his duty, seeing to it that all military IDs were checked and re-checked.

Hours later, Jack was finally relieved and took some time to write his letter home. Setting it aside among his personal effects to mail later when he was somewhere more hospitable, he set out to find Richard. Walking the halls of the almost empty building, he saw something that nearly made him laugh out loud. Richard was pushing a broom down the hall, making another sweep of dirt and dust that had accumulated over the many years. "What's the matter, Sergeant? Couldn't find any Snuffies to do that for you?"

Richard knew who was asking before he even looked up. Pursing his lips and coming to a sudden halt, he slowly raised his head. "Jack, you son of a..."

"Ah!" he interrupted as he leaned against a wall. "No salt on duty, Sergeant!"

Leaning the broom against a wall so it wouldn't fall over, he slowly walked up to Jack. "I could always get you to do it, Corporal!"

"Not a chance, Rich!" he smiled his half-smile. "I'm off duty... and not even in your chain!" He pushed off from the wall and stood in front of Richard. "So... what's up?"

Richard smiled and wrapped his brother-in-law in a tight hug, each slapping the other on the back. "God! It's good to see you, Jack! How did you end up here?"

"I got here first, slowpoke!" Jack retorted. "I'm with the twenty-sixth MEU. We took Kandahar and then about eighty of us were ordered here to secure the place before you showed up doing babysitting duty!"

"Oh, you think you got it so hard?" Richard retorted. "You guys are shipping out soon! We're gonna be stuck here for months!"

The two started walking back down the hallway together. "Oh, yeah! Hard duty! Sitting cushy behind metal doors and enough wire and emplacements to guard Fort Knox! Can't the Embassy Guard do your job?" The two happily bantered back and forth for a while before Jack asked, "So when do you go off duty?"

"I've been off for an hour!" Richard laughed. "I got bored and I wanted to help get this place ready... so..."

"So you decided to pilot a push-broom? Wow!" Jack laughed. "Come on! I'll introduce you to some of the guys!"

Two hours later, they were both in the back of a HUMVEE laughing as they recalled various stories from their childhood. On a lark, they'd decided to volunteer for vehicular patrol around the area near the Embassy, along with two members of Jack's unit, just so they could spend more time together. The sun had set by the time they pulled out, making the cold of winter bite a little harder. Richard found himself wishing that, for just a few minutes, he could be back in the hot HUMVEE he'd been in several hours earlier.

"Damn, it gets cold out here at night fast!" Jack commented to nobody in particular. "Not like The Sandbox. Remember that, Rich?"

He nodded and chuckled. "Yeah! Hot as hell and twice as unfriendly!"

"So, did Hathaway go back in, too?" Jack asked after a lull.

He nodded and looked away. "Yeah. She got sent to Miramar. Lucky girl!"

At that, Jack poked his head up. "Miramar? MWS-three-seven-three?"

"Yep." Richard nodded. "She got a nice and safe stateside assignment fixing generators while we're busting our rumps here!"

"Don't count her lucky yet, Rich." Jack shook his head. "I heard they may be deployed to Bagram later this year! Security cleared a Lieutenant from there to go check out the field and see if they can use Harriers there."

"Bagram? That old Soviet airfield?" Richard balked. "Jack! That's right on the edge of controlled territory! You sure?"

He nodded. "Positive. Man, Jenny'll go ape shit if they deploy there! Oh! Heather! Man, her husband, brother-in-law, and Maid-of-Honor all deployed at the same time? She'll be the one needing a shrink!" Pausing a moment as he saw the worry on Richard's face, he changed directions and tried to set his best friend's mind at ease. "Of course they may not deploy there. From what I hear the place is a disaster area. The runway's so cracked they're thinking of using it as an example of how not to build an airfield!"

Laughing briefly, the two looked at each other silently before Jack broke it. "How's Heather and Faith? Heard anything from them since you shipped?"

Richard nodded his head as the HUMVEE turned a corner sharply and sent them both leaning to one side. Recovering, he tried to answer again. "Yeah, they're fine, just miss me. Heather took a two-year sabbatical. Faith asked a few ticklish questions about where I was going and when I'd be back. Damn, but if that kid didn't make me almost change my mind! She was so cute and sad when I told her I wouldn't be back for her fourth birthday!"

His best friend nodded in understanding. "Same thing with Eric! He's quiet for a three-year-old boy, though! I remember raising hell when I was his age! Playing in the mud, running through the yard yelling at the top of my lungs! But not Eric. No, he'd rather play in his sandbox or do other things with his girlfriend!"

"Girlfriend?" Richard balked. "At three?"

"What can I say, Rich!" Jack grinned. "He takes after his old man! That same charming power over the ladies! Poor little girl didn't stand a chance, what with my charm mixed with Erica's good looks! But yeah, seriously his best friend's this girl named April that lives down our street. Those two are nearly inseparable! They glommed onto each other about a year ago. See, she lives about halfway between our house and Dad's place, so every time we'd walk by, Eric would have to stop and play with her for a minute or two. He does everything with her now!"

"Dad's place? I thought Mom was talking about moving back in?"

"Yeah, well as far as I'm concerned, the old witch doesn't count!"

"I thought you and Mom buried the hatchet?"

"I did, but she's still trying to bury it in our marriage!" Jack huffed. "When Erica got that ectopic pregnancy, she goes and blames me for it! Like it's my fault Erica and I can't have any more kids! We're more torn up over it than she is! She hardly even tries to see Eric anymore! Dad's over every weekend for Sunday dinner, though."

Shaking his head, Richard looked out a window at the few lights they could see. "I'm sorry, Jack. Mom took Heather's loss badly, too. She blamed the surgeon that did her C-section for a while, but when Heather stood up to her about it, she let it go. Maybe it was just too much for her when Erica couldn't have any more kids, either. I dunno. Maybe you're right. I still can't believe she lost her shit over Brooke and Jenny the way she did!"

"Ah!" Jack waved his hand dismissively. "Makes no difference to me. I'm used to her hating me, but you shoulda heard her, Rich! She thinks God is punishing all of us because we're accepting of Jenny and Brooke! What galls me though is how she takes it out on Eric by avoiding him. Poor kid! As bad as she ever was to me, she's still his grandma! He should be dropping by her and Dad's place seven days a week for cookies! Instead he gets a grandma with a chocolate chip on her shoulder!"

Richard was about to comment on how lame Jack's joke was, but he never got the chance.

TO: Erica Dunning - Newport Beach, California

It is with a heavy heart that I regret to inform you that your husband, Lance Corporal Jack Dunning, was killed yesterday in an attack on a patrol vehicle protecting the American Embassy in Kabul, Afghanistan. Corporal Dunning distinguished himself by volunteering for the duty.

I know this will come as little comfort to you in this time of grief, but I took the time to review his record before sending you this letter. Your husband was the epitome of what it means to be a Marine. He served with distinction in the Gulf War, returning home to serve at Alameda NAS where he retired in June of '96. His reserve status had ended more than a year before he volunteered once more to fight for his country at its greatest time of need. It takes a special kind of man to twice put his life on the line for his country, and I am saddened that he paid The Last Full Measure to ensure that you and his son would never know fear from an enemy aggressor again.

While it is not my responsibility to do so, I also wanted to advise you that Sergeant Richard Hargrave, who I have come to learn is your brother, was in the vehicle when the improvised explosive device was set off, killing both men instantly. You will be receiving another letter of condolence soon from his Commanding Officer. Words cannot express my sympathies or the depth of sorrow this single act of hate has wrought on you and your family. Rest assured that my command will do whatever it takes to see to it that the people responsible are brought to swift and final justice.

Your husband's personal effects will be returned to you as soon as feasible. Due to the nature of their deaths, two empty caskets will be flown back to be interned in Arlington National Cemetery for their final rest.

May God grant you the strength and perseverance necessary to see this time of sorrow pass.

Col. Andrew P. Frick C.O. 26th MEU