"I know," he answered back, looking at me intensely from across the table. "I know." Then his face faded into a blank expression and he drifted his eyes down to the surface of the table next to his cardboard food tray.

As the day wore on, Maj. Johns and I mostly stayed in the metal storage trailer we had been working out of. But not one soldier came in to talk. All efforts were focused on recovering the soldiers who were missing. And the soldiers at the patrol base could no longer justify their own sadness for themselves, as they knew their troubles paled in comparison to those of the missing men. And their sadness for themselves was turned into shame for ever having felt it, and they were sad for their missing brothers instead.

Helicopters landed and took off with increasing frequency throughout the day. Two had just landed and left again as Maj. Johns and I were walking between the barriers. As we began to emerge onto the walkway near our hooch through a back route among some generators and other equipment, I saw a blindfolded man pass ahead as he was being led by Iraqi Army soldiers.

"Stop," I said to Maj. Johns as he was about to emerge out onto the walkway in front of me.

I knew there would likely be more to follow. Maj. Johns stopped short of the walkway and I stood next to him. We watched as the blindfolded men were led in by the soldiers. The men wore mandresses and were barefoot. The bottoms of their feet were black with the dirt from their walking. Their blindfolds were rags of different colors. They passed before us in a line with each man behind the first holding his hand on the shoulder of the man to his front and with several Iraqi Army soldiers walking behind them all. One IA soldier walked in front of the blindfolded men, leading them into the building I called the planetarium and off into other rooms off to the sides.

Inside the planetarium two prisoners who had been brought in earlier sat motionless on the concrete floor with their legs crossed and their hands in their laps, blindfolded with their heads lowered. The bright ethereal beams of light which sometimes passed into the space from the mortar holes in the high arched roof overhead were nowhere to be found this day. These men sat in shadow. The Iraqi soldiers around them stood by them as more and more blindfolded men were led into the rooms behind them into the spaces controlled by the IA.

Back in the plywood hooch, Maj. Johns and I were alone.

"I've been thinking about the whole 324 thing," I said.

"I know," Maj. Johns said. "I could tell it's been bothering you these past couple of days."

"Yes, it has." I paused as he sat down at the edge of his cot facing me to hear what I had decided. "I think it is probably too hot of an area down there. Not that that is news. We've always known that. The rocket through the window and the guys being kidnapped are just a couple more examples."

Maj. Johns nodded in agreement.

"There were plenty of examples before those." I paused and looked away as he listened and then returned my eyes to his. "I've decided I'm not comfortable sending you down there." Maj. Johns' eyes narrowed and he nodded slightly as he continued to listen. "I spoke with Lt. Palmorello about it and as long as the road is not cut off they can get guys back to you for meds as long as you are down by the river at say, 262." Maj. Johns nodded. "But I won't allow you any farther out than that, regardless of what our command decides to allow."

"Okay," Maj. Johns said, and waited to hear the rest.

"I'm also not going to let Carpenter down there either." Maj. Johns' brow furrowed with concern as he sensed where I was leading. "If anyone has to go down there it will be me, not you guys."

"Hmmm," Maj. Johns said, raising his hand up to his lips and pinching them and then dropping his hand back onto his lap. He looked away for a brief moment and then back at me. "I don't agree with that."

"You don't have to," I answered and smiled back at him. "You're not the new OIC. I am. And besides, I've made up my mind and I would rather go down there myself and take the risk than have to go talk to your little boy someday. I couldn't live with that."

Neither one of us spoke for a moment. Instead, Maj. Johns looked at me intensely with an almost undetectable grin in the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I don't agree with that. That's all I can say," Maj. Johns added again. I tipped my head to the side raising my eyebrows and thinning my lips, at once acknowledging and denying his objections.

"I feel a lot better about things this way," I said, taking a sip of water from a plastic bottle that had been sitting next to my cot and shifting my gaze to a patch of plywood wall to his side. "Maybe our command won't want any of us down there once I brief them on things. But until I do that, or if they still want us to cover that area, I will refuse to let you guys go there. I'll be the one to go for the team."

"How do you think Carpenter is going to feel about that decision?"

"He's not going to like it," I answered. "But, again, he doesn't have to." I smiled again. "I'm pulling the OIC card," I said in a Boston accent. The OIC card reference was an inside joke on the team. Capt. Wilde had repeatedly made reference to his ability to "pull the OIC card" when making decisions which usually involved preferential treatment for himself or placing us at risk in his place on missions. "I guess I just decided the right decision is easy. I just imagine what Capt. Wilde would have done and I'll do the opposite," I said jokingly and smiled at Maj. Johns. He smiled back, shaking his head and then nodding, looking off onto the floor of the hooch.

Over the next several days, Maj. Johns and I continued to stay out at the patrol base. By the time we returned to Mahmudiyah, we had been there for almost two weeks. I had explained my position to Lt. Rivers regarding who, on our team, would be available to go down to the area around BP 324 -- that only I would be available for that AO for now and I would be briefing my command in the coming week about the situation there.

Eventually, one evening after dinner, Lt. Rivers let us know that we would be taking a helicopter back to Mahmudiyah. As we waited in a bunker by the LZ the wind picked up and it began to rain and lightning flashed in all directions in the darkening sky. Maj. Johns confessed to me that he had a fear of flying.

"But you're in the Air Force!" I said, laughing.

"I know," he said, and cringed as he looked up at the lightning in the sky outside the bunker.

"Don't worry, man, they won't fly if it's not safe," I said.

Five minutes later the rain had slowed and the birds landed. We ran out onto the LZ, strapped ourselves in and were airborne.