Canada. Canadian Armed Forces - For your tomorrow: the way of an unlikely soldier

111170 | 040707

PUBLISHED BY RANDOM HOUSE CANADA

Copyright 2011 Melanie Murray

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Published in 2011 by Random House Canada, a division of Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Distributed in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited.

www.randomhouse.ca

Random House Canada and colophon are registered trademarks.

are a continuation of the copyright page.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Murray, Melanie Mae, 1950
For your tomorrow : the way of an unlikely soldier / Melanie Murray.

eISBN: 978-0-307-35980-3

1. Francis, Jeff, 19702007. 2. Afghan War, 2001Participation, Canadian. 3. Canada. Canadian Armed ForcesOfficersBiography. 4. Afghan War, 2001CasualtiesCanada. I. Title.

DS371.43.F73M87 2011 958.1047092 C2010-907197-2

v3.1

T O J EFF

Many serve and so few are recognized.

Lt-Gen (Retired) Romo Dallaire

But who is set up for the impossible that is going to happen? Who is set up for tragedy and the incomprehensibility of suffering? Nobody.

Philip Roth, American Pastoral

J ULY 1, 2007. The fireworks explode in a fountain of lightflamingo, orange, purple, goldand fade into the darkness. Theyre cascading over Okanagan Lake, several kilometres away. But we can see them from the deck, through the leafy branches of the walnut tree.

Happy Canada Day! I raise my glass to Mica sitting across the table from me. She and her partner, Aaron, arrived in Kelowna yesterday, drove down from Yellowknife after completing a three-year teaching stint at the First Nations community of Rae-Edzo on Great Slave Lake. We clink our glasses. Ah St. Hubertus Gewrztraminer. The grapes grow on the hillside just a few kilometres from here, I say, swirling and sniffing, lychee and melon on the nose.

A hint of rose petal too, Mica laughs at our oenophile charade, reminding me so much of her mother, my sister, at thirty years olddimpled chin, freckles, long dark hair. And heres to Jeff. To his safe return in just a few weeks. She smiles, the diamond stud in her nose glinting in the candlelight. Her brother, Jeff, is serving in Afghanistan with the Canadian military. When I ask how shes coped with the anxiety of having her brother in a war zone for the past five months, she confesses her vulnerability. I havent told many people about him being in Afghanistan. On Easter Sunday, the day the six Canadian soldiers were killed, I really crumbled. We didnt hear their names for hours after it was first broadcast.

Three more soldiers killed just last week by another IED. I shake my head.

When Jeff was home for his mid-deployment leave in April, Mica got four days off and flew back to Halifax to be with him and their family. He made us feel so confident about his safety, she says, her eyes brightening. He said hell be staying in the same secure outpostthey call the Hoteluntil he returns in mid-August.

The spicy scent of walnut leaves wafts in the warm breeze. We sip our wine and talk about their trip to Vancouver Island the day after tomorrow. They will meet up with friends to hike the West Coast Trail, one of the most gruelling treks in North America. For seventy-five kilometres, it follows a rugged shoreline of spectacular ocean vistas, tidal pools, marine caves and the tallest trees in Canada. Then theyll drive their packed-to-the rooftop black Hyundai back home to Nova Scotia.

Their camping gear clutters the lawn below the decktent, sleeping bags, foamies, head lamps, rain jackets, camp stove. Under the lights, Aaron attempts to organize it into their backpacks. I dont know, Mica, he calls up, either half of your clothes stay behind, or we wont be taking much food.

We can eat salmonberries, she chuckles. Melanies been telling me that the bushes along the trail are full of them.

Yeah, and well dig for clams, steam them over a driftwood firego native, he grins up at us. No need to pack food.

Like two kids let loose for the summer, they exude the carefree excitement that comes with being on the roadyour hours and days defined by a map of Canada spread out before you.

O N J ULY 1, the sprawling military base at Kandahar Airfield morphs from a monotone of drab desert, brown buildings and tan tents. It flashes with red and white. Strings of Canadian flags decorate the railing around the boardwalk of the central square. Huge Canadian flags hang from the ceiling of the arena. In the Tim Hortons lineup, soldiers wear Canada Day T-shirts, red-and-white-striped hats, maple leaf ties and pins. Shouts and cheers ring across the square from games of volleyball, tug-of-war and water fights. The charcoal smoke of barbecuing hamburgers and hot dogs saturates the air.

For Jeff and his comrades, its a welcome reprieve from five months of outpost isolation and on-call duty, 24/7. Each of them is allowed two pints of beer. Under the shade of a striped canvas awning, they clink their plastic glasses: To Canadas one-hundred-and-fortieth birthday! They drink to their countrys contribution to stabilizing southern Afghanistan, the birthplace of the Taliban. A contribution with an enormous cost. In the past five months, sixteen of their comrades have been killedthirteen by IEDs.

And heres to the beginning of the end, Jeff says, smiling, the last full month of our tour. They raise their glasses, savour every swallow of the cold amber aleits hoppy aroma, foamy head, sweet malty taste and the lingering bitter finish.

A few days later, on July 4, the mid-morning sun blazes down on a convoy of armoured vehicles crossing a dusty desert road. Canadian and Afghan soldiers are returning to base at Sperwan Ghar, their early-morning operation completed.

In the gray light of dawn, they surrounded a Taliban IED cell, the bomb-making squad responsible for the deaths of three Canadians two weeks ago. A team of soldiers held the nearby mountain while their convoy rumbled up the road to the sleeping village, hoping to flush out the enemy. Forward Observation Officer Captain Jeff Francis was ready to call in fire support in case of an attack. The soldiers patrolled for hours through the sandy lanes and fallow fields. They knew they were being observed, but the Taliban remained in hiding. After a shura with the elders, the troops mounted their vehicles to head back to the base, tanks with minerollers leading the eighteen-vehicle convoy.

Now, in the commanders seat of his light armoured vehicle (LAV), Major Chris Henderson mulls over the mornings operation. He expected the enemy to spring a trap. The locals had tipped off the Canadians to prepare for one. He knows the Taliban were there. Why hadnt they shown their faces? The convoy is following the same route theyd taken earlier that morning to reach the village, a road watched by tanks and military police during the soldiers patrol. So IED threats are minimal, he reassures himself; an ambush is also unlikely on two infantry companies and a tank troop driving through open terrain. Still, hes uneasy.