I’ll Meet You There (38 page)

I walked over and slipped my arms around him so that my hands rested on his chest,
my head between his shoulder blades. I felt his heartbeat in the palm of my hand,
strong and steady. He put his hands over mine and we stood there for a long time,
gazing out at the land that had tried—and failed—to conquer us.

Up there, I could see how Creek View had finally taken its proper place within the
geography of us. It wasn’t quicksand or an insurmountable mountain, and it wasn’t
Afghanistan, with its poppy fields and bombs. It was just a place—a part of me, a
part of Josh, yes, but not big enough to define us. Not small enough to forget about.
Together, it would be easy to map out new territory.

A little bit closer to the stars, anything seemed possible.

Acknowledgments

And now for some epic acknowledgments. If this were an Oscar speech, I’d totally be
talking over the time-to-shut-up music.

Why did I write this book? And how the hell did I learn to curse so damn well? I come
from a military family: both my parents were Marines and I grew up tracing the faded
lines of my grandfather’s Marine Corps tattoo. Though I never served, I like to think
I have a little
oorah
in my blood. While the Army is well represented in my family, I’ve always been a
bit obsessed with the Marines. Their culture is fascinating, and, let’s be honest,
they have the best uniforms (dress blues win hands down every time—ladies, you know
what I’m talking about). You don’t have to agree with everything about military culture
or the politics/acts of war to appreciate these men and women. I myself struggle with
many aspects of what we do and why we do it. But getting to know the Marines and Soldiers
who helped with this book and delving deeper into my own family history have opened
my eyes to a world I’d shut myself off from for a long time. This is the power of
fiction: more than anything, it was Josh Mitchell who made my heart bigger than I
thought it could be; as Skylar fell in love with him, so did I. And love changes you,
doesn’t it?

One of my earliest memories of my father is seeing him off the day he left to fight
in the Persian Gulf. We had a yellow ribbon around the tree in our front yard, and
near the end of the war I caught him on CNN, sleeping on a bench in Kuwait (true story).
That war was quick (for us) and seemed painless. But then my dad came home. He was
only thirty-one, but he’d lost most of his hair, his teeth, his weight, and his hearing.
He drank too much. Started doing drugs. He was sad. It took a long time for people
to figure out what Gulf War Illness and PTSD were. Back then, we didn’t know how to
talk about that. You were a Marine: you could take it. Right? It took me most of my
life to realize that there were war wounds that didn’t bleed. I wrote
I’ll Meet You There
for my dad and for every wounded warrior I’ve talked to or read about or heard telling
their story. I wrote it because when the Marine Honor Guard played taps at my grandfather’s
funeral and handed my grandmother an American flag it was sad, and awful, and beautiful.
I wrote it because young adults are being recruited for the military while they’re
still in high school and they need to know what war really is and what it means to
serve. I also wrote
I’ll Meet You There
for the Skylars of the world, the poor kids who count their pennies and have to grow
up faster than they should. To all the Chrises and Skys and Dylans of the world I
say this: it gets better. Love is medicine and dreams are oxygen.

So this is the part where I thank people. It took a village to write this book. First,
to the Marines and Soldiers who shared their experiences with me: it was an honor
to hear your stories and I will be forever changed and humbled by them. Your generosity
and openness about your service and such a difficult topic as PTSD is what allowed
this book to be what it is. Ryan D. Cooper, USMC: I feel like you and Josh would be
buddies. You were with me on this from the word
go
, and I have you to thank the most for helping me get into Josh’s head and for knowing
everything from how to get blood off of boots to how many guys are in a squad. Seriously,
you rock. Big hug to my BFF from elementary school, Kristin Grantis, for putting us
in touch. To Cpl. Frederickson D. E. (Ret.) 3rd Force Reconnaissance: it takes a real
badass of a Marine to be willing to read a love story and critique it so well. Thank
you for “batshit crazy functional” and other choice phrases, as well as for everything
you shared with me about your journey. Talking to you helped me understand the challenges
of adjusting to civilian life—once a Marine, always a Marine, right? CW2 Thomas Henderson,
Instructor Pilot (U.S. Army): thank you for giving me an idea of what it’s like for
a medevac pilot in Afghanistan and for not being weirded out by my very personal questions.
Your descriptions of Afghanistan, the people, and what it was like coming home were
gorgeous. Thanks to Timme Jacobs for putting us in touch. Kevin Hanrahan: wow. First,
let me tell the world how awesome you are. World, meet Kevin Hanrahan: he was a company
commander in Iraq and was the Deputy Provost Marshal for U.S. forces in Afghanistan.
While in Afghanistan, he played a huge role in spearheading the increased use of dogs
there and lobbied the Army to adopt an innovative and lifesaving explosive-detecting
dog program. He has served three combat tours and was awarded two Bronze Stars and
an Army Commendation Medal for Valor. This all makes me question my life choices.
Kevin, thank you for sharing your passion about military dogs (I’ll take them all,
please) and your personal story about life once you got home—your continued work on
behalf of military dogs and their soldiers is inspiring and SO IMPORTANT.

Now, for my family. My uncle, CW3 Michael J. Edwards (former Marine and currently
U.S. Army), for sharing stories of your (three!) deployments to Iraq. My aunt, Wendy
Edwards, Army Wife Extraordinaire and civilian who worked for the Marines as a Family
Readiness Officer and Readiness and Deployment Trainer: thank you a million times
over for answering all my questions about military leave, medical facilities, how
IEDs work, and all manner of other random questions. PFC Daniel J. Edwards, my cousin
who recently served at Camp Leatherneck in Kandahar Province, Afghanistan: proud of
you, cuz. Sgt. Carrie Fry (U.S. Army), for Pashto assistance and sharing stories of
your deployment in Afghanistan, and Sgt. Stephen Fry (U.S. Army), for that hilarious
reaction to finding out both my parents had been Marines.

This book wouldn’t exist at all, or at least not as you’ve read it, if it weren’t
for Shari Becker, Leslie Caulfield, and Jennifer Ann Mann. You gals saw Josh before
I ever did. You saw my heart and held it up for me and told me I wasn’t allowed to
look away, even though I was scared as hell. I will be forever grateful. Extra thanks
to David Fulk, for early input on the manuscript. To my agent, Brenda Bowen: here
we are again. Thank you for your astute reads and for reminding me to stay in the
writing cave. My editor, Kate Farrell: thank you for wanting to bring this story into
the world and for being so enthusiastic about my work. To everyone at Macmillan/Holt,
especially Ksenia Winnicki, Stephanie McKinley, and Samantha Mandel: I’m so glad you
have Josh’s and Sky’s backs. Amy (A.S.) King: you are boss and so were all your notes.
Thanks for being a kickass adviser on this, my creative thesis—shots of Jameson for
all! I was so happy to have you with me at the finish line for my MFA, reminding me
it was okay to ditch the learn’d astronomers of our world from time to time. Rita
Williams-Garcia: your wisdom on my first draft was invaluable and set me up for the
most satisfying writing journey I’ve had to date. Amanda (A.M.) Jenkins: giving you
a bear hug right now for bringing out the jarhead poet in me like no one could. Patricia
Lee Gauch: thank you for telling me to meet my own high standards, for teaching me
about ecstatic moments, and for early comments on the manuscript. Kathryn Gaglione:
for so much, but especially for getting me in touch with Drew, taking me to Arlington
on Memorial Day, and understanding why I was WAY TOO EXCITED to go on a tour of the
Marine Corps Museum. You are a gem of a friend. Sarah Roberts: kindred spirit and
endless support. Missy Wilmarth: say hi to the Navy SEALs for me (blowing kisses optional)
and give a big hug to Jared Wilmarth, PS2 (U.S. Navy).

All my friends and family: there are so many of you who have supported me in these
crazy past couple of years. Some of you fielded specific questions, offered encouragement,
listened to me vent, beta-read, or did any number of things—thank you. My Twitter,
blogger, Goodreads, and YA reader community: you make getting up to work every morning
a joy. Thank you for your support and enthusiasm. Wesley Hughes, the “Amp4Life” (
amp4life.blogspot.com
): thank you for your amazing videos on life as an amputee. Your generosity is astounding
and you helped me SO MUCH. This is what the Internet is for. My Allies: when shit
goes down, I want you by my side—we make one intimidating army. Thank you for being
my literary gun buddies. Group hug for the entire Vermont College of Fine Arts community,
my home away from home and second family.

To my husband, Zach—
I’ve got you.
Thanks for being my wingman. This book broke my heart again and again, but you were
always there to put it back together (TS&TM&EO). My mom, for showing me early on that
girls can play too. You taught me to hold my head high and never stop fighting, which
is why I’m here today, getting to Live My What. My dad, for winning the war inside
and for teaching me cadences (and how to curse like a true Devil Dog). Thank you for
sharing your story with me—I know it wasn’t always easy to go back there. And, of
course, my grandfather Dan Weeks, proud jarhead and first-rate Papa. I miss you every
day. You were the epitome of
Semper Fidelis.

To the men and women who serve, or have served, in the U.S. armed forces, and to the
families of those who have been killed in combat or died as a result of PTSD-related
injuries: each word of this book is a token of my gratitude for your service and an
effort to honor those who have been lost. I’d like to take an extra moment of silence
for the two former students at my high school, Clovis High, who died in combat: Spc.
Thomas J. Mayberry (U.S. Army), who was killed in Afghanistan when he was only twenty-one,
and Sgt. Steven M. Packer (U.S. Army), who was killed in Iraq. He was twenty-three
years old.

Finally, to the Joshes out there: I wish you sleep without nightmares, laughter every
day, cold beer on warm summer nights, and love—so much love.

Author’s Note

By the end of April 2014, there were over two thousand U.S. military deaths in Afghanistan
and nearly twenty thousand service members were wounded in action.
1
In 2012 alone, there were more suicides in the military than deaths in combat, and
most of those suicides were young men between eighteen and twenty-four years old.
2
As of writing this, more than half of the 2.6 million veterans of the wars in Afghanistan
and Iraq struggle with physical or mental health problems related to their service.
3
The VA continues to be underfunded, and many veterans fail to receive the quality
care they need.

Though I’ve borrowed from many, many sources, Josh is, first and foremost, a creation
of my own. However, despite being a fictional character, the challenges he faces are
very real, as were the experiences he recounts as a Marine in Afghanistan. Any mistakes
I’ve made here regarding the military or the war in Afghanistan are mine alone.

For further research, I recommend the following: David Finkel’s excellent books
The Good Soldiers
and
Thank You for Your Service
should be required reading for, well, everyone. I also recommend
Outside the Wire: American Soldiers’ Voices from
Afghanistan
, edited by Christine Dumaine Leche, which is a collection of essays written by soldiers
during their combat tours. I am deeply indebted to everyone who participated in and
worked on the absolutely phenomenal NPR series about the “Darkhorse” Marine battalion—in
fact, all of NPR’s journalism regarding wounded warriors, veterans’ issues, and the
wars in Iraq and Afghanistan is top-notch. You would do well to delve into their archives.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the other victims of this war: the men, women,
and children of Afghanistan. Simply put: theirs isn’t the story I’m telling. But it
is
a story I want to hear and a very worthy one—a necessary one. Trent Reedy’s critically
acclaimed YA novel,
Words in the Dust
, is a good place to start. Learn more about his incredible experiences as a soldier
in Afghanistan that inspired the novel, as well as the work he is doing on behalf
of women and children there, at
trentreedy.com
.

I have done my job here if
I’ll Meet You There
helps you, in some way, to not forget the Joshes in your community. Please join me
in supporting them by giving to the Wounded Warrior Project (
woundedwarriorproject.org
). This is a wonderful organization that is doing great work on behalf of men and
women like Josh Mitchell and their families. Why do we need to do more than read or
write a book? David Finkel says it best in
Thank You for Your Service
: “The truth of war is that it’s always about loving the guy next to you, the truth
of the after-war is that you’re on your own.”

Readers: We are the soldiers of the after-war. Fight on.

1
U.S. Department of Defense

2
NPR.org

3
Washington Post/
Kaiser Family Foundation