Purple Heart

In the depths of the cold, dark sea, nothing is as it seems.

It's a place of chaos and mystery. Cold and untamed, by the forces surrounding our emotions and serving as a mirror for our inner selves and the universe.

Yet, there’s no calm in this evening’s tides. No peace in the sound of the breaking waves. Underneath the choppy surface this evening are eight men. Men focused on the shore. Focused on the weight upon their back. Focused on the mission ahead and the chaos that is found upon land.

Beneath the canopy of stars, there's an invisible predator that lies within the sea of green. The tropical flora, the challenging terrain. A predator that wants us dead at a moment's notice and won't think twice about taking our lives.

I intentionally slow my heart rate and my speed. Feel my feet hit the bottom of the coastland, and my men slowly move and surround me the closer we get to the shoreline. We’re like a well-oiled machine. Already in place. Already armed and ready.

There’s no second-guessing. No change in plans. This unit is built for stealth. We were built to be precise. And we do it all with speed, secrecy, and accuracy.

We start slowly but efficiently, lifting out of the murky sea into the dark beaches of Colombia. Searching for our target. Searching for what looms just ahead in the darkness. Within the trees of the jungle and the heat of the night.

Our steps are silent. Our movements fluid. I motion for Rooster to break off to the right. Snooky to the left. Two men follow each. Which leaves me with only Beetle and Wink. I wouldn’t have it any other way, and we all know this jungle by heart and what needs to be done if one group doesn’t make it to the meet point.

Intel told us to move in four kilometers and go around the bend. There’s a waterfall that marks the spot where the Americans are being held captive. A cave behind the falls itself. It's where the video streams were being sent from. It's where the heat signatures are still.

It's our job to find those soldiers. It's our job to get our fallen men out. Only then will the air raid commence. Only then will the rest be taken down. The ones responsible for everything. The ones who are responsible for the counterterrorism attacks against our country.

It's time to let them know who they're really dealing with.

I hear the smallest of sounds right off my left flank. Anyone else would have kept going. Never noticing within the sounds of the trees. The noise of the jungle. But I’m trained to notice everything. Hear everything. Even the smallest of grunts.

Wink has stopped and won’t move. His eyes are wide, and nowhere near the calm blue they usually are. He's frozen in place, and for once I see real concern in those eyes. Without moving a muscle, he carefully looks down at his feet. I kneel to see the moon shine off a fine wire. So thin you could knit a sweater with it. It shines copper under the bright moonlight, and I know in my gut we better work quickly.

It's a hair-like trigger wire that's now pulled tight against his boot. I carefully run my finger over it. It's tight, and any sudden movement either way can set anything off. Kill all of us without blinking an eye. Beetle brings a small log and leans it oh so carefully against it. Same pressure as Wink’s boot.

I feel sweat start to run down the side of my face. Not sure if it's because of the humidity or the stress I now find myself in. I usually look death in the face and laugh, but this is my best friend and part of the team. We've had each other's backs for years.

They both look to me for guidance, and I take a deep breath, wipe my brow, and silently nod. He slowly but carefully starts to pull back off the trigger wire and stops. I look up. His body freezes, and his face turns towards the wind.

That's when I realize... the wind has shifted. And on it comes the distinct smell of sweat. We've got to move and move fast.

Before Beetle and I could stand from our crouched positions, a quiet whirl comes from the depths of the jungle. Wink’s upper body silently jerks, and he looks down. He grabs his chest in quiet anguish and nods his head. Telling us to move.

Telling us to go.

He jerks again. Blood now oozes out of the corner of his mouth as another bullet hits him straight in the chest. I see it in his eyes a moment before it happens. The decision he made. The solemn look of surrender and resignation to his fate. His blue eyes no longer bright but haunted.

My heart, which is usually locked tight during a mission, cracks wide open at the sight, and Beetle pulls my arm.

We notice a split second before we are ambushed. Beetle and I move as fast as possible to take cover behind the vast number of trees, away from the impending doom, knowing he won't go down easily. As Wink now salutes with a bloody hand our way and lifts his foot to hit the trigger wire for the second time.

Only this time it's on purpose.