Professional Documents
Culture Documents
The Way To A Man's Heart
The Way To A Man's Heart
The Way To A Man's Heart
qualified me to find out why a fit, six-foot tall kid with angry hair
turned up dead and naked in the Iraqi desert. Aside from the
Iraq. And once you’ve gone to war, no matter what the reason, you
an indication I would be filing the next five days in the vault of the
brain responsible for separating action from reason or, god willing,
In this case, a twenty one year old was dead and his family would
Not even when a disbelieving voice called the 1st RAR asking
the family phone still gets answered by the second ring. Not even
three years later when hope casts a shadow into an empty room full
of clean clothes. When you join the 1st RAR you sign a twenty-seven-
****
Ocean to the sound of green rivets, clattering their way through the
and myself, waiting to see the Middle East for the first time. No in-
know the name of the young soldier I was about to cut up. According
around and go back, but it was too late. The military never goes
2
retreating... admitting wrong. Accepting defeat. Not medal worthy
behaviour.
matched up, but most of them were upside down and backwards,
television, not a week ago, I watched the Prime Minister walk around
Baghdad airport with a smile crowding out the rest of his features.
every occasion.
Squinting into the bleached canvas of the Middle East, I was led
to the morgue, one of the only walled structures among the tents
refrigerate a tent, and the large air conditioning units on the side of
with glazed silence. Right, of course. Top secret. Must have been on
I tried another angle. “How did you find him… other than
naked?” I pried.
“I didn’t… someone found him the next day. On his back.” She
the door. She sat down, giving me a disinterested look, “I’ll wait
outside”.
like fear, but looking around the complex, everything seemed safe
attack or scrutiny.
Entering the room, I closed the door behind me. For the next two
hours, I would be the last human being to spend time with this
Next to the body, the instruments for autopsy were laid out on a
document sticking out the side like a tongue. Great. When is the
C/o was the abbreviation for ‘complained of’ and I wondered what
4
physical ailment had troubled this soldier prior to his death.
of injury. A bullet wound, about three ribs below his right armpit,
ago.
As there was no exit wound, the most difficult task was to find
the bullet by tracing the path it made through his chest cavity. It
would take me at least an hour and a half, and before I settled into
head out the door. The sergeant still sat on her camouflaged chair,
The air outside the morgue was only slightly better than the air
inside.
“My orders are to stay here with you,” she interrupted, shifting in
her seat.
rather get started, and the coffee helps the, um… the smell.” As she
“No, I’ll get you one.” she said, departing with a defiant stride.
jagged like her - the only visible weakness, a desire not to show
I pulled my head back into the room, and stood over the body,
looking for any sign of bruising I hadn’t seen before. There was no
bruising on the soles of the feet, but that was normal for a soldier
ammunition.
wasn’t right about it all. Maybe it was just my inner feelings about
of the young guns in the army used to joke, saying, “The army is
great, we get paid to travel the world and meet interesting people…
make contact. I’m invisible here. Talk to the politicians back home,
****
6
information that might help me do my job and get the hell out of
here. The crotchety Sergeant said they found him the next day in
would have sliced through the cartilage with ease. I could expect to
door. My soapy right hand slipped as I turned the knob. Shit. I tried
again with no luck. “My hands are wet. You mind letting me out?” I
yelled, my face an inch from the door. A few seconds later, the sun
smirked.
Bullshit.
she got the upper hand. Milk buffered the habit black coffee had of
mustered.
My only rebuttal was to leave her there, staring out at the drab
landscape, wondering how she ended up here, and why she blended
****
the chest cavity, allowing me to pick up the path of the bullet on the
stomach, a capital city among the blood vessel map of the serosa.
Even if the bullet had missed the stomach, I would have cut it open
made sense. Ulcers. At least five, strung out along the folds and
8
creases of the inner stomach like oozing craters. That would explain
by the military issue hot-box dinners, not to mention the war. Poor
eye on the unusual thing, half expecting it to retreat within the body
like a strange, visceral animal. Blinking away the opaque fog the air
body, getting a firm grip on the edge of the odd discovery. I guided
it out with forceps, until I could get a good look at it… a wedding
ring.
on the worn, inner curve of the golden band, ‘Johnny and Sarah
forever.’
One thing I hadn’t considered until this point was how the bullet
had entered the body, under his arm like it had. Johnny’s arm was
positioned over his head when I came into the morgue, allowing me
clear access to the entry point, but judging by the position of the
“Why did you have your wedding ring in your stomach, Johnny?”
“And why did you get shot if you had your arms up?”
I sat the ring down and resumed the task of finding the bullet.
Deeper into the chest, I could see a hole in the pericardium, the
cut deep into Johnny’s heart before the scalpel found the bullet for
me, wedged between the left and right atria of the heart, right in
the centre.
rhythm, the stomach acid would have killed Johnny within a few
organ damage.
I placed the bullet into a small, stainless steel bowl and began
in there.”
It didn’t look like Johnny had gone through any torture, except
see a small piece of fabric stuck to the soft lead tip of the bullet.
Using tweezers to extract the piece of cloth from the bullet, I fixed it
came into focus I could tell this was a rough-hewn fabric, perhaps
10
linen. Johnny was wearing something when he was shot, and it
when he was shot, and wasn’t found until the next day, his skin
Wait.
into view…
ADI
The finding made me queasy. The whole desert scene painted itself
believe.
Defence force. Johnny had been shot by one of his own comrades,
The family would never see my report, but this soldier was no
something I could do, something right. Sure, I might risk being court
about.
****
few more days until she was all too happy to lead me back to a
plane waiting to take soldiers home who would never be the same.
All the way to the plane, I thought of that ring, jingling away in
dress down and blend in. Act on my own behalf. I had to find a
peace of mind.
Johnny. I wondered what kind of man he was, and what kind of food
12
inside him. I wondered why a shot was fired at anyone with their
hands above their head no matter how they were dressed, and how
that Australian-made bullet knew that the best way to that man’s