Did everyone here in the States have a safe and sane 4th of July? We always have idiots who pop off illegal fireworks. Jake, having been shot at before he was rescued, freaks out. I don’t freak out but it pisses me right the fark off. Especially when it starts two weeks before, goes two weeks after, and they do it past my bedtime! We also have a couple of younger vets who have moved intp the neighborhood and they are also sensitive. PTSD. It’s a real thing, people! That makes today’s snippet rather apropos. The Thursday Threads prompt was **“I should have been there.”** And it was perfect for an early scene in CROSSFIRE. It’s pretty self-explanatory.
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As the team settled in at the bar, Kin was drawn to that wall. His eyes lingered on a few photos and his breath caught on one that looked brand-new and shiny in its plain black frame.

“Dougal.” He breathed the name, unable to speak it aloud. When he could move again, his gaze sought out the bartender. “When, Callie?”

The man, wearing a face that stated he’d seen it all, lifted a pint glass toward the wall in a solemn salute.

“’Tis a couple months gone now. Didja not know?”

Kin shook his head but before he could answer Loch stood beside him. “We’ve been on deployment,” the Irishman explained. “What happened?”

Despite feeling slightly irritated, Kin was grateful for Loch’s interference. He needed to know but he couldn’t force himself to ask. Dougal. His brother-in-arms since they’d been wee scalawags in short pants playing at war at his Gran’s farm in the Highlands. They’d enlisted together, trained together, and fought in the SAS together. Then they came home. And Dougal changed.

He hadn’t talked to the man who’d been closer than any blood relative in two years. Guilt flooded him, even though he’d tried to stay in contact.

“Where did they put him?” Kin asked.

“He was behind on his rent and the landlord went to collect.” The bartender answered Loch first. “Dougal’d been passed at least a week. His weapon was still in his hand.” His eyes held infinite sadness as he turned to Kin. “Tayport. His sister’s doin’. She’d tried.” He swept the room with one hand. “We all tried. There was just no gettin’ through to him.” He poured three glasses of Glen Fiddish and pushed two across the bar to Kin and Loch before picking up the third.

“I know ya probably like your Irish whiskey best, lad, but I think you’ll find our single malt scotch suits just fine.” The three of them raised their glasses to all the portraits on the wall then drank.

“Aye,” Loch agreed. “I am a whiskey man when I’m not downin’ Guinness but that’s a smooth drink goin’ down. I’ll be buying a round for m’mates.”

Kin continued staring at the photograph. His voice was strangled as he forced out words. “I should have been there.”

The next morning, Kin made the hour-plus drive to Tayport, there where the River Tay was about to introduce itself to the North Sea. He didn’t go alone.
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There you have it. And yeah, PTSD, depression, and mental health in general is important. We need to take care of ourselves. And we need to reach out–FOR ourselves and TO others. Sermon over. Writers, feel frea to grab some inspriation and run with it. Readers, what should you have been there for?