A Soldier Finds His Way

by Irene Onorato

  They came to a group of five tents and stopped.

  “Sorry, guys, but this was the best we could do for you under such short notice.” Browning told them when chow would be served, said good-bye, and left.

  Dexter pulled open the flap on the nearest tent. “Not bad. Cots. Beats the hammocks in Nicaragua.” He went inside. Peanut followed.

  Alvarez and Sanchez paired up.

  Zook and Stanley disappeared into another tent.

  Edward bent to tie his bootlace. When he stood up, he was alone with Marcus.

  “Guess it’s you and me, LT.” Marcus smiled.

  “Where did Jackson and Greco go?”

  “Yonder,” Marcus said with his Southern drawl. “In that tent back there.”

  Lips clamped, Edward grunted, then marched into the remaining tent and slung his duffel onto the cot on the right. He shrugged off his ruck and dropped it onto the dirt floor.

  “Here we are, home sweet home,” Marcus said, smiling as usual.

  How could he be so happy all the time? How annoying.

  Edward smirked. “Praise the Lord.”

  From nearby tents laughter filled the air.

  Greco and Jackson shouted, “Hallelujah!”

  Chapter 27

  The letter leaned against the lamp on her desk, addressed, stamped, and ready to go. Or was it? Audra opened and read it once again.

  Dear Edward… All she wanted was to know why he left and why he did so with such palpable hostility toward her. Was that too much to ask?

  Her day planner lay open before her. Last Sunday, Edward walked out of her dreams and back into her life. Monday, her spirit soared with happiness she hoped would last forever. Then came black Tuesday, the day that triggered the deep depression from which she couldn’t seem to emerge.

  She came to a decision. Tomorrow, on her way to work she’d drop the letter into the mailbox and that would be it. Finishing the missive, she signed it, “Affectionately, Audra.” Perhaps Edward would get the message that she still had feelings for him. She licked the flap, sealed the envelope and put it in her purse.

  * * * *

  A chessboard sat on a cardboard box between the cots in Dexter’s tent. Edward pushed a pawn forward. “Your move. And don’t take all day this time.”

  Dexter hunched over the board and examined his choices. His hand hovered over his queen for a second before he laid a finger on it. “Hmm.” He withdrew his hand.

  “Chess regulations state that if you touch a piece, you have to move it.”

  Dex clucked his tongue. “Why can’t you play a friendly game of chess like a normal person? Fine. I’ll move it.” He pushed the queen diagonally a few squares.

  Edward answered with a swift move of his knight then waited for Dexter to realize what a perilous position he’d put himself in by moving his queen. But, Dexter wasn’t the sharpest player. His next move could take a while. Edward stood and stretched.

  The shadow of a man passed the side of the tent then turned the corner. Sergeant Browning stood at the doorway. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, looking at Edward. “Major Greco asked me to deliver this mail to your guys.”

  Edward took the small pile of letters. “I’ll take care of it. Thanks.”

  The sergeant nodded and left.

  The square pink envelope toward the bottom of the short stack stood out from the rest. With its shape, its color, it had to be from her. He thumbed through the letters and tossed one on the cot beside Dexter, but Dex was too busy with his nose to the chessboard to notice.

  “I’ll be back after I deliver these.”

  Edward left the tent and started walking. He pulled the pink envelope to the top. Sure enough, return address, Audra Lorenzo. A conversation in Spanish came within earshot. Alvarez and Sanchez.

  “Hey, just the guy I was looking for,” he said to Sanchez, who was closest to him. He handed him the mail, withholding the pink envelope. “Greco wants you to distribute these.”

  “Okay, will do.” Sanchez took the stack, and he and Alvarez continued toward the tents.

  Edward pulled the letter out of its envelope. Same white stationery as the last one she sent. The glare of the sun made reading the letter impossible. He ducked into the shade on the side of the motor pool building and leaned against the cool metal wall. After letting his eyes adjust for a few seconds, he read the letter.

  Dear Edward,

  The memory of the beautiful day we spent together is clouded by the events of the following morning. Your cold, angry eyes crushed my heart, and the revelation that you lied about your reason for leaving nearly finished me off. Yes, I know the unit wasn’t called up at that time. I overheard Hank talking to Major Greco on the phone shortly after you left.

  You gave me every reason to believe you were as drawn to me as I was to you. I don’t understand what made you turn against me.

  You hurt me, Edward. It was deliberate and precise. Can you at least tell me why?

  Affectionately,

  Audra

  Her letter didn’t paint a picture of a girl who had another guy tucked away in some tailor shop getting measured for a tuxedo. If he’d been able to control his anger that morning, maybe he could have asked her face-to-face if she was in love with another man. But why would her father—

  Nothing made sense. He tucked the letter in his pocket and shook his head. Déjà vu. Now he had another pink envelope to haunt his thoughts day and night.

  He went back to Dexter’s tent.

  Dexter looked up from the chessboard with a frown.

  “When a knight attacks two pieces at the same time it’s called a fork,” Edward said. “In this case, I’m attacking your queen, and your rook. It’s a no-brainer. Move the queen, lose the rook.”

  Dexter grumbled and moved the queen.

  “We’ll continue this game another day. Do you have any writing materials? You know, paper, envelopes?”

  Dex shook his head. “Since when have you ever seen me write a letter?”

  Jackson called from the tent next door. “I’ve got some, LT.”

  Edward accepted the supplies with thanks. He found a quiet spot at a table in the empty mess hall and started to write.

  “Dear Audra.” Two words down, a whole bunch more to go.

  Twenty minutes later same two words stared up at him while he tapped his pen on the edge of the table.

  The door squeaked on its rusty hinges.

  Greco came in, walked over and took a seat across the table. He laid eyes on Edward’s letter, sat back, and grinned. “I never thought I’d see the day I’d find you writing a letter. I see you’ve got the salutation. Need help with the rest?”

  Edward flipped the paper over. “What am I, twelve, that I need daddy’s help with a letter?”

  Greco laughed. “I saw you come in here about a half an hour ago. Two words? That’s all you managed to write?” He laughed again.

  “I’m glad you find my ineptitude at letter writing so humorous.” He tossed the pen on the table and leaned back on two legs of the chair.

  Greco folded his hands on the table, a sure sign he had no plans to leave any time soon. The smart-alecky grin was gone and the stare-down began.

  Edward clammed up and locked eyes with him.

  Greco was no ordinary commanding officer. A lot of men from other units had told Edward they wished they were under Greco’s command. Known as a man who demanded excellence and settled for nothing less, he also had a reputation as someone who took care of his guys, watched their backs, and took an interest in their personal lives. More than a top-notch officer, Greco was a good man and about as close a friend as Edward ever had.

  He dropped his chair forward with a bang. “I need more than just a little help with a letter.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “When you showed up at my apartment, I wasn’t in the mood to talk about what happened in New York. But now it’s been twelve days since
I saw her and I’ve wracked my brain trying to figure out what happened. Man, I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Start by telling me why you left.”

  “Her father asked me to.”

  Greco didn’t need to say anything. His furrowed brows formed a quizzical expression that asked Why?

  “Early that morning, I went out for a run. When I came back, her father was waiting for me looking angry and agitated. He told me Audra was getting married in September to a guy named Bradley Warren. He said I was a distraction, and he asked me to leave.” Edward flopped back against the chair.

  “The thing is,” he leaned forward again, “when she was with me she didn’t act like she was engaged to someone else.”

  The boss ran a thumbnail across his lower lip a few times as if he was formulating his next question. “Hank told me that when he asked Audra how your all-day date went, she told him it was the best day of her life. What’s your take on that day?”

  The truth burned like a fireball in his chest. “I felt the same.”

  Pots and pans clattered beyond the wall of the kitchen. Both men looked at the door that led to the back room where meals were prepared, then returned their attention to their conversation when things quieted down.

  “Then, today, I got this letter.” He handed it to Greco. “Go ahead, read it and see what you think.”

  Greco took it, read it, and put it back into its envelope. He slid it across the table with a smile.

  “What’s with the grin?” Edward asked. “Her letter attempts to vilify me as if—”

  “This letter is from a girl who is sticking her emotional neck out and begging you not to chop it off. She doesn’t have a clue as to what’s going on. She’s not getting married to Bradley what’s-his-face, or anybody else. Did you bother to ask her about it?”

  “No, because her father said—”

  “I don’t care what her father said, and I don’t care why he said it. Maybe he doesn’t like the uniform. Maybe he doesn’t like you. But, I’m telling you, Audra isn’t getting married. Period.”

  “But—”

  Greco palmed a stop sign. “Any other girl would have written you off as an insensitive jerk for leaving like you did. Yet, Audra persists in reaching out to you. And you want to know why? You want me to spell it out for you?”

  He braced himself for what Greco had to say.

  “This girl,” Greco tapped the envelope, “is in love with you.”

  Edward stood up, paced a few steps, then came back and stood behind his chair. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “What if I’m right?”

  That was a big what if. Greco looked so sure of himself. Relaxed, arms folded across his chest. Of course, it wasn’t his love life they were talking about, so what did it matter to him? But the boss wasn’t wearing his smug, I’m-smarter-than-you face. No. This was different.

  Edward slid back into his metal folding chair and picked up his pen. “How should I answer her letter?”

  “You say something like this. Dear Audra, early that morning, while you were still asleep, your father told me that you were getting married to what’s-his-name in September. He said I was distracting you from your fiancé and he asked me to leave. Paragraph.”

  Edward scratched out the words as Greco dictated. “Got it. Go on.”

  “I should have spoken to you in a more civil manner and verified that what your father said was true. For that, and for lying about the call of duty, I give you my sincerest and deepest apologies. Another paragraph.”

  Greco opened Audra’s letter and looked it over again. “Okay, add this. My feelings for you are genuine. I never led you on. Your letter gives me hope that your father was somehow mistaken about your attachment to the Bozo. The end. Then you sign off.” He leaned over and looked at Edward’s notes upside down. “Now, all you have to do is massage it, add your own scribbles and wingdings and make it your own. Did that help you any?”

  “Yeah, it did. Thanks. It says exactly what I wanted it to say.”

  “Good.” Greco stood and made for the door.

  “Hey, Dave.” Edward came around the table and offered his hand. “About the other day, when you came to my place. I want you to know I appreciate your coming to check up on me. I know at the time I didn’t act very appreciative, but it meant a lot to me.”

  Greco gripped his hand. “That’s what friends do. They pull you out of the holes you stumble into, kick you in the pants when you need it, and loan you twenty bucks when you’re broke.” He smiled his typical one-cheeker. “And they check in on you when everything in the world seems like it’s going wrong. You’re welcome.”

  Another couple of squeaks of the door and Greco was gone.

  Edward settled back at the table to work on the letter. He rewrote it, fixing the spelling and grammar, but left most of it intact. Little tweaks here and there and he was ready to sign off. No closing salutation, just Edward.

  This girl is in love with you.

  A momentary jolt of fear had zapped him when Greco said it. After that, something in the core of his being did the happy dance. Love. Something he’d never verbally expressed to anyone. Ever. How would it feel to stand face to face with someone and say those three words? “I love you.” It had to be the riskiest thing anyone could ever say to another human being.

  * * * *

  The deed was done. The letter was in the outgoing-mail drop box in Sargent Browning’s office. Edward left the building and went out into the waning daylight.

  Back in the tent Marcus lay on his cot reading. They swapped head-nod hellos then Edward dug in his duffel bag for his own book. A little rest and relaxation, or R and R sounded good.

  The tent flap rustled and Greco walked in. “I just found out we’ve got an early morning recon. Be in the command center at 0400 hours for the brief.”

  “Understand. Early morning recon, brief at 0400 hours,” Edward repeated.

  “That’s correct.”

  Official duty complete, Greco’s somewhat stiff posture relaxed. “I’m out of reading material. Got anything good?”

  Edward tossed over a thick paperback.

  “Horse Soldiers,” Greco read. “Looks good. Thanks.” He left.

  Lying on his back, book held above his face, Edward started to read. Quiet settled over the tent. A few pages later, he took a deep breath and sighed. “Stop looking at me.”

  Marcus laughed. “How’d you know?”

  “I felt a disturbance in the force.” Something told him not to look at Marcus, but he did it anyway.

  Marcus switched on the battery-operated lamp to brighten the fading light and sat on the edge of his cot.

  It was no use trying to read. Edward dog eared a page, closed his book and sat up to face the medic. “What’s on your mind, Rev?”

  “I was thinking about the conversation you and I had on the bus a while back.”

  Oh, no. Not that again. “What about it?”

  “We were talking about spiritual things, remember?”

  “Yes, and I suppose you’re going to ask me if I have a favorite scripture or something equally absurd.”

  Marcus laughed a bit. “Do you have a favorite scripture?”

  He stared at the holy man. To doink him in the eyes, Three Stooges style, or to slap him upside his hollow head would probably feel quite satisfying about now. Maybe something along that line would deliver the message for once and for all that he wasn’t interested in this sort of stuff. A quick jab to the nose, perhaps?

  “LT? Is something funny?”

  Edward blinked and snapped out of his musings. Had he been grinning?

  “I was searching my scriptural data bank,” he said, tapping his skull. “And, I’ve got a verse, but, it’s a Giordano paraphrase. It comes from Proverbs twenty-five, I think. It goes like this. Withdraw thy buttocks from thy lieutenant’s tent lest he grow weary of thee and hate thee.”

  Marcus
’s head fell back with laughter. “Good one, LT.”

  “What is it this time, Marcus?” Edward asked, his tone serious. “You want to discuss the plagues of Egypt? Dispensations marked by cataclysmic events? Or, would you prefer to talk about the fourth man in the fiery furnace? Whatever it is, let’s make it short and sweet.”

  “Do you consider yourself to be a good man?” Marcus asked. “And, by what criteria do you measure yourself?”

  “I think—”

  Heavy footfalls stopped outside the tent. Zook and Stanley’s voices interrupted the relative quiet of the night. Cigarette smoke wafted in through the tent flaps.

  “When I get home,” Zook said, “I’m going to Shiner’s, throw down a couple of brewskis and find me a girl who’s interested in a meaningful overnight relationship, if you catch my drift.”

  “I’m with you, man.” Stanley chuckled. “Even a marginally pretty, single-use, disposable girl sounds good. Real good.”

  They bellowed with raucous laughter.

  Edward bolted outside, ripped the cigarette out of Stanley’s lips and ground it into the dirt. “Go stink up someone else’s airspace, why don’t you. Go on, move it. And shut up while you’re at it.”

  The men vanished between the tents.

  Hearing Stanley parrot the phrase he’d coined himself was a mirror into the filthy recesses of his inner man. Single-use, disposable girl. It didn’t sound clever, or funny any more. It picked at the scab of guilt that covered his heart, exposing a raw spot. The thought of someone sidling up to Audra with those intentions made his stomach quiver.

  He turned back into the tent and came face to face with Marcus. “What?”

  Marcus kept his voice low. “Do you realize you curled your lip when Zook and Stanley were talking?”

  “So what?”

  “It wasn’t too long ago you’d have laughed along with them, maybe even joined in. But what they said just now disgusted you. And it should have.” A small smile lifted Marcus’s lips. “I see changes in you, LT. Small, but good changes. God is answering my prayers.”