by Modou Fye
It was a Friday evening so seeing children playing in the park at that time of day while their parents watched was not out of the ordinary, he assumed. It seemed like everywhere he looked, couples were cozying up to each other. This made him smile. They all looked genuinely happy. He wondered if theirs were destined to be lasting unions or would they fall apart at some point. Was the divorce rate in Germany as high as it was back in the States? He watched the children play and was curious as to what life had in store for them. Would they grow up happy? Or would they be like the countless children the world-over he’d see on television programs; the victims of countless broken and unhappy homes, their innocence destroyed, and often forced to grow up faster than any child should have to. He also thought of one of the unfortunate consequences of broken homes, that being how oftentimes they beget new cycles of unhappiness, thereby perpetuating a seemingly unbreakable cycle of misery which is passed onto the lives of successive generations.
His heart was warmed by everything that he saw until he thought of Melanie and how much he missed her. That’s when an epiphany suddenly dawned upon him; he was very lonely.
As he leaned back on the bench, he noticed another bench that might have been seventy meters away from where he sat at an angle diagonal and to the right of him. Seated upon it was an old couple, arm in arm, and they seemed to be looking in his direction.
Ever since his arrival in Germany, force protection was a spiel he had heard every Friday before they were released for the weekend. “Always blend in with the locals and try to be as inconspicuous as possible in order not to make yourself a terrorist’s target,” Captain Peterson would brief them at Friday final formations.
Though dressed no differently than the local people, he still couldn’t help but wonder if there might have been something about him that made it all too obvious that he was a US soldier; if there was, perhaps that’s why the couple were looking at him. He didn’t believe that there was any telltale sign, other than his military-style haircut, but that couldn’t have been it as a baseball cap sat snugly upon his head and such caps were just as common in Mannheim as they were in the States. As far as he could ascertain, there really wasn’t anything striking about him that distinguished him from any other person. And it certainly didn’t seem likely that the old couple was some manner of secret operative duo, spying on him. There was absolutely nothing he could possibly offer them, nor any terrorist organization for that matter.
Around the couple children played, running back and forth around them. There were three, the oldest probably no older than seven. Grandchildren, perhaps. Turning his attention back to the couple, it appeared as though they smiled at him. When the lady waved to him, he knew then with all certainty that they were, indeed, looking at him. It couldn’t have been any other person as there wasn’t anyone behind him; the bench he sat upon was against a hedge. He waved back as he thought what a lovely and friendly couple that they would smile and wave to a stranger. However, there did seem to be a familiarity about them. But that would be absurd, he decided. Other than those with whom he worked, and of course his landlord and his wife, he knew no one else. Perhaps the couple seemed familiar only because theirs, too, was an interracial relationship just as was the elderly couple at the airport. This couple looked a few years younger than the couple at the airport but still old enough to be grandparents.
After spending a bit of time at the Water Tower, he decided that he’d return home. He had hoped to find meaning in what had happened the very first time he had looked upon the tower and why he felt so drawn to it, but his visit was in vain for nothing by way of an indicator as to the peculiarity of the place had manifested. As he rose he noticed that one of the children who played around the couple, a little girl, had fallen and appeared to have bruised herself on the knee. The lady went to tend to her; her husband, he presumed, had kept his eyes on him. Because of the bit of distance between them, he couldn’t be certain but he felt as though the man looked at him quite intently, like one observing Jaden’s every action. Jaden thought nothing of it. Deciding that it would be polite to wave goodbye, he did so. The man must have said something to his wife because she looked up from the child and smiled then both she and her husband waved back. “Nice to know that there are still good souls left in the world,” Jaden said as he began to walk away.
He walked up the steps leading to the Water Tower from the park and as soon as he reached the top, he looked back to take one last look at the couple. To his surprise only the man remained. He looked around for the lady and children who had been there just moments before but they were nowhere to be found. The man, however, was seated in the same place, still looking at him. That’s kind of strange, Jaden thought. “It’s not like they could have just vanished into thin air yet they could not have gone far either in the few seconds that it took me to get up here,” he whispered. “I’m sure they’re here somewhere.”
He made his way to his car and headed home, all the while thinking about the couple. Because they too were an older black and white interracial couple, he thought that perhaps Germany really wasn’t that racist after all. This is the second such couple I’ve seen, he thought.
What Jaden didn’t know was that the couple was, in fact, one and the same as the couple at the airport. It was Jaden, his beloved wife, and their grandchildren from a time yet to come, returned to spend time in Jaden’s present. When Jaden had gotten up to leave, his wife-to-be and as-yet unborn grandchildren had returned from whence they had come while his older self had remained.
*
Time was not a friend to Jaden for as it passed, his heart mended not and his loneliness only grew all the more worse. The thought of Melanie was ever-present with him and it was a struggle to balance work with his growing inner turmoil. Keeping up appearances was taking its toll. He’d lie in bed and think over and over again about how he and Melanie had met and how close they had been. He missed how close they were and wondered why things had turned out as they had. His soul was very disquieted.
Nightly was he tormented for nightly would he replay the undoing of what he and Melanie had shared; and nightly would he blame himself for his fate before deciding that nothing he did would have ever placed Melanie in his arms.
He’d start by asking who else if not he was to blame. After all, it was he who had failed to make known his feelings to Melanie when he had ample opportunity to do so. He’d then counter his postulation that things might have been different between him and Melanie with Mike’s assertion, almost as though it were truth revealed to Mike by divinity, that Melanie could never love another other than him. Using such logic he’d then invalidate the notion that he had ever had a chance at all with Melanie, regardless of if he had told her how he felt or not. It would not have made a difference in the least, he’d try to convince himself. But he’d then remember when Melanie had asked him if he’d ever date her, to which he had answered no. Thinking about that question would in turn lead him to believe that she might have actually cared for him beyond friendship; that her questioning hadn’t just been curiosity on her part. She really meant it differently, he would tell himself. She had fallen in love with him during the time she and Mike had ended their relationship, he wanted to believe.
Such was the constant anguish he relived over and over every night. He hadn’t realized that his predicament had begun to sicken him; and to deal with his unhappiness, he resorted to drinking a great deal more. He hadn’t realized that he had become an alcoholic.
Because Jaden had always been exceptionally adept at portraying himself in the manner he’d rather others perceive him, as opposed to what the reality that his life really was, the semblance of truth he created to protect the façade that all was well with him when his troops would comment that he seemed to be a bit off-center were only too believable.
20
Coincidence or a Message?
A PLEASANT SPRING DAY: Sitting in his office, watching a couple of his mechanics working on a Deuce-and-a
half military truck while they argued as to which was the better vehicle, the Deuce-and-a-half or the Five-ton truck, Jaden noticed Sergeant Beck, looking groggy as always, enter the bay with papers clasped in his right hand, pulling off his beret with the other. The sergeant’s presence with papers in hand could only have signified one thing; once again, it was the lieutenant’s turn to ascertain that all of the unit’s weapons, night-vision devices and all other equipment classified as sensitive were either present in the armory or otherwise accounted for.
Until he had asked Sergeant Beck and was provided an answer, Jaden often wondered what magnitude fall-out would ensue if ever a day came in which a weapon or some other piece of sensitive-categorized equipment went missing. The sergeant had explained that if ever such a day came, quite a few people would be reporting to the jail that was already conveniently located right there on Coleman Barracks. And from there arrangements would then be made for more permanent accommodations at Fort Leavenworth. Though Jaden had always taken his responsibilities seriously, the sergeant’s words of gloom and doom made the lieutenant add even greater emphasis in the conducting of this particular task. And it was because of the ever-present fear of jail time that, despite the fact that the armory was equipped with a very sophisticated alarm system, the poor sergeant had not gotten a good night’s sleep since being assigned the responsibility of making sure that all of the unit’s weaponry and such were well secured. So when the sergeant approached Jaden with sleep-deprivation written upon his face, the lieutenant couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor fellow.
Entering the armory Jaden looked all about him and was quite bewildered by all the different weapon systems. Though he had done what he was to do twice before, the sight of the different weapons, though always fascinating to see, did perturb him. While Jaden was observing the weapons, the sergeant had gone about setting the papers in order of sequence according to how the accountability was to be done.
The world is so far from perfect, thought Jaden as he looked at the weapons. He wondered why the hearts of men are so dark. He thought back to his childhood, back to the moment that the innocence with which he had looked upon the world had been taken away from him. He hated how his having borne witness to but a single act of cruelty had forever deprived him of his once-loving soul; before he had even had a chance to learn anything of the human species, he had already lost faith in mankind.
*
He was nine years old when he and his father had just walked out of a burger restaurant on their way home after a couple of hours at the park, where his dad loved to just sit and enjoy the peace; not so much the quiet as children were all about and hard at play.
While his father had fidgeted in his pockets looking for something, Jaden had noticed a man sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall of the restaurant. He looked dirty and his clothes were tattered. There was another man who stood a few feet away from the ragged man and was very well dressed; he, too, had just left the same place. Jaden had also noticed an as-yet unwrapped burger in the man’s hand. The man had set down his briefcase and begun to remove the wrapping. He that was in tattered clothes watched him but said not a word. After peeling back the wrapping, the distinguished man must have decided that he no longer cared to have the sandwich. He looked around him. The ragged man, anticipating what the other was going to do, asked if he may have the sandwich. The well-dressed individual looked at he who besought, smirked, threw the burger in a trash can, called the ragged man a “bum” and walked away.
Jaden had then walked up to the homeless man and, kneeling beside the hapless man, offered him his own meal. Jaden’s father had remained distracted the while and only noticed that his son no longer had his meal in hands after Jaden had returned to him. Jaden had then recounted what had occurred and asked his dad why the nicely-dressed man was mean and what bum meant. After his father’s explanation of bum in the context applied, he said to his son that the world was not always a nice place, and that not everybody was a good person. Jaden had then remarked that had the ragged man not needed help, he wasn’t likely to be out on the street but rather with his family. His father had agreed.
Though only a child, Jaden had reasoned that the distinguished man had also been a child once and if that was the manner in which children today were to be when grown tomorrow, he did not care to have friends. His father tried to reason with the child, reminding him that not all people are bad and that it was okay to have friends. It was too late; the child’s soul had been damaged. From that day forth, Jaden would never again see the world through the naïve eyes of a child. And even though he did have friends as he grew, he always remembered that the hearts of men can be fickle; to that end he never let anyone ever get close.
Unbeknownst to Jaden was that concurrent with the deed that had stolen his innocence, a phenomenon, great and unseen, had unfolded when the child had knelt down beside the homeless man; an occurrence he would come to know only after his here and now was no more.
After Jaden had offered his food to the destitute man, there had been a change in the little boy; his eyes flashed brightly and he had then leaned in closer to the man. In a deep and resonant voice, he said, “I shall fail you not. By my own hand, I promise, shall I avenge thee.” Though it was a child that had come down upon bended knee, the words spoken belonged a being far greater. All Jaden knew and would remember was that he had shown kindness to a helpless man; he would remain oblivious to the words uttered by his own tongue, and the fate of the distinguished gentleman who had suddenly vanished after having walked away a mere few steps, until much later.
*
A clicking sound the sergeant made with his pen awoke Jaden from his reverie. Armies exist, people kill each other, and chaos reigns unchecked across the globe; unfortunately this is just how the world has evolved, he reminded himself. From his perspective the world had become nothing more than a global haven for depraved souls.
Despite the fact that Jaden knew the world for what it was, each and every time he stepped into the armory, it was hard for him to believe that such things existed. He could never fathom why, or how, people let life get so outrageously out of control. There were M16s, M4s, Mark 19s, M9s, .45 and .50 cal weapons, M249s; the list was exhaustive. “Why?” he asked softly.
“Excuse me, sir?” asked the Sergeant.
“Nothing. Just thinking out loud,” he told him. How dark can the hearts of men become? he wondered. How many ways are we going to create to achieve the same end? How many different methods do we want to use to kill each other?
“Ready, sir?” asked the Sergeant, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yep! What are we starting with?”
“We’ll start with the night-vision devices, sir.”
“Let’s get to it then.”
“Roger, sir. Just one thing before we start – and I’ll show you the paperwork as we get to those particular pieces of equipment – whatever isn’t here has been temporarily transferred to other activities for calibration or servicing to bring them into tolerance with their respective service dates. The work required for those particular pieces are above our level.”
“Roger that. Most of the weapons are now in tolerance though, right? I should know that but I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” the Lieutenant said, his mind momentarily going back to Melanie.
“Yes, sir. We’re making progress. Our stats are nowhere near where they were before you got here. We’re still behind but not for much longer. Give it another four or five weeks and everything in the armory will be up to speed, sir.”
“Okay. Sounds good. Let’s get it done.”
ABOUT 45 minutes later, they finished up and Jaden signed the papers, vouching that all was in order.
“Mind if I hang here for a couple more minutes to check out the weapons while you finish up?” he asked the sergeant.
“Sure thing, sir.”
Jaden looked at the weapons. He had fired every single weapon system in the unit’s arsenal at some time
or another, and though he always wondered why guns had to exist it seemed to dawn upon him only now what all this really meant. It was all naught save senseless death simply waiting to happen.
“Why?” he asked again.
This time the sergeant didn’t hear him.
“Why did You let it come to this?” he asked, acknowledging and talking to God for the first time in a very long while. “How many ways shall You let us create to destroy ourselves before you put an end to it?” he whispered. My God! How can man be so depraved?
The sergeant spoke. “Well, that’s that until next month,” he said while signing the last signature needed to close-out the report. “Are you about ready, sir?”
“Yeah, thanks. One thing before we leave though.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Have you ever taken a good hard look at all these weapons and wondered why?” Jaden asked disconcertedly.
“Oh that! Yes, sir,” the Sergeant replied, looking reflective. “The first few weeks after I was appointed the duty, I used to ask myself that same question repeatedly. But you know what, as sad as it is, it becomes normal after a while and you no longer pay any mind to such things. I guess that’s just life in general though. When you’ve been exposed to something long enough, you can easily become desensitized to it without even realizing what’s happening to you,” he said, shaking his head in sad disapproval.
“You’re right. That is life. We’ve become desensitized to the most loathsome of things. Once you get used to it, it becomes commonplace… anyway, when is the next time I’ll be doing this?”
“Three months from now, after it rotates through Sergeant McHenry and Lieutenant Krappa.”
They stepped out of the armory and the sergeant secured the armory by typing in several codes into the computerized lock.
“Good luck with that last guy!” Jaden wished him.
“Thanks, sir. God knows I’m going to need it with that asshole.”