Most of the squad still seemed to be pretty hyper from the adrenaline, while I was pretty well drained from it. It was getting dark, and even though we had only spent one night on patrol and were being pulled back out early, I felt like I had been away forever. I actually started drifting off to sleep when someone smacked my knee. It was Boom. “Hey, Pup! Congratulations! You lost your cherry! How do you feel?”
I was pretty groggy, so I didn’t think through my answer before I gave it. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Truthfully, I probably would have responded the same way. “It’s remarkable. We spend the night in the field, we march over a mountain, we fight in a battle, and you still manage to come out of it looking amazing.”
Now, for some women, that would have been the biggest compliment. I have known women that would go through days of spa treatments to look like Boom did after a few stressful days in the field. I honestly believed that I was being polite and complimentary. It became obvious that Boom felt differently. “You little shit! You keep your eyes off of my body, and I swear that if I find you taking pictures of me or anything like that, I will rip off any parts of you that respond to them!” I’m pretty sure that she would have stormed off if we weren’t a few thousand feet off the ground and going one hundred and fifty miles per hour.
Boom wasn’t looking at me anymore, and something told me that it wasn’t safe for me to look at her. Instead I looked out the door. Thinking back on it now, I reckon that is proof of how much I was intimidated by her. I found more comfort in looking out an open doorway that made me think I might plummet to my death than looking at her. While I watched the darkened countryside pass by, I started thinking about home. It was something that I hadn’t really thought about much since I had gotten to the Hiss. That alone surprised me. I had to leave a summer camp once because I had gotten so homesick. I’m sure that happened to a lot of people when they were young, but my summer camp was just three miles from home and my mother visited daily. Maybe that was why I left. Maybe her visits embarrassed me. Kids, if you are reading this, please let me know if I do something embarrassing enough that it makes you want to leave somewhere. On second thought, don’t tell me. We probably will never go anywhere as a family again.
I felt a little bit better about what had happened with the dog after what the Professor told me, but I still felt sad because I missed my dog. I wondered if he had tried to run away since I’d left. My parents hadn’t mentioned it in any of their letters. It made me wonder if he hadn’t run away because I wasn’t there to accidentally leave the door open, or if my absence removed his reason for running away. I could still hear my mother’s voice shouting at me. “Close that door! Were you born in a barn?” In a middle school-age fit of sarcasm I once asked her if she kept saying that because she couldn’t remember. I wasn’t allowed outside for the remainder of my seventh grade year. I did ask her with honest curiosity a few years later if it was a bad thing to leave a barn door open as well. That ended the summer of my ninth grade year.
Most of the flight back to the camp was a blur. I found myself chuckling at the memory of my dad causing a small explosion the first time he used a gas grill. I shook my head in wonder at the memory of the first time that the dog and cat met each other. Since they both were convinced they were hairy humans, they appeared to decide that they were siblings. That’s when their rivalry began. For a moment I thought I could almost smell my mother’s cooking . . . as I burnt it in the microwave trying to reheat it. When the bird landed, I was a confused mess of joyful, thankful, sad, and homesick. Even with that, I made sure to exit the bird on the opposite side from Boom.
Once we exited the helicopter, everyone went about their own personal rituals that they had honed over time for a return from a successful mission. Nickel ran straight to the medic tent to check on Jethro. The Professor went to his tent to start writing his after-action report. Hannibal went straight to the mess hall. It looked like most of the platoon were running to the tents that served as enlisted and NCO drinking clubs. For me, I secured my gear and decided that I needed a shower. We may have only been in the field for a couple of days, but I felt grimy and dirty and would be happy to revel in running water, be it hot or cold.
I entered the shower tent, checked for other bathers, saw there were none, and stripped down to my boxers. I stepped into the shower and started the water. The screech that I let out reverberated through the surrounding hills and set flocks of birds scattering for safety. I had forgotten about the busted blisters all over my hands and feet. When the water touched them, my scream was involuntary. I choked it off as soon as I could, but the pain still blurred my vision for a few moments. Eventually, the pain became manageable. I realized that no one had come to find the source of the scream. Either everyone was too tired or too drunk to care. Either that or they recognized my voice and figured I had just done something stupid . . . which was true enough.
I was a minute or two into my shower and starting to feel human again when I heard someone else enter the tent. I looked up and saw Rabbit making her way to the other side of the tent. She got to the shower stall that she wanted and began to remove her uniform. I promptly turned away and cleared my throat to make certain that she knew I was there. “Hello, Pup,” she said without the slightest hint of surprise. “You can stop trying to cover up. The shower divider keeps you pretty well hidden.” I looked down and realized that I was trying to cover myself with my arms, which was a remarkably stupid looking thing for a man to do. I rather sheepishly stopped trying to cover myself and proceeded to use my soap.
Once I heard Rabbit start up her own water and I was certain that she was behind her own shower divider, I turned back around. We both showered in silence for a few moments before I heard her say, barely loud enough for me to hear, “I heard about the dog. Sorry for jumping your case.”
“No reason to apologize,” I replied, a little more loudly to let her know that I didn’t consider it a big deal. “I don’t care what the Professor says about it, I didn’t do it because I have good instincts or anything like that. I did it because I am excitable and easily confused sometimes and am really good at screwing things up.”
“I can definitely agree with the part about screwing things up.” Oh, so now she decides to speak up! “Still, you saved a lot of lives even if you didn’t mean to. You performed well in the valley today, too. Nothing imaginative or innovative. Everything was straight out of the training manual. Still, that’s a useful thing, too. Boom told me you were able to keep several guys away from her until she could reach a better position. Exactly what support fire is for.”
At the mention of the name, I figured that I would take a risk. “Why does she hate me so much?”
Rabbit seemed to think about that before replying. “You know how you can care about someone so much that you start to hate them?” I certainly did. I had hoped that was the situation. I had dreamed that was the situation. I mean that literally. I had dreamt several nights before that Boom yelled and cursed at me before grabbing me and kissing me with great passion. I woke up and was making out with my pillow. I’m so glad that everyone else in the tent had slept through that one. “Well, that’s not the case with you and Boom.” Thanks, Rabbit. Way to burst my hormone-filled egotistical bubble. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that she got her nickname because of her explosive temper. She got her temper because of her past.”
I sat there, awaiting further explanation. None was forthcoming. My skin was starting to prune. “Let’s operate under the assumption that I know nothing about her past and proceed from there.”
“You see, Pup, most people would have prodded me by saying ‘and . . .’ You have got to stop being so . . . so . . .”
“Loquacious,” I offered. Wow. I think I am going to ask for a review of my transcripts and see if I can get my English grades raised after this.
“Wordy,” she corrected. Why was everyone trying to teach me this lesson?
A conspiracy theorist would be very paranoid by this point. “Boom has always been hot. Before she was in the army, she had two serious relationships. Both of them were guys that told her everything that a woman wants to hear. They complimented her, they were polite to her, and they bought her nice things.”
“So you are saying that I’m not being nice enough to her?” I’m not sure what else I could have done, but I was willing to try anything. I really don’t like people being upset with me.
“I’m saying that you are an impolite little punk for interrupting my story.” I may not like people being upset with me, but I have an uncanny ability to make people feel that way. “The problem is that both of these guys just wanted eye candy. She overheard her first boyfriend talking with his buddies about how much he hated hearing her talk about things she liked and how if she wasn’t so hot he’d dump her at the side of the road. The second boyfriend, who swore he’d never treat her that way, never showed up on their wedding day.” Rabbit turned off her water and began to step out of the shower. I promptly turned away. “Boom was at the recruiter’s office the next day. Now, any guy that compliments her reminds her of her ex-boyfriends, and it sets her off.” It occurred to me that Rabbit’s voice was moving. When I looked up, I saw her standing at my shower stall wrapped in a towel. I once again tried to cover up, even with my boxer shorts on. She pretended not to notice. “It isn’t that you aren’t being polite to Boom. The problem is that you are trying to be polite, which makes her think that you want to use her like they did. I know you don’t.” It made me feel for a moment like Rabbit understood me. “Because I know you can’t possibly believe that you have a chance with her.” Like I said, for a moment. “So maybe you just need to back off for a bit. Also, you might want to turn off the water. It’s obviously cold.”
As Rabbit left the tent, I realized that she was correct. The shower water had gone cold halfway through our conversation and I was shivering violently. I turned the water off and stepped out to get my towel, which was gone along with the rest of my uniform. I heard Rabbit laughing as she walked back to the tent. Damn. What happened to the good old days of “kick me” signs? They were easier to deal with and didn’t feel like hypothermia.
We had a couple of days of stand-down while higher authorities contemplated what to do next. I discovered on the first night that while I had not needed the snore strips while on patrol (I couldn’t believe that Ian had been right about that), I still required them in camp. I tested sleeping without it one night. I woke up to the other members of the tent rifling through a toolbox and trying to decide what tool would be best for making me shut up. I’m glad I was able to find my snore strips because they had decided unanimously on the tin snips. I cringe to think of what they’d planned to do with them. I also managed to get through a shower for the first time without someone stealing my towel and clothes. I shouldn’t have been so happy about it. In my joy, I celebrated loudly in front of some of the members of my squad. My towel and uniform promptly disappeared the next day. On a high note, I was able to eat in the mess tent at least three times without spilling a substantial amount of food on myself. It was a decent few days.
About five days after my first taste of combat, we were sent on another three-day patrol. I was forced to carry the squad automatic weapon again (I mean, seriously, how long does this FNG crap go on?), and we were out there for the entire three days. We saw absolutely no action during the patrol, unless you count the pack of stray dogs that ran away when they saw me. My feet were even more injured than from the previous patrol, but I managed to stifle my scream when I stepped into the shower this time.
I had barely spoken a word to Boom since the first patrol. It was the morning after we returned from the second patrol that the situation changed. After calisthenics, I wound up walking to the mess tent for breakfast at about the same time as Boom. When we reached the wood-framed door, I reached out and opened it for her. She looked at me with fire in her eyes and said, “I don’t need your help, Puppy!”
I stared right back at her but with a lot less fire. “Boom, I am not one of your exes. You are gorgeous, and I have noticed that, but I don’t care. The only thing that I am trying to be is polite. I don’t expect anything in return from you. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you. If the only thing I ever get out of my efforts from you is a smile, then it is well worth it. I’m truly sorry that people have treated you like that. I truly am, and I am here if you ever want to talk about it, but you have got to stop biting my head off just because I keep acting the way that my mommy raised me.” Yes, I actually said “mommy.” Not “mother,” “mom,” or even “female parental unit.” Mommy. Insert face-palm here.
Boom continued to look at me with that same fire. It occurred to me that these could be the last few moments of my life. One of the reasons Boom looked so good was because she was very fit. That meant that she could probably pop my head off and play volleyball with it without much effort. One of her eyes started to squint a little bit as though she was planning something. That seemed to guarantee the end of my existence. When I saw her hand start reaching for me, I prepared for the end. She lightly, playfully slapped me on the cheek. “Damn, Pup. Survive one battle and you suddenly grow a pair.” Then she smiled.
I’m not a typical “man’s man.” A man’s man would have been thinking at this point how he could capitalize on this moment to go further with this beauty. I had three thoughts that occupied my mind, and going further wasn’t involved in any of them. The first thought was that this had been the closest I had come to wetting my pants since the battle. The second thought I had was that I needed to say a few extra prayers tonight to give thanks for still being alive. The third thought was that I had made someone smile a genuine smile. It made the entire journey to the Hiss worthwhile. I’m a softy. It makes me easy to please.
I continued to hold the door to the mess tent open, and Boom finally walked through it. That was when we both realized that everyone in the tent had stopped eating their breakfast and were watching our exchange. The population of the tent consisted mostly of men, and they were all nodding at me with the unspoken male message that they were proud of me because they thought I would be able to use this moment to go to the next level. I felt my eyes get wide and my head shake slightly from side to side. Boom was a lot less subtle. She looked at the tent, saw their reactions, and growled at them. I kid you not, she growled like some kind of feline hunter. Everyone in the tent startled away from her, including me. Satisfied that she had properly cowed the men, Boom proceeded to walk to the line. After she passed, some of the men still turned to me and nodded. I guess that we men really are that thick.
A few hours later we had mail call. Although we had access to the Internet, it was often interrupted for various reasons. We could receive e-mail and the like, but because of the unreliability of our electronic services, old-fashioned letter writing had come back into fashion. Mail call was once again the favorite time of day for soldiers throughout the Hiss, just like in the olden days. I had received quite a few letters from my parents, and even a care package with more beef jerky (if you tell my mother that you like something, you will receive an overabundance of it for years afterward), so I looked forward to mail call as well. When they called my name this time, I took possession of a letter that had unfamiliar handwriting on the envelope. Curious, I carried the letter back to my bunk.
Once I had made myself comfortable, I took a good look at the return address. I didn’t recognize the address, but the name was memorable. It was from Korika. Even with my bad memory for names, I remembered that one. Korika was a friend from high school. A sweet girl at heart, she had the uncanny ability to find bad relationships and get into them. Being so many people’s “big brother,” I was always there to help her whenever she realized how bad the relationships really were. I was always a good shoulder to cry on, and I was usually happy to do it. I hadn’t heard much from her since high school, so I was pr
etty surprised to receive a letter from her.
I opened the letter and began reading. Apparently, there had been a brief story in the local newspaper about how I had received my Combat Infantry Badge. They even mentioned my letter of commendation, although they didn’t mention me accidentally injuring a dog. It’s probably a good thing. PETA would have had me for dinner, accident or not. She talked about how she had read the story and become scared for my safety over here. She went on to describe how much she appreciated that I had been there for her in the difficult days of her high school years. Thinking about it made her realize that she had never really thanked me for doing so much for her. She wanted me to know that she did appreciate it, and she’d decided that she wanted to show her appreciation.
Kids, if you’re reading this, please skip to the next chapter. Trust me, it is better for all involved. Honey, you might want to skip to the next chapter as well. Otherwise, you may not let me attend the next high school reunion.
I reached into the envelope and pulled out her token of appreciation. It was a picture. Of her. It was one of those pictures. Of her. My eyes just about popped out of my head. I looked around and realized that the tent was full of people who were reading their mail or the mail of others to get a feel for home. I really didn’t want any members of the squad to get that kind of a feeling for my home! I stuffed the picture back into the envelope before anyone could see it.
Yes, we all know that I’m a guy, but that didn’t mean that I was really comfortable with the situation. It wasn’t that Korika was unattractive. She was actually very pretty. But she was also someone that I might see again when I returned home. I didn’t think that I could even begin to imagine how that conversation might go. I have no doubt that there are sitcoms and movies that show how to deal with these situations, but my mother would never let me watch any of them. It was a sheltered childhood.
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