by Jody Pardo
My mom had washed and pressed my shirt and pants after the Pleasant Street Station dedication ceremony. I took my jacket out of the garment bag and checked all my ribbons and pins for proper placement, adjusting them from the jumbles of transit. Thank goodness for non-smoking room policies. At least I wouldn't have to worry about smelling like an ashtray from Pierson's smoking. I placed the canvas bag that held my patent-leather dress shoes in it at the bottom of the closet beneath my waiting uniform and sighed. How many of these funerals will I attend?
One flight back from Jordan we were on the same plane as caskets. Ten flag-covered caskets lined the cargo bay. There was no first class seating, there was no in-flight movie. It was a long flight back stateside and besides onboarding procedures and announcements for landing, it was the quietest flight of my life. I still don't like to fly, but would gladly listen to a gurgling or crying baby than stare at flag-lined caskets for hours.
Pierson showed up a short while later, and we grabbed Christina from her room and headed to the local Subway for some sandwiches. I was still sated from lunch but knew the next day would be a long one so eating was necessary. One thing I learned in the military was never to waste time that could be spent sleeping or eating.
After dinner, we went back to our respective rooms and Pierson was snoring before I had my boots off. God bless—the man could sleep through a war, literally. I crawled into my bed in my PT shorts and laid staring at the stained ceiling tiles and revolving ceiling fan. I wondered if Christina was sleeping. I tossed and turned and tried to clear my head of the turmoil of thoughts. As Pierson sawed wood, I realized I didn't want to be in that room with him. I wanted to be across the hall with Christina, the woman who could keep my nightmares at bay.
I slipped into my shower shoes and pulled one of my unit t-shirts over my head before grabbing my room key and slipping out into the hallway. I rapped softly on her door. I didn't want to startle her out of bed but I wanted her to answer the door. I waited to hear any moment from within her room. I rapped again after a few moments of silence and heard the squeak of the bed and the plodding of her feet on the floor.
"Who is it?" There was no peephole on the door, but I saw the curtain pull back from the pane of glass along the doorjamb, and Christina peeked up at me.
She quickly opened the door and stood with her arms crossed covering her chest and Vernon College t-shirt. Her shapely legs held her upright as she leaned against the hotel room door. "Is everything okay?"
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah, sure, come on." She took steps back and allowed me to pass letting the door close behind her. "What's going on?"
"I wanted to be near you."
"I'm right here." I hugged her tight against me and she unfurled her arms and wrapped them around my waist. We stood wrapped in each other’s' arms in silence before Christina got antsy. "You're worrying me. What is wrong?"
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You're not hurting me. You're not making any sense right now. Please explain."
"Can we lay down?" I guided us to the bed and crawled in, lifting the blankets for her to join me beneath them. I wrapped her in my arms and she laid her head on my chest and played with the peach fuzz of hair on my chest.
"What's on your mind, Peter?"
"You are. I want to sleep, just like this, but it scares the shit out of me."
"What are you so afraid of?"
"I want to be able to be with you, like this, and not worry about nightmares."
"I'm not scared of you."
"You should be," I said flatly. "If I tell you something, promise you won't get all upset?"
"I will try, but you can't tell someone not to get upset. It's setting me up for failure."
"When we had sex, I didn't have any nightmares for the first time in a long time. You keep the ghosts away."
She lay quiet and breathless against my chest for a long minute. I grew nervous and anxious when she didn't move or respond to my statement. I hugged her tighter and her exhale snapped her out of her silence.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you. I couldn't think of a softer way of saying it but it's true."
Christina took a deep breath and exhaled long and slow before looking up at me, holding my cheek in her small hand. "Then let's live beyond the ghosts."
She crawled up my body, straddling my waist, peppering my face with kisses. Her warm core ground against the thin layer of my shorts and my growing erection pulsed against her mound.
"I swear I didn't come here for sex. I couldn't sleep."
"And I want you to sleep with me. So, let's work on it, together."
I didn't remember falling asleep or where my body stopped and hers began, but I woke up in her arms the next morning, nightmare free.
My turn at the podium during Goemans' service arrived, and suddenly, I was faced with a room full of faces and remembered I wasn't so good at public speaking. It wasn't like I could open with a joke at his funeral.
"My name is Sergeant First Class Peter Toledo, United States Army. I served with Specialist Goemans on more than one deployment. I thought a lot about what I would say about Goemans, um, Chris, and it was a challenge. He had been a part of my unit but I never got to know him personally. Unlike some of the others who have spoken already and ones who will follow, I have spent the better part of the last three years with this man and had to think of what to say, and I was disappointed in myself.
“As a leader, I have guided these men on missions and they have followed orders as served, as outstanding soldiers. Goemans was no different. He completed his tasks, and at the time of his death was doing just that, getting the job done. Goemans brought life and laughter to our unit and every memory I do have was him entertaining and boosting morale of his fellow soldiers. In the most stressful of situations, he never lost his smile or his sense of humor.
“Ma'am—" I looked at Goemans' mother seated in the first row with Pierson at her side "—I'm so sorry for your loss. No parent should ever outlive their children. I am proud to have known and served with him. He is not truly gone. Those of us who remain behind remember, and will continue to remember, because he now resides forever in our hearts. We all thank you for your son and wish you peace in knowing he made a difference. God bless."
I walked away from the podium and took my seat next to Christina who had tears streaming down her face. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her to my chest as the next speaker took the podium.
I couldn't leave my men, but I didn't want to leave Christina. I wasn't sure which one would hurt worse in the end.
After the reception, Christina and I went back to the hotel and we laid in bed after fucking ourselves to comfortable exhaustion. The television was watching us and another sitcom with a laugh reel provided background noise.
"Do you like Texas?" I asked, pressing a kiss into her scalp.
"It's nice, I guess. Not much different than Legacy Falls, just ... bigger."
"How would you like coming back here?"
"Sure, why not. I will go with you. Coming back to visit your friends?"
"Not exactly," I whispered. "This is my duty station."
"You're staying?"
"Not today, but I have to come back ... soon." She got stiff in my arms as the reality of my words set in, and I lifted her chin for her to face me.
"I want you with me."
"Why?"
"Because I love you. You calm me."
"No, why do you have to go back? I thought you were done?"
"That’s what my mom wants. This is who I am, but I want to be better. I won't be a soldier forever. I can retire in just four years. I just don't want to wait four years for you."
"You're a good man, Peter."
"I want to be better, and I want something to come home to. I want to come home to you."
"I thought you weren’t good at relationships."
"I never tried. You're worth trying for."
"A monkey could do my job, I gu
ess."
"You don't have to make a decision today. Just think about it."
She nuzzled against my chest and sighed deeply. "Yes."
The next morning, I woke up another day without nightmares. I looked down at the mass of light brown hair that was spread across my chest like an octopus. Christina was still sleeping, and her slow even breaths heated my chest. I kissed the top of her head, and she inhaled sharply as she stirred.
"Hey, sleepy head. It's almost ten. We have to check out soon."
"Mmm, but this bed is so comfy. Can we take it home with us?"
"I think they might charge us for it. I'm gonna go pack up my stuff next door."
"Okay, I will be right here."
I smacked her ass, and she squealed and sat upright in the bed with her lip stuck out in a pout. "What was that for?"
"If I have to get up, you do too. Come on, Munchkin, get that pretty ass moving."
She wiggled her ass on her way to the edge of the bed. "I bet you say that to everyone."
"Hell no. Just you. I don't tell my men they have pretty asses, only that they are gonna lose them if they don’t move them."
"So, you think I'm pretty, huh?" Coy, faux-naïve Christina was back.
"Baby, you're beautiful. I'm going to go pack."
Back in my room, I gathered my things and packed my dress blues in my garment bag and stuffed my toiletries into my backpack. I sat on the edge of my bed and changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and tugged on my boots at the foot of my bed. I wasn't wearing my issue socks and my boots felt funny. I stood up and took a few steps and something was poking me in the heel.
I removed my boot and shook it upside down and out dropped a single dog tag.
Pierson, Daniel 114-68-6122
A Pos
2 Sept 1978
Catholic
No, no, no. I held the boot to my face and pulled the tongue down and looked closer to see Pierson 6122 written in black Sharpie on the inside of the tongue. I looked around for Pierson's stuff and his ruck sack was tucked in the corner of the closet. I didn't even see it when I had taken out my garment bag.
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I turned to face the closed bathroom door. I opened the door and my worst fears came to fruition. Pierson's limp body hanging from the overhead pipe in his dress blues and patent leather shoes would haunt me forever.
This book holds a very special place in my heart. It is dedicated to my eldest uncle and godfather, Airman First Class Pedro Juan Garcia Jr., United States Air Force, Vietnam, 31 Dec 1952-31 Aug 2003 who has always been my hero and my male role model. Long before any other children were born in our family, he was the firstborn and so was I, and that bond can never be severed. His guidance and lessons remain in my heart forever. I am blessed he was able to see my daughter, Ariel Elizabeth, be born and experience another generation in our bloodline before he was taken to heaven. His legacy remains forever. I love you, Uncle Pete.
Also to my cousin, Staff Sergeant Pedro Juan Garcia III, carries on our family legacy as he continues to currently serve in the United States Army as a 13 Bravo, Howitzer Section Chief. P.J. has served three deployments to date: two in Iraq and one in Kuwait. I cannot express the love and pride I have for my cousin and the honorable man and father he has become. Your dad loved you and I see his spirit in you every time you smile.
For my daughter, Ariel Elizabeth Pardo, you are my life and everything I do is for you. Never underestimate nor take for granted each opportunity you have been given. Even though war and the ugliness of the world may be out of sight and out of mind, every day men and women around the world fight to protect our freedoms and keep us safe. Always take the time to share in an elder's wisdom and thank a man or woman in uniform. Through their sacrifice, our happy days are possible.
I conducted multiple interviews with both active duty and retired soldiers as I wrote this book that have served in the Army, the Marines, Army National Guard, the Navy, and the Air Force. Words cannot begin to describe my appreciation for their candor, insight and raw honesty, even if it meant digging into some locked, buried depths of their memories bringing sometimes painful and/or disturbing memories to the surface. While the characters portrayed are fictional, the stories, emotions and experiences are very real. I hope I have done them all justice.
With deepest thanks to: (in rank order)
First Sergeant David Ray Hickman, United States Army, 13Z Field Artillery Senior NCO, has 21 years of service and is currently serving as a Senior Leader Course School Chief at Fort Sill NCO Academy in Oklahoma. Thank you for being a great friend. I enjoy our walks, hikes, and talks, even if you cut my balloon bouquet down and let them fly away. Have faith, my friend, there is still hope.
Sergeant First Class Charles E Mills, US Army, 11B Infantry, has 18.5 years of service and is currently serving as a Senior Instructor/Writer at Fort Sill in Oklahoma. Thank you for motivating me to be better and push a little harder every day. Even on days when I didn't want to move, your commitment made me do it.
Staff Sergeant Paul M Nebel, US Army, 14E Enhanced Patriot Operator/Maintainer has 16 years of service and currently serving as Instructor/Writer at Fort Sill in Oklahoma. It takes a village and we have a tribe. Thank you for trusting me with your thoughts, your boys and making our #familybychoice even bigger. Every day is a new joy and a new experience as we all grow together.
Sergeant Amber Martin, US Army, 94F Drill Sergeant/Computer Detection and systems repair, has 9 years of service and is currently serving as a Drill Sergeant for new recruits at Fort Sill in Oklahoma. Amber aka Mackenzie's mom has become a member of my #familybychoice. Our daughters are best friends who bonded as the two new kids on the block on the volleyball team. Who knew that two random parents sitting next to each other grumbling under their breath during orientation would share kids, laughs, meals, homes, dogs, and become family. Apparently, the kids did as we texted them both and they trotted back together. The universe works in mysterious ways. God definitely had his hand in that one.
Timothy Allen Hoosier served in United States Marines as a Corporal from 1997-2001 as 0844 Fire Direct Field Artillery. He continued his service in the United States Army as a Specialist from 2003-2014 in multiple job titles including 13D Fire Directions Control and 88M Motor Transportation Specialist. Now retired, Tim currently serves as a Corrections Officer in Oklahoma. God puts people in our lives for a reason and your path to me was kind of roundabout but I'm glad you made it and stuck around through it all. In an odd way, I think it worked out that I suck at checking my email because somehow I don't think we would have had as many laughs, beer tastings (that Red Hoppy one still sucks) or late night fun had things panned out any other way. Thank you my friend, Cheers! Bring the beer...
Specialist Kaleb Andrew Killough, United States Army, 94F Computer Detection and systems repair served his country from 2006-2008 and was honorably discharged. You are more than just a spouse or part of a package deal, you are a true friend, good parent and I'm glad you are in my #familybychoice. It's awesome to be able to sound off and you give it right back in spades. Zero fucks given, get butthurt or get over it.
And to all those who I have met at Fort Sill, Camp Smith, Fort Hamilton, Fort Leonard Wood, Fort Bragg, Fort Hood, Fort McClellan, Fort Jackson, Altus Air Force Base, Sheppard Air Force Base, and Fort Benning that sat with me, chatted, answered endless questions, explained what to you might have seemed trivial or goofy things to me, and were so patient and have chosen to remain anonymous, thank you for your time, friendship and sharing your experiences with me.
Sora thank you for Mei. #challengeaccepted. What greater challenge than a mute. I look forward to more adventures featuring Mei. Thank you my graveyard shift fellow vampire.
It's my hope that this book while entertaining, builds awareness and support for both active duty military and veterans. Twenty-two veterans a day ... or even one, is one too many to lose to suicide. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a serious and very present facto
r as well as lack of support services for returning soldiers. The 22 Project is a registered 501(c)3 nonprofit organization, established to support our returning veterans with Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Many veterans return with severe psychiatric and psychological impairment, including rage, addiction to alcohol and/or drugs, as well as criminal behavior and suicidal thoughts.
Net proceeds from this book are being donated to VetSports. VetSports is a registered 501(c)3 nonprofit organization dedicated to the rehabilitation of our returning veterans through organized adaptive team sports. Local Chapters of VetSports are committed to building programs within their communities that support current and future veteran populations. Through team sports events, community outreach efforts, and team building activities they create an environment that is ideal for communication and rehabilitation. Often just being around those with similar pasts and dealing with similar issues allows one to break down barriers that would otherwise impede healing.
For more information about The 22 Project click on the link: http://www.support22project.org.
For more information about VetSports or to find a chapter near you, click on the link: http://www.vetsports.org.
Jody Pardo was born and raised in New York City and is the only child of an English professor. After 9/11/2001 and a line-of-duty injury, she left her role as an EMT with FDNY-EMS for a quieter life. She pursued Bachelor’s degrees in Molecular Biosciences and English. Her love of books and introduction to the Indie book world led to many wonderful friendships, and the drive to write and publish was ignited. Jody loves to travel and meet new people, and has lived in five states and visited 48 out of 50 US states. Known for her goofy selfies and love for peanut butter, she is easily swayed to dares and shenanigans.
Now a resident of Oklahoma, Jody is an elementary school teacher and a single mom to her daughter, Ariel Elizabeth, and her cat, Bullet.