***
“Yes sir, I see,” Colonel Bugs said speaking into the receiver. The voice on the other end belonged to a man who wore a star on his collar and confirmed what Bugs wanted to hear. “Yes sir, understood. He’ll be leaving on the next patrol back to Camp Victory. I’ll personally see to it.” Bugs hung up the phone and looked to the doctor sitting in front of his desk. “Well doc,” he said. “It looks like you’ve convinced the right people that my soldier is crazy enough to be sent home.”
The doctor frowned at the word crazy. Both men stood up and Bugs walked the doctor to the door.
“I just hope this is the last case we see in your battalion,” the doctor said.
“You?” Bugs said.
“Yes sir, for your sake and the sake of your soldiers I hope I don’t have to come back.”
Bugs smiled at the doctor. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This one slipped though, but the others won’t.”
“Others?” the doctor said.
“Yes doc, we’re all a bit loony over here in the Infantry.”
As the doctor walked down the hallway Bugs yelled out. “Oh and hey doc,” he said.
“Yes,” the major said turning around.
“If you do come back to my battalion,” Bugs said raising his hand as if there were clippers in it. “Be sure you get a haircut first. You know, for your sake.”
The doctor looked to the floor then walked away. Bugs smiled, nobody beats Bugs –nobody.
Lieutenant Colonel Bugs waited until the major was gone then walked out to the staging area where a few humvees were parked. Specialist Fallon stood next to one of the Humvees twirling his imaginary basketball. Bugs walked over to him, but wasn’t really sure what to say. As he watched Fallon playing with the imaginary ball a very faint sense of sorrow began to grow. The poor kid tried his best but just couldn’t deal with it. Combat was rough, and some guys just didn’t have the fabric to take it.
Bugs knew that not all scars a soldier brings home from war can be seen, but this young soldier standing in front of him had a scar you could see – an invisible basketball. Bugs wondered how Fallon would adjust back into civilian life carrying that silly invisible ball around all the time. He thought Fallon would probably go back to college and he imaged Fallon’s fellow students laughing at him when he wasn’t looking. Preppy college boys laughing at a veteran because he broke under the stress of combat. Was that the respect Specialist Fallon earned by fighting this war? It angered Bugs. Invisible basketball or not, Specialist Fallon was one of his men and they’d fought this war together, he deserved more respect than that. For the first time, Bugs thought that perhaps there really was a breaking point. He’d gotten it wrong and felt pity for Fallon.
“I’m sorry to see you go,” he said oddly caught off guard by this new found sense of pity.
“Thanks sir. I’ll be alright,” Fallon said. The two stood there for a moment looking at each other.
“Well, I need to load my stuff now,” Fallon said to Bugs. “Could you hold this for just a moment sir?” Specialist Fallon held out the invisible basketball, but Bugs didn’t move. “Just for a second sir, so I can load my gear.” Bugs worried that some of his soldiers might see him holding the invisible ball, but he also thought it was the least he could do for Fallon.
So Bugs took the ball that no one could see and stood their empty handed as Fallon threw his bags into the humvee. As Fallon got into the humvee and closed the door he turned to the colonel.
“Take care sir,” he said. “Maybe we’ll see each other again in some other place.”
Bugs didn’t answer, he just shook his head. The driver started the engine and Bugs realized he was still standing there with Fallon’s invisible ball.
“Don’t forget your ball,” he said holding out his arms in front of him as if he were offering a real ball.
“It’s okay sir, I don’t need it anymore,” Fallon answered.
Colonel Bugs stood there with his empty hands extended outward holding an imaginary basketball, his head tilted to the side like a dog trying to understand his master. Specialist Fallon leaned out the window and waved to Colonel Bugs as the humvee drove away.
“You can keep it,” he shouted. “The game’s over.”
Colonel Bugs stood in the dust as the convoy drove past him, and laughed a bit. He laughed because he knew the doctor was wrong. There’s no breaking point, just levels of brokenness. Mostly he laughed because Specialist Fallon was right. They would be seeing each other again, just a lot sooner than the clever young soldier thought. It’s only halftime Bugs told himself. Bugs casually turned around and walked back to his office, being careful not to drop the invisible basketball. He had a phone call to make to a man who wore a star on his collar and a pick-up game to finish with Specialist Fallon.
###
The Pick-Up Game is one short story of a collection to be published soon. If you enjoyed it please visit www.jalanmontrose.com and sign up for the mailing list to find out more.
About the author:
J. Alan Montrose is an American author and expatriate living in Germany. His fiction has appeared in Knee Jerk, War, Literature, and the Arts, Cheap Pop and others. A graduate of the University of Georgia, Athens and a veteran of the U.S. Army, he served in Samarra and Balad, Iraq as an infantry officer. After being discharged he studied at the University of Hamburg, Germany where he received a post graduate Master’s degree in Peace and Security Studies.
You can read more of his work at www.jalanmontrose.com
The Pick-Up Game Page 3