Mouser
06-08-2007, 03:00 PM
Steve sat in the O-Club, waiting for Chris Lewis to show for dinner. Steve had slept late and then gone for a run, then to the gym. He spent the rest of the day in a haze, not knowing what exactly he should do to recover from what he experienced in that cemetery.
He ate, but the food was ash in his mouth.
He had thrown away the BDUs from two nights before. The stains would never come out. He could never imagine wearing them again.
So he threw them out and bought a new set for "clean" operations.
Today he wore the ones with insignia that identified him as the General's aid. The ones with the braid over one shoulder. He wanted to have a beer with a new friend. Someone with whom he could share confidences, if they could find a "clean" room to share them in. Someone who could understand what it was like to do what he did for a living.
Lt. Chris Lewis sat down across from him, and the waitress, seeing him arrive, came over to take their orders.
Steve looked at Chris. "You know what you want?"
Chris reached for a menu. "Not yet."
"Okay." Steve turned to the waitress. "Brenda. Just two beers for now."
Chris put his hand on her arm. "No beer for me. A coke."
Steve looked at him quizzically. "Don't worry. I'm buying."
Chris looked at him, his eyes dead. "No beer for me."
Steve raised his hands in mock surrender. "No problem. Brenda, make that two cokes. We'll order later."
After Brenda left, Steve asked Chris "What's wrong? I thought we were meeting for beers?"
Chris looked at the table between them. "I'm leaving the Army. I'm putting my papers in tomorrow."
Steve responded in a harsh whisper, "But why? To do what? C'mon, Chris. I was there. I know it was bad, but that just means we need to work harder!"
Chris shook his head slowly. "I know. But I can't do it anymore. I can't stand on the front lines waiting to be the next one to die. The next one to be torn apart or..." He choked back tears and barely got out, "eaten. I just can't do it anymore, Steve. I quit." He cleared his throat.
"Okay. So you don't want to do this anymore. What are you going to do with your life?"
The cokes arrived, and they gave their orders. Steve sipped at his coke and looked at Chris, daring him to speak.
The words spilled out of his mouth before Chris could even think about them. "I'm going back to school. I'm gonna get a masters in divinity. I'm gonna be a pastor. I'm gonna build a church. I'm gonna get married. I'm gonna have a whole bunch of kids, and I'm gonna try to put this whole thing behind me."
"Chris, you can't just quit. You have skills and training. Knowledge and experience. The Army needs you."
He could see he wasn't reaching Chris. "You wanna be a pastor? The Reverend Chris Lewis? Then minister to those you can help most."
He thought for a moment. "Chris, you have clearances that mean we can talk. I mean REALLY talk about what it's like. What it's like to fight the fight. What it's like to ride herd on a bunch of independent-minded 'gifted' soldiers. You've been there and done that. If you go away to West Nowhere, Iowa what are we gonna do? Talk to that freaky Greek priest? We need you. I need you."
They stared at each other for a while, until the food came. Steve ate his hamburger and, for the first time in two days, he tasted his food.
It tasted good.
He added some ketchup.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence.
When the check came, Steve paid the check.
As they got up to leave, Chris stopped Steve. "Thanks. I'll think about it."
That was all he said.
Steve processed the paperwork the next day. Chris put in for a transfer to the chaplain's corps. Steve wrote the recommendation, took it to the General to get his chop on it, then posted it to command.
The army would pay for Chris to study for his masters and, in the meantime, be assigned to the General's command as their assistant chaplain.
As he reached for the doorknob of the General's office, he heard the Old Man address him. "Good job, Steve. I would have hated to lose him Chris is good people. Chalk one up in the win column."
Steve considered for a moment before turning the knob. He could think of nothing to say in response to the General's praise, but he almost smiled.
He ate, but the food was ash in his mouth.
He had thrown away the BDUs from two nights before. The stains would never come out. He could never imagine wearing them again.
So he threw them out and bought a new set for "clean" operations.
Today he wore the ones with insignia that identified him as the General's aid. The ones with the braid over one shoulder. He wanted to have a beer with a new friend. Someone with whom he could share confidences, if they could find a "clean" room to share them in. Someone who could understand what it was like to do what he did for a living.
Lt. Chris Lewis sat down across from him, and the waitress, seeing him arrive, came over to take their orders.
Steve looked at Chris. "You know what you want?"
Chris reached for a menu. "Not yet."
"Okay." Steve turned to the waitress. "Brenda. Just two beers for now."
Chris put his hand on her arm. "No beer for me. A coke."
Steve looked at him quizzically. "Don't worry. I'm buying."
Chris looked at him, his eyes dead. "No beer for me."
Steve raised his hands in mock surrender. "No problem. Brenda, make that two cokes. We'll order later."
After Brenda left, Steve asked Chris "What's wrong? I thought we were meeting for beers?"
Chris looked at the table between them. "I'm leaving the Army. I'm putting my papers in tomorrow."
Steve responded in a harsh whisper, "But why? To do what? C'mon, Chris. I was there. I know it was bad, but that just means we need to work harder!"
Chris shook his head slowly. "I know. But I can't do it anymore. I can't stand on the front lines waiting to be the next one to die. The next one to be torn apart or..." He choked back tears and barely got out, "eaten. I just can't do it anymore, Steve. I quit." He cleared his throat.
"Okay. So you don't want to do this anymore. What are you going to do with your life?"
The cokes arrived, and they gave their orders. Steve sipped at his coke and looked at Chris, daring him to speak.
The words spilled out of his mouth before Chris could even think about them. "I'm going back to school. I'm gonna get a masters in divinity. I'm gonna be a pastor. I'm gonna build a church. I'm gonna get married. I'm gonna have a whole bunch of kids, and I'm gonna try to put this whole thing behind me."
"Chris, you can't just quit. You have skills and training. Knowledge and experience. The Army needs you."
He could see he wasn't reaching Chris. "You wanna be a pastor? The Reverend Chris Lewis? Then minister to those you can help most."
He thought for a moment. "Chris, you have clearances that mean we can talk. I mean REALLY talk about what it's like. What it's like to fight the fight. What it's like to ride herd on a bunch of independent-minded 'gifted' soldiers. You've been there and done that. If you go away to West Nowhere, Iowa what are we gonna do? Talk to that freaky Greek priest? We need you. I need you."
They stared at each other for a while, until the food came. Steve ate his hamburger and, for the first time in two days, he tasted his food.
It tasted good.
He added some ketchup.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence.
When the check came, Steve paid the check.
As they got up to leave, Chris stopped Steve. "Thanks. I'll think about it."
That was all he said.
Steve processed the paperwork the next day. Chris put in for a transfer to the chaplain's corps. Steve wrote the recommendation, took it to the General to get his chop on it, then posted it to command.
The army would pay for Chris to study for his masters and, in the meantime, be assigned to the General's command as their assistant chaplain.
As he reached for the doorknob of the General's office, he heard the Old Man address him. "Good job, Steve. I would have hated to lose him Chris is good people. Chalk one up in the win column."
Steve considered for a moment before turning the knob. He could think of nothing to say in response to the General's praise, but he almost smiled.