The Soldier Next Door

There are those moments that bring you pure pleasure and joy, the moments that you took for granted when you had them. And times like these, when your life comes to near danger every day, it is these times that make you miss them the most.

Now this Marine has taken his ass into to tent for he has never in his life possibly ever cried so hard. Hearing the voice of Matty coming through the line is that pure pleasure and joy that you feel.

“Hey bro, don’t tell me your big ass man is crying.”

“I am going to give your big ass man a slap for just saying that. How are you doing Matty?”

“Bro, before I even begin, how is it down there?”

“Loving it, every moment, just enjoying it.”

“Ya, it is only your sick ass that would say war is fun.”

I only but burst out in laughter to what is possibly very much the truth, but the real truth, “We are here to make a difference, that is all that counts. And you might as well enjoy doing it while you can.”

“How are Ana and the baby doing?”

“Yes, about that one.”

“Hahaha, I heard about the green truck. Bro, you sent the text but you are not even drunk. Now if that is not a dose of stupid.”

“God, I am so slapping you the next time I see you. But how are you doing?”

I can hear him loudly clear his throat and what sounds like, step outside the door.

“Man is it that bad?”

“Bro I got myself a bit tight deep into it here. Seems I was acting like my big brother and not truly thinking with my head.”

“What did you do? Or should I ask, what did you fuck up?”

“Katarina might perhaps be pregnant.”

“Damn dog, that is great news.”

“Hey let us not get ahead of ourselves, I said might.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

He goes quiet for far too long, which truly gives me the answer in itself.This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Hey, don’t stress so much, if it is time then it is time. But don’t worry if you are not ready. You will know what the best thing is to do.”

“I know bro, but ya, if she is then we might also think about moving from here. As you said this is not a place to raise a child.”

“Fuck Matty, you have not idea how great it would be to see you again. I have a rookie here that reminds me of you.”

“And let us guess, you slap him against the head?”

“Of course, no other way. But listen, I need to get going. It was fucking awesome to speak to you again. I will try phone soon again.”

“Sure bro, behave down there.”

There is a trickle of a tear, but enough of a sniffle to know that I am crying, and it is hard to have to drop this call, but before I fall into pieces.

“Love you, Matty.”

“Love you too bro.”

With that, I drop the call with a very happy but somewhat saddened heart. I wish I could be there for him now with this difficult choice that is coming up in his life, but I know that he will be more than ready whichever way he chooses. Though I would be so damn happy if he can move up to Pendleton, well that is if they had that in mind.

But bringing us back to choices, I need to decide what will happen to the squad leader that has, in full charge of his squad failed to see the basic necessity to protect a member of the public force out on a dangerous mission. There is not truly much I can do but can put them on cleaning duty for a week.

So as I sneakily make my way to the ops tent, I am called aside by Lopez, “Lieutenant, Sir.”

“Yes, Lopez.”

“You fee like going for a ride on Big Bettie?”

“Do you even have to ask? Where are we going?”

“Just routine flight.”

“Oh yes, I nearly forgot about that. To get eyes further into Fallujah. Count me in.”

“We are leaving in ten.”

Now the question begs, do I phone Ana or sort out a problem that requires semi-urgent attention. I am hinting at sorting out a problem for I do not wish for these men to see that I am losing a grip on things. Right now my family is important but I need to put the same urgent importance into the job that I am here to do. And that is to manage these men and make sure they work up to their optimal peak.

So I make my way to the battle ops tent to have a word with the freshly new Sergeant, which is clearly prettified of me.

“Lieutenant, Sir,” he but barely fumbles out my rank as he sees me approaching.

“At ease, Wilson. Now I am only saying this once. I am pissed that you cannot handle your command or the Marines under you. Now if I could demote you, I would have for what you did is fucking reckless. So, here is the deal. You and your entire squad shall be on cleaning duties for the next week. That means no action, just cleaning toilets and if you fail to do that right, I will get something else for you to clean. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, Sir, crystal clear.”

“Dismissed.”

Yes, I am going, to be honest, that I am laughing at myself, okay, more like pissing at myself inside. But jokes aside, it is time to board old Big Bettie. Now I can honestly say that I did not name her myself for the Bettie where I come from would have us faster into the ground than up in the sky.

Big Bettie is a UH-1Y Venom Marine Helicopter, fitted with a machine gun and cannon. Seats a Pilot, Co-pilot, crew chief, gunner, and 8 combat-equipped Marines. Of all the things that I still desired to become was a pilot of one of these mean babies. But guess there is only so much that I can stretch myself at. I have the basic knowledge that one needs to get you out of a bind when for any reason we seem to lose both men at the controls, but I shall admit I will not get you very far.

So we soon find ourselves taking up our seats in Big Bettie, the rotor blades are spinning ahead with full force, making hearing without a headset practically completely impossible. The vibration that travels from your seat to your body is like an adrenaline rush beyond compare. The excitement shaking in your bones as it slowly rises off is near damn intoxicating. Have the full might of such an incredible beast ripping through your body, sends tingles down your spine, and renders you completely breathless. Yet this feeling of being in the air, on top of all below you, gives you that sense of power that any man craves.

And with an easy lift-off, we are off to hover the skies over Fallujah. Our presence will not be undercover, we are there for all to see, but we will be on top of them before they can even think of making any sort of move. We will be gone even faster than they can set us as a target in their sight.

But that is what we would like to think. With this sense of security in our heads, we scan from the skies, the inner city to see the bouts of resistance that find themselves in there. They are freely roaming about, not showing much interest in our presence. They are but mere specs of ants that are going about at torturing their own kind and making their authority known. They infiltrate the city with the belief that we shall not move further within the confines of what should be a safe haven for the civilians. That is where they are wrong, and that is why we are now overtowering them from the skies.

So satisfied that we know where next to come into the city, we make it to the outskirts on the far other side, but out here it is fairly quiet and not a soul to be seen in sight. We only made this part of our flight know mere minutes before our departure from camp. More because that we did not want to spook the boys. But as it seems it was nothing to be spooked about as these parts which were cleared only but a few days ago seem to have remained unoccupied as we expected.

That is though a total mistake to feel a sense false of security, for from out of the corner of my eye, there is a glimmer of something shining in the later afternoon sun. Just for one moment, I believe that it is a sparkle of a window glaring in the sun, but it is not. Next, there is the unmistakable burst of fire and smoke that trails as the rocket leaves the launch. Mere seconds later we have been hit full on and then the most terrifying words that one can ever hear as you sit high in the sky with nowhere but up or down to go.

“Hold on, we are going down.”