Three
Dwayne
It was still dark outside when I got off the plane. I was exhausted from the jet lag, so I retreated to the dorms and fell asleep right away. When I woke up, I was still stuck in a haze. The raw excitement of war was over, and all the energy was gone. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I did what I always did. I got up, smoothed the creases on my bed, and tucked the edges of my covers under my mattress, creating a perfectly flat surface.
When I stood up, there was a piece of lint stuck to the end of the bed. I pulled it off as I grabbed my things to go shower. I kept the water as cold as possible, hoping that it would shock me awake, but the fog was too thick.
This wasn’t my world. I was dreaming. When I woke up, I would be laying in a mud brick house with my gun at my side. We’d have our duty to perform, places to patrol, and of course, somebody to save.
The excitement never ended. The rush was always there, driving us forward. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself once that was gone. I couldn’t just sit around doing nothing knowing there were people out there that needed saving and killers that had to be stopped. The guilt would be unbearable.
The pain didn’t matter. I’d been shot nearly half a dozen times. There was scar tissue, sore muscles, and old aches that would never fully heal. But even that was comforting when compared to the meaningless existence I knew I’d have to go back to.
Civilians would never understand what it meant to live a life of worth. They didn’t dedicate themselves to anything, not like soldiers did. The world was an obligation that they were trying to escape. They hated getting up in the morning and going to work. They couldn’t stand the thought of having to come home to their nagging wives. The only comfort they got were the few precious moments when they didn’t have to do anything.
Real soldiers live for their duty. Every time they woke up in the morning was another achievement and another day when they had the honor of performing their duty. They dedicated themselves to saving lives, bringing men to justice, and taking care of the people that had their backs. Their life had meaning.
Once I left, I’d have to cope with the fact that I couldn’t be part of the action any more. I couldn’t save anyone. I’d never get a chance to bring a murderer in or save another child. All I’d have were my memories, and eventually, I’d lose myself in them. I was dreading it.
I was fortunate enough to have a quiet breakfast. Jason was still sleeping when I arrived at the canteen, so I didn’t have to worry about him following me around. It was simple, white gravy, sausage, and toast – the same thing I had eaten every day in basic training. I took my time eating as slowly as I could.
I wanted to delay the moment when I had to get on the plane and go back home, so I did everything slow. It didn’t matter. They were going to force me out at the same time no matter what I did, but I didn’t want to feel rushed.
My phone started ringing when I got up to throw my trash out. “Hello?”
“Howell.” It was my CO Jacobs. “Report to my office.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be right there.”
“Good, make it quick. I have something else I need to attend to,” she said.
“Yes, sir.” I hung up and walked outside. I took off at a jog and kept my eyes straight. I wanted to simulate that old life. I imagined myself standing in formation with a dozen other soldiers, sounding off as the CO marched us across the grounds.
When I got to the CO’s office, I stood outside and waited with my back straight. “You may enter.”
I marched inside and saluted her. “At ease,” she said and motioned for me to sit down. “How are you feeling?”
“Still a little tired from the flight.”
“That’s not what I meant. How severe are your flashbacks?” She noticed my hesitation. “I’m not asking from an official standpoint. If we reported every case of PTSD we saw, we’d go bankrupt from the burden of treating them.”
“This isn’t about my discharge?”
“No, you’ve earned your honor, I assure you. I’m asking because I want to make sure this doesn’t affect your performance at the company.”
“It won’t be a problem. They don’t happen every day, or even every week. It’s mostly when I’m anxious.”
“Good, it will probably fade over time. Mine did.” She said it without shame or even hesitation.
“Sir…”
“No, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t try to hide it anymore. I still get dreams, but not very often.”
“How long did it take?”
“Years.” She leaned back casually and smiled, an uncharacteristically casual posture.
“I got the job?”
“Of course, you did.”
“Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad I could help. You’ve always been one of my best men. Now, get out of my office. I have work to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
I found my way back to the barracks and into my dorm, where I changed into a pair of sweats and started my morning routine. First there were the stretches – my arms, my legs, and my torso. Then I moved onto jumping jacks, push-ups, and finally, I lay down on my back and crossed my arms over my chest so I could do some crunches.
“Wassup!” Jason was staring down at me holding a strip of jerky. He snapped a piece off like a lion tearing into a zebra. “Every single morning you do this. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
I lifted myself up, determined not to let him interrupt my workout. “No.”
“I hate PT.” He took another bite of his jerky and collapsed on top of my perfect bed. “I’ll be glad when I leave this place. I’m never doing another push up again.”
“Yeah?” I pulled myself up as high as I could go.
“And, I hate pull ups.”
“I see.” I lowered myself back down.
“Hey, you’re from Tennessee, right?”
“Yeah…” I pulled up again.
“It looks like I’m going to be there for a while. I have some business to take care of. We should get together.”
“I…” My phone started vibrating just in time. “Hold on.” I pulled it out and walked out of the room so he couldn’t hear me talking. “Hello?”
“Dwayne, it’s your mom.”
“How are you? How’s Dad doing?”
“We’re all good. Which would you prefer – chicken or burgers?”
“Why?”
“No reason,” I could hear her smiling through the phone.
“Why?” I pressed her.
“Just thought we’d have some people over — nothing big.”
“I don’t want you guys to go through all that trouble for me.”
“What? Of course, we have to do something. I miss you.”
“Alright, alright,” I conceded. “It would be nice to see everybody.”
“Good. Chicken or burgers?”
“Ribs.”
“I knew you’d do that. Your father’s going to go all crazy making his special sauce and a huge mess in the kitchen, and I’m going to have to clean it all up. I was trying to avoid this.”
“Ma, don’t worry. Tell him I want Hellman’s and don’t let him get anything else. Say that I insisted.”
“He’ll think you don’t like his sauce.”
“It’s because of a special diet.”
“I like that. Is there anything else you want?”
“No, don’t get me anything.”
“I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up.” She moved something over the receiver to create fake static.
“Fine, fine. Do whatever makes you feel good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Alright, sweetie. I love you.”
I had forgotten how much I missed home. I used to think about going back every day, especially when I first started basic training and they were waking us up after two hours sleep to force us to work out.
I’d hated everything about the navy. Over time, I adapted. It became my new normal, and I forgot about all the things I missed back home, like chocolate sundaes from the ice cream parlor across the street from my house or the lake we used to go swimming in when we were children. It seemed impossible for those things to exist in the same world as burkas and IEDs.
I had to experience all the pleasures of home again, not so I could enjoy myself. I was going to do that no matter what. I had to know that they were real and that the desert from my flashbacks was just a fading nightmare. I was leaving it behind — all of it.