My own private War

Whoa. There has been a book in the works at Movie Forums for three years now. I need to catch up.

Get off your ass and do something with your life!!

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“The gladdest moment in human life, methinks, is a departure into unknown lands.” – Sir Richard Burton

A voice speaks to me during a night of drinking on one of my first days back from Desert Storm. I am not asleep, but I am alone in a bathtub full of cold water and hot sweat in the housing unit the Army gave my family and I in Germany.

Something is inside every one of us; it is alien and does not belong. Maybe it is sin that the serpent in the Garden of Eden infused into us, or maybe it is a disease that is like cancer, but it is there and it is so much a part of us that without it we would truly be human and truly be happy. There is a hum inside every person that continues throughout their lives and most of us would die without it. Sometimes a person is born without this corruption: Mother Teresa, Gandhi, and Jesus, a few others possibly; that, in and of itself, is certainly an abnormal thing. I do not personally think that this invader has anything to do with religion, but religion has fought to banish it over history. I have dreams of forcing my hand down my throat and ripping this thing out of me, this thing that likes chaos and thrives on pain and sin.

I wonder if this was me talking to myself, either way I wrote these things down in my journal and they still haunt me everyday.

"I could never have children!"
"Why?", I asked.
"Because I have no desire, it would be unfair."
"To whom?"

"To you."

Now me

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Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, faithfulness the best relationship.
Buddha

Time can heal most wounds so I have heard. Just how long does it take to mend a broken heart and a broken family? I miss my wife, not who she is, because she has become someone else. I do not hate her for that, but I do know that who she is and who I married are very different. She waited for me over the longs nights when I was away; watching our young children, going through the motions of everyday life knowing that I may not return. Melody, I want to thank you for that sacrifice you and our children made. You cannot know how tough it was for me to come home and have my children not recognize me, not know their own Father. It was not then that you changed darling, it was years later that we drifted away from each other never to be in each other’s hearts again. You have found a new love and so have I and that is good, but the scars will never fade, they will never mend, so yeah time does nothing to heal my wounds. Penny, if you ever read this, I love you and our children more than anything on this Earth and you are my partner forever, I just wanted to finally say goodbye to her, it is hard to ya know?

One of the earliest memories of my life was Christmas time. I was 4. I remember the smell of puppies, (they do have a distinctive smell you know?). One of our mutts had recently given birth to a litter of 8 puppies and was out for a break. The little guys were about 5 weeks old and I was in the bottom of the closet in my parent’s room with them. I was covering my face and head with my arms and hands as the little doggies tried to lick and nip at my earlobes. I remember how they smelled so exciting and young and innocent, yet they desired so much and demanded so much. I envied their youth and I was only 4; I wanted to go back to when everything was given to me, back when I did not have to give up the teat or the diapers or the ohhhs and ahhhs of how cute I was when I did something new. I remember getting angry at the puppies because of my jealousy, but I also recall their smell again, and I could do nothing but let them nip my earlobes and lick my face and laugh at how it tickled.

You will always be cute to me Ohhh, Ahhh :kiss;

PFC Bobbio was sitting on the filthy open bay door of our 577A2 APC. He obviously did not hear me approaching to do a final walk around our muddy vehicle before we went home for the day. We had just finished a long afternoon of driver training and Bobbio and I were allowed to leave early once we had secured the Track. The rest of our section was going to be responsible for cleaning everything up and I knew it would be a late night for them. I almost felt sorry for the guys, they were currently on a break, but I had been stuck on cleanup duty with just PFC Bobbio the last four times we went out (we used to be the lowest ranking guys in the section, but since our recent promotions we moved up a bit in the world), so my “almost” sorrow was short lived. It was always muddy, this was Germany: where the sun made very few appearances and if it was not raining it was thinking about it. I think he figured I had already left for the day, but I decided to double check everything one more time. I did not want to get called back in because we left something unsecure. As I started to turn the back corner of the vehicle I heard a most awful sound, it was the sound of a man who had been made tough by life’s trials finally give up and break down and cry. I knew the sound well. I was torn between leaving him alone and staying to try and help. I thought about my own experience and knew that the last thing he would want was to have someone see him like that. I decided to give him a few more moments and then I would make a noise in the front of the Track so he could compose himself. A few minutes later, after he stopped crying, I took out my canteen, took a swallow of unauthorized liquid (kool-aid) and then “accidently” dropped my canteen on the asphalt. I let out an obligatory swear word and bent to pick my canteen up when Bobbio called out.
“Who is there?”
“It’s me”, I said, comfortable that he knew my voice.
“Why are you still here?” he demanded, although I think he did not try to sound so short.
“I wanted to see if you needed a ride home.” I lied.
“You know I only live two blocks out the back gate.” he shot back.
“Yeah, but it has been a long day and even two blocks might be kind of rough right now. Well never mind, just thought I would offer, we could always stop at Kissigen’s for some warm beer if you like (beer was never served cold in town, but they never asked for ID) if you like”
“Okay.”, he replied surprising me.

I did not really think things out too well because we were covered in mud and look like we just both lost a wrestling match. When we got to my car we both looked at the clean seats and at each other and laughed.
I had forgotten to bring anything to cover my seats in. Screw it! I thought and plopped right in, we were going to Iraq soon and the last thing on my mind was worrying about the seats in my beat-up beemer. Bobbio snorted and dumped himself into the passenger seat and without saying anything we both new I would catch hell from the wife for redecorating the interior. My car may have been junk, but we always kept our junk clean. I did not want to miss this time with Bobbio however, we were close friends, but he never shared much of his personal life and I respected that, but he needed a friend right now and I wanted to help. I skipped first gear, because it did not work, and puttered away in 2nd heading for the local watering hole. Kissigen’s was one of the biggest shitholes to go to have a drink and relax. It was rundown, the waitresses were rude and never spoke English, even though they knew how, and the bartender Ivan (yes I said Ivan) always called us (in perfect English) “pussies” for wanting cold beer. The music was awful and the smell although not quite nauseating” was something akin to stale brew. We loved it there.
We sat down at the giant polished bar that formed a U around Ivan, who was always there any time of day I ever went. He grunted and pulled two taps for us without asking what we wanted. I had forgotten how terrible we must have looked and asked Ivan if we could sit in a booth in the back. He grunted again and said something I could not understand, other than the words “dirty” and “American”. After a couple of warm German beers and hard pretzels we were both feeling pretty good and I asked Bobbio if everything was going okay. He slowly looked up at me and I could tell that he knew I had heard him crying earlier. He was not mad; I mean it was not really my fault, although I felt bad for lying about it now. He shocked me with what he had to say next.

“E”, as I was called by most everyone for the first letter of my last name,
“E”, I want you to help me kill someone.





**continued later**

You've lived through some cliffhangers young man

(With occasional cleaning breaks, i'll grant you that )

Keep it coming mate Stirling stuff. (And as Mrs Darcy says, difficult to reads at times, coz you're really giving here. I appreciate your honesty with yourself though, and that fact that you're sharing)

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Virtual Reality chatter on a movie site? Got endless amounts of it here. Reviews over here

I just discovered this thread and sorta "thumbed through" your drama. I've swapped war stories with some old salts in my time but, Son, your yarn takes the rag off the bush! This is the purplest prose I've read since Snoopy first typed, "It was a dark and stormy night!" Go to it, cowboy!

I was, of course, at a loss for words. The beer buzz I had flew the coup like a scalded pigeon and Bobbio just sat there in contemplative silence as I sobered from the shock. I wanted to say no, or why, or something like that, but instead I said who?
“Staff Sgt Williams”, he replied without looking me in the eye. If I was in shock before it was mild compared to the alarm I felt after hearing that name. Sgt Williams was an *******, plain and simple, but did he deserve to die? PFC Bobbio and I had been through a lot over our short time in the military and although I did not know much of his history, I knew he was a good person and something awful must have happened to him to make him want to kill anyone, even Sgt Williams. I would like to say that the thought of hurting Sgt Williams never entered my mind, but it did, hell I had thought of it before, but killing him? I figured at first that Bobbio was just upset and angry and did not really want to kill him, but when I finally asked him why he slowly lifted his head and the look on his face was haunting. Behind mud-caked eyelids, bloodshot eyes glared at me with hurt and fury, he was serious, very serious.
I asked again, “What did he do?”
“Trust me, he deserves it”
‘That’s not good enough for me to kill someone, hell I do not know if anything you can say is good enough.” I said, actually getting mad now that he wanted me to do this.
I could see him struggling, but he finally looked around to make sure no one was listening and then lowered his head again.

“Sgt Williams threatened me E, he promised if I told anyone he would deny it and have me court-martialed for some trumped up charge. Who are superiors gonna believe, a lowly PFC or a decorated NCO with fifteen years in?”
‘Okay, but why did he threaten you, how did he threaten you?” the questions were rolling off my tongue now.
“You know he has a German girlfriend he sees when he can get away with it right?”
We all knew Sgt Williams cheated on his wife, she knew it too, but it was something no one talked about.
“Yeah”, I said.
“Well did you know that the girlfriend is pregnant?”
“No”, I said, but I was not surprised.
“How is his business yours or mine for that matter?”
“I saw him beat her the other night, he beat her very badly. There was so much blood. You know me E, no way in hell I am going to let anyone beat a woman like that, I do not care what his rank is.!”
“What did you do?”
“I heard the commotion from my balcony; you know I live on the 3rd floor. Well I was sitting out on the balcony thinking about having to go to Saudi and I heard the yelling. He was angry about her being pregnant and he just started hitting her everywhere, then he started kicking her when she fell on the ground. I saw others watching, but they all scurried back inside when he glanced there way. You know most everyone in that area is low rank, I am not even sure why he was there, other than I think he has this thing for one of the new female recruits next door to me. Well I think his girlfriend found out and she went there to confront him about the baby. He was not too happy. He was so damn confident that no one would do anything or say anything. He was wrong. I yelled at him to stop and I ran downstairs and out onto the sidewalk. That girl was so bad off man, I mean I looked at her and at him and she was so still, just lying there. I went off, I started yelling at him and went to grab him and I even had thoughts of keeping him there till the MPs came. You know what he did when I clocked him in the gut? He laughed at me. Oh it hurt him, I know it did, he was not breathing very well and he was coughing and he even had a painful look on his face, but he was grinning just the same, laughing at me. That stopped me cold; I lost my nerve that has never happened to me before. You know me I am not scared of anyone, but I was scared, he is crazy.”

I had to stop and take it all in, but I still could not find it in me to think Sgt Williams should be murdered. Bobbio gave me time to put it all together and I just could not.
“I understand that it was an awful situation Bob’, but murder?”
“He said one more thing to last night E.”
‘What was that”, I asked afraid to know the answer.
“He said, ‘If you tell anyone what happened here or ever touch me again you will lose your rank and get sent to prison. If that is not enough to make you keep your mouth shut then you might want to think about how lonely your wife is going to be while you are deployed and I am back here comforting her and the other wives. They get lonely Bobs they get lonely.


***continued****

I have to jump in here directly and say that I am not sure of the exact words from that day, but this is how I remember it. I say that because I am sure the exact conversation was a bit more “confused” but the truth of it is there. I am looking at my journal right now and it is hard to imagine the feelings he was going through at that time. I have not read this in a long time and it is hard to write about it.

Thanks 7thboy

I hope there wasn't a line waiting behind you and your phone for four hours, Big Guy.

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It's what you learn after you know it all that counts. - John Wooden
My IMDb page

Always interesting thanks 7thboy

I lied. I told my Father a lie and I remember it to this day like it just happened. It was not a big lie, but I was scared. Not for me, but for my friend. If his parents found out what he had done he would get a beating, again. I was very tired of seeing him with bruises and broken bones. His story is his own to tell so I would not pretend to be able to do so, but I can tell you how it affected me. I told my Dad that my friend was allowed to spend the night, when in fact he was not. It seems such an innocent lie now, but then the weight bore down on me like an elephant on my chest. I had never lied to my Dad before. He knew the truth and when my siblings lied to him he caught onto it in an instant. I am not sure if it was how they told the lie or how their eyes looked when they tried to hide something, but he knew, he knew. I am ashamed to say that when I told my father my first lie he had no clue; he bought it hook line and sinker. I was good at deception I learned that day, and I am not proud neither now nor then. It was necessary though, sometimes friendship trumps blood, no – I take that back: he was blood, he was my friend and although we shared no ancestry, he was my brother and I would have died for him as he would have for me. I just want to say sorry to my father for lying that day, but I think you would understand now even if you would not have back then.

I laughed so loud at Philip’s attempt in using green camo’ to hide his dark black face that I was reprimanded by SSG Taylor.

“What the fuk is going on in here!” he yelled louder than my boisterous laugh as he flung the tent flap to the side, topping it by many many decibels.
I shrugged my shoulders and pointed at Sgt Philip Morse’s face.
SSG Taylor’s laugh was admittedly quieter than mine, but it was certainly more entertaining. He tried not to grin, he tried not to laugh, but in the end it came out of his nose like gravel being raked with a backhoe, and the smile on his face made me laugh even louder than the first time I had let go. Philip had used light green camo’ made for jungle warfare instead of the light brown sandy color needed for the current terrain we were in. He looked like” a neon alien with Dumbo ears”, or at least that is what SSG Taylor had said.
“Wipe that crap off and be ready to roll out in five minutes he bellowed as he about-faced and left with his nose still emitting snickering gravelly noises.

I threw Sgt Morse a wet towel and a stick of proper camo’ and when he started wiping off his face my mind wondered back to a memory I had thought forgotten.

I was all smiles and happy go lucky when I came home from a week long stay at a friend’s house. Inside I was angry and hurt and I felt sick. My emotions were all over the place because of what I had done; from excitement, to disgust, to confusion, they were a whirlwind of turmoil. On the outside however I wore my camouflage and obfuscated my true feelings.