Better Times Than These

The moon shone like a blind eye, edge hazed by the humidity. In between cigar shaped clouds drifted north casting aircraft carrier sized shadows on the field of cattails where C for Charlie company was waiting in its release point. Second platoon was off to our three o'clock about a hundred meters away with headquarters platoon sandwiched in between. The FRAGO I had just received from SFC Richard "Big Dick" Eaton said when battalion gave the word the plan was for all three platoons to come on line at the edge of the cattails then move into our blocking position. The chances of fratricide were in the single digits. I could fucking hear the transmissions from the CPT Elson's RTO.

 I moved down my fire team telling the guys the plan. everyone was soaked and shivering, all knee deep in a freezing slurry of sucking mud and water. It had started raining on us the first night and hadn't stopped for three days. The wet constant low fog, and wind had brought temperatures down into the 30s at night. I had never, in all my life been so completely wet for so long a period on dry land. The squads built super hooches next to the bonfires they lit with dental forms they were supposed to fill out for battalion. Short of running lines there was none of the usual assembly area activities. No fighting positions, no range cards, no wire. Nothing but a shanty town of woodland and olive drab shelters strung up beneath the trees. In the pursuit of warmth and an attempt to get dry the battalion had gone totally admin. Fuck. Yeah.  Did I mention that this was mid May. In Southern California? Camp Pendleton to be exact. Nobody had packed for this kind of shit. All you had to look forward to at the alpha alpha was a sodden Gore-Tex jacket and a mushy poncho liner. It sucked.

2nd Squad poncho super hooch. 

Duplantier shifted, making room for me, as I took a knee in the mud. "What's goin on, D?" He shifted his head just right, the moonlight highlighting his camouflage painted angular face in perfect profile. "You know," eyes slid towards me, mischievous smile on his face,"hang'n out. Like two balls in a thong."
 "Nice. Well done. Good timing, what with the eyes an' smile an' moonlight. Very Coppola."
 "Thank you, CPL D."
I gave him the FRAGO and he listened as intently as he always did. Duplantier wanted to get everything right the first time. That drive made him the most promising Soldier I had. His heart is what made him a good man and a damn good friend.

PFC Arnold Duplantier II

After I finished we sat there, listening to the sounds of Soldiers waiting in the dark. The sadness slid in, strangling sense of utter loss, and what was flaming into hate. I sat back on my heels and began telling him about it. How I was feeling, what it all made me feel like, my thoughts on the baby and on her and how it all made me feel absolutely powerless.

When I was done he looked at me "We all knew something was up with you. I won't tell no one though. But if you wanna talk about it later, CPL D, you know, go out and get a beer let me know."

He never told anyone . He gave me someone to talk to about what had been eating my insides for over a year. His gift to me way his friendship, trust and loyalty. All the things that form the core of a Soldiers heart.

Happy Birthday, my friend

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