Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
When the day finally came for me to bug out, I did my best to avoid being alone with Doc Wilde. I didn’t trust myself not to tell him how much I cared about him and how, if something happened to him, I may as well lie down and die myself.
So when I gave him a quick final hug, I limited my words.
“Stay sharp. Don’t want you hurt,” I grunted.
His eyes widened and I drank in the cool blue for the last time.
“That’s the first thing you ever said to me,” he said.
“Maybe you oughta listen to me, then,” I teased, ruffling his hair like he was a pesky baby brother instead of the man I loved most in this world. I kept up the stupid smiling until I was a thousand feet in the air over the base.
And then I don’t think I truly smiled again until six months later when the first letter arrived.
As a senior officer in helo training operations at Fort Wolters, I spent more time at a desk in an office than I had at any of the past four duty stations. While I appreciated the ability to keep my uniform dry and clean, I felt antsy and untethered. I had too much time and energy on my hands. There were no emergencies to distract me or inside jokes with close friends to entertain me. I made friends easily enough with several of the other officers since this wasn’t my first rodeo, but it wasn’t the same as having men with you who’d been in the shit right beside you.
So when that first letter came several months into my time there… well, it was like holding a tiny piece of home—the only home I’d had in a long, long time.
Major,
Do I even still have to call you that if I don’t serve with you anymore? Just kidding. You’ll always be Major to me, even when you’re a lieutenant colonel or brigadier general.
So today we almost lost Dial. FNG tried to get the man out on the skids with a rifle and shit went fubar. Dial tipped out and dropped twenty feet to the ground while Lynch was pulling up. It was bad, Major. Real bad. Multiple leg fractures, severe contusions, and they had to do surgery for internal wounds. We’re lucky he’s still with us, no thanks to the flight commander.
Needless to say, we miss you.
Okay, I miss you. And I probably won’t send this. I’ll probably trash it like all the others before. But damn, Major. Being here without you is like walking around with only one shoe on. I keep stepping wrong and it hurts.
I’ve never had a best friend before, and things with you were just… easy. I miss that. I miss having someone I can look at across the table and know I don’t even need to say the words. Remember that time Franks told us he was going to the infirmary because he wasn’t feeling well and you and I looked at each other and started hooting with laughter? He still sneaks off to visit that nurse nearly every day, and lord only knows how many times she’s had to tell him she’s married. Poor girl.
So, what’s it like back home? Have you had a decent meal at a restaurant yet? Taken a shower and put on clean civvies? I miss my cowboy boots and jeans, but just the thought of wearing them makes me sweat even more than I am already. Oh, you’ll get a kick out of this. Captain Sanchez somehow got his hands on a window air-conditioning unit for our quonset. It keeps things drier. Of course we got it just in time for the dry season, but I’m not complaining. Maybe the sound of it running will drown out Sanchez’s snoring.
Dammit, Major. There’s part of me that’s so damned happy you’re safe, but then there’s the selfish SOB in me that would give just about anything to have you back in the portside pilot seat of our bird where you belong.
I miss you, asshole.
Doc
P.S. Send us a care package. Lynch wants Kool-Aid, Dial wants Mallo-Cups, and I want Junior Mints and jelly beans. And if you can find a way to send me Doritos… well, never mind. Not sure they’d taste the same in crumb form.
I read it over and over and over again, picturing his crooked grin and twinkling sea-blue eyes as I heard his familiar voice in my head reading the words. Surely I had a goofy grin on my face because that letter from William Wilde was about the best thing that had happened to me since seeing the man in person.
The next day I spent almost an entire paycheck at the local five-and-dime, buying up handfuls of candy and snacks for the boys including Jiffy Pop. I tossed in some new socks, a few paperback mystery novels, and a stack of newspaper comics I collected. By the time I packaged everything up and sent it off, I was kicking myself for not having done it sooner. I’d spent months feeling sorry for myself when if I’d just stopped and thought about someone else for a moment, I might have realized how easy it was for me to bring a little cheer to their lives over there.