***
01 Jan 2006
Sgt Freckles,
Yeah, pissed me off too but I'm outta here inthree days and a wake-up. Catch you on the flip side.
Keep your head and ass down. If you do get shotdo it in the head. An ass that good shouldn't get fucked up.
Phillip.
***
09 Jan 2006
Phillip,
You're home now. It's good. Have a beer forme.
Ryan.
***
Ryan loved Fort Hood. The weather rocked mostlyand it was a damn sight better than Iraq. He pulled his pick-uptruck into the parking spot outside of the main PX. He had beenpleasantly surprised to see Patrick had already been there.
It had been a minor miracle that had them bothstationed at Hood. Ryan was very thankful for it though. Patrickhad two tours under his belt and Ryan was working on his third. Ithad been crazy since basic, some five years ago.
Brendon was still kicking it up over at FortLewis. Ryan kinda missed the kid. They hadn't seen each other sincebefore Ryan shipped to the freaking box. It had been good to gethome after fifteen months.
Kenneth had gotten out a few years back. Thestress of being a combat medic got to him, not that Ryan blamedhim. Some days he thought it would be a good time for him to getout.
He grabbed the black Stetson on the seat besidehim, and pulled it low on his head. The gold braid band was sittingin its spot.
“Ryan, you just like wearing the hat and spursbecause it makes you look like a cowboy.” His best friend Patricklaughed, as he pulled in next to Ryan on his motorcycle.
“Yeah, cause the ACU digi pattern is what allthe cool cowboys are wearing this year,” Ryan replied dryly.
“Holy shit! Freckles, aren't you just a sightfor sore eyes.”
Ryan would know that voice from anywhere. It'sthe only voice that made a cold sweat break out on his skin. Heturned slowly and blinked. Sitting behind the biggest fucking blacktruck he had ever seen was none other than Drill Sergeant PhillipGrabowski.
Ryan considered himself a good, proper soldier.He had great military bearing and he damn sure wasn't a green FNG.But seeing the Drill Sergeant again made him want to stand at‘parade rest.’ “Drill Sergeant Grabowski,” he said, by way ofgreeting. He felt like ramming his head into his truck. He feltlike such a dork.
“Keep that up, Sergeant.” Grabowski slurred thewords out, making them sound a helluva lot dirtier than they were.“Freckles, I might think you liked me dominating the hell out ofyou.”
Patrick was biting his lip to keep fromlaughing. He cleared his throat. “So,DrillSergeantGrabowski, you making a statement with that truck of yours? Overcompensating for somethin’?”
Ryan could kill Patrick and probably get awaywith it. Damn combat stress anyhow.
“I dunno, maybe you should ask your buddy,”Phillip said, laughing.
Ryan sighed. This was why he refused to buy alottery ticket. His luck sucked. That could only explain why DrillSergeant Fucking Grabowski would be at Hood at the same fuckingtime as him. “It wasn't anything to write home to momma about,” hemuttered.
“Dude!” Patrick's eyebrow raised and he burstinto laughter. “You walked like a fucking duck all day.”
“You know, Patrick, they say that combat stresssometimes takes a while to manifest. I been home for like sixmonths now and I'm starting to feel stressed.” Ryan spokeoffhandedly.
“You know what your problem is?” When Ryandidn't answer Grabowski finished anyway. “You don't get laidenough.”
