Desert Storm was a bitch, endless waiting and then fierce fighting.
I honestly don’t know the day it ended but I do know when it ended for Bob.
I seen the sweat on his forehead and thought holy shit that sucked.
Our mouths were dry as hell and we wanted to scratch our eyes out they were so itchy.
We both looked at each other and smiled. Both thinking the same damn thing, we are alive.
A few hours later our LT. came up and gave us a warm beer to split, I asked for a smoke
and he handed me a half of a cigar that he fumbled out of his shirt pocket. “All I got” he said.
Bob and I split the beer and smoked that nasty ass cigar laughing like a couple of 12 year old
school girls talking about what we would do when we got back, How many women we are going
to have sex with because we both know that we could have our pick (Foolish children we were)
I picked Morgan Fairchild.
Then we were off to another fight
I don’t need to go into details about the fight we were in; they all seem about the same.
They last forever and seem to be 5 minutes. If you have ever been there you know what I mean.
Bob was shot 3 hours later he died in my arms.
It took awhile for him to die; I stayed with him of course, talking about how he was going to make it.
I seen his eyes clouding up, He asked me if he was going to die, I looked at him,
smiled and gave him a hug and kissed his forehead, Held him tight, “Not alone” I said.
I have a warm beer every year, I drink half. It is hard to drink it down, Not due to the taste.
I hate this holiday, I am jealous that people are in the park cooking and laughing and having a great time,
I sit and clean my windows, Steam clean my carpets, plant my garden away from everyone.
I wait for the phone to ring, It does every year.
I always know the sound of the ring. His daughter looks just like him.
