Summary: following are 12 stories put together, one for each month, little drabbles of life past and present.
Disclaimer: I write everything for entertainment purposes only. Don't sue me, I don't own anything, and I don't have any money.
I publish the first one today, as it is January 29. We follow Mac, on a little piece of her life before JAG.
Category: tragedy/hurt/comfort. This one I wrote ten days ago, but some are very old, partially rewritten, work.
January 29, 1994
On a battleship
Off Croatian coasts
Dear Uncle Matt
I write this letter to you from our battleship, where I currently am stationed for another six weeks. With March will come the time to go back home and to law school comes, where I will finally be completing me degree. I am sorry I didn't tell you, I didn't want you to worry. I know you, Uncle Matt. You might have come back from Vietnam with the Medal of Honor around your neck, but you still worry for me when I am in the middle of a warzone.
Thirteen days ago, a good friend of mine had his 28th birthday. It was the sole happy even here, in a world full of chaos, lost in the middle of a war. We had to celebrate, even if he didn't want to, all reunited to the officer's wardroom, with a cake and small, handmade presents. It had been a time to relax, to remember why we were here in the first place. I think he knew we all needed it, so he let us have a little bit of down, laughing time at his expense. This war is getting on our nerves, with everything we see out there, everything happening in that bloody part of the world.
Today, my friend died a hero. He received shrapnel, saving all our lives. Coming out of nowhere, just because he felt he had to, he protected us from an explosion on the road. We had all been there, in that uncomfortable ride. He had always been the designated driver, and we all knew that sometimes he loved it, and sometimes he hated it. Today, I think love won. He never was the easiest to deal with, but in his big heart there was a mountain of love for what he was doing, and for the people he was doing it with. He never knew how to deal with it, but we all knew he had it in him.
He always had a knack for discerning things, thinking in advance, feeling things how they really were. Thinking outside the box had never settled as well with him as it had with us, but he was proud to be the sixth member of our extraordinary little team. Today, he proved it all. He saw something on the road, and stopped our truck. Signaling the rest of us not to more, he stepped out, directing his steps towards the side of the road. We all watched him, approaching that small bump we could barely see. I think before he even had time to think, he just knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do. It wasn't rational. His innate instincts had come to life again. He reacted as someone who couldn't see the team he was a part of get hurt. I think he knew he was condemned. I saw him look at something on the ground, back to us, a mixed look of horror and understanding distorting his features.
He protected us, yelling to get out and behind the truck. I don't think he realized what he was doing, or what was really happening. He just did it out of friendship, out of loyalty, out of love. He just reacted, did what needed to be done. I followed his orders, and got the team out. We were a team. All officers, of similar rank, with various responsibilities, like logistics, nutrition, administration, training, plus our commanding officer. He was like our liaison. And he did what he did best. He made sure everything was in order, losing his life for it. We never really got to thank him for everything he had done in the past and present.
We all got back safely. I had designated myself to take the wheel, still in shock. We told the story, and our commanding officer made sure it was being reported through proper channels. We made sure he was properly recognized for his act of heroism, even if a medal for his call of conscience, beyond and above the line of duty, was the only thing we could do, now. He was our friend, my friend, of this uncertain but strong friendship that could have blossomed into a profound link along those lines, had he not been gone so soon.
The six of us had become a really tight team really fast, and we lost one of our own. I'll never regret accepting this three months opportunity to replace another Marine in the middle of my last year at law school, because of the friends I met, and the fair and concerned commanding officer we had. I know we will never see each other again, on the outside, once those months are over. I also know sometimes, I will think about them, and remember those happy, living, times.
For once in my life, I don't feel like I should be afraid of writing like this, Uncle Matt. I think that you will not be mad at me, or disappointed in receiving those few lines, because what I need right now is my family around, and not just the tough Marine, ready to do everything for his beliefs. I don't really write like the Marine I am, but it is all new to me. I had never lost a fiend to combat before. I hope to see you when I return, Uncle Matt. I really miss you, on the other side of the world.
I love you, Uncle Matt. I will see you soon.
Mac.
See you next month, with Harm and Letters of a new life, on February 23. Any thoughts?