I've taken the liberty of foregoing quotation marks and a number of apostrophes for simplicity of reading. Just don't tell my graduate committee; they'd probably draw and quarter me.

Real Close

implications of slash

I'm not.

I'm not, but if I were…

He's something else, you know? I mean, who else wears a tuxedo around in the middle of a war? How'd he even get that thing over here? All those little things he puts on and all the jokes.

I don't smile a lot when I'm by myself.

There's too much goin on here. These kids come in, and they're dirty and bloody and cryin, and they want me to keep their money safe or write their ma or give their tags to their girlfriend; I look at a lot of pictures of girlfriends, real pretty ones. But while I'm sittin there holdin their stuff, he's got his hands down in 'em.

It's pretty amazing, when you think about it.

They're top notch, our guys.

And he's the best. Colonel Potter'll say so in a heartbeat, and Colonel Blake used to say the same thing. Everyone seems to want him, but we got him. Our unit, I mean, we have him as a doctor…

I don't have him.

I'm not…

We're pals. He doesn't ever look down on us enlisted guys. He's real quick to speak to us or buy us a drink when he's got a little cash. Of course he loses a lot of it at poker; he's good, but once he gets drunk you get a corner on the game. I do all right myself, but not up against you two. I'm still better than BJ though.

They're real close, BJ and him.

Real close.

Sometimes I see 'em sittin together at the table, and they're so close it's like they're attached at the shoulder or something. And when they're drinkin they'll lean on each other; sometimes they'll dance--I think that bothers some people, when they do that in public. It wouldn't be so bad if they just wouldn't be so close, but he always pushes it, leaning in and laying his head on BJ's shoulder. When Captain Hunnicutt's had enough (he doesn't last as long as Trapper, not with everyone looking) they walk home practically on top of one another.

That makes me think, you know?

Of course what I saw in the supply tent makes me think too.

Is it okay if I don't talk about that?

Thanks.

No, it doesn't bother me. Should it? You probably think it ought to, cause it's supposed to be a sin. No offense, but I don't put much stock in that. The way I figure it, the guy who wrote that book was all about love.

See, I knew you'd understand.

Why am I here?

I dunno.

Last night I was feelin down. I got that letter from my wife, then I almost sold my soul to the army! I musta been half crazy. But he saved me.

Yeah, maybe He had a hand in it.

But he really did.

Even though I was out of the woods, I was still down, real lonely. It was something about laying there in my cot knowin that she wasn't at home waitin on me anymore. No one was waitin on me.

And I got to thinkin.

About him.

I went to find him, Father. I got out of my bed and went to find him.

And he was sittin in his tent with Captain Hunnicutt, both of 'em on his cot. They were just sittin there, right up against each other, drinkin martinis.

They offered me one.

. . .

You know why I went there.

Sorry, I don't know why I'm crying.

It's stupid.

I'm not even . . .

But I came real close.

-end-

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