"Corporal Conlon!" Drew bursts into our tent, looking like he's just run a mile.

I'm only half dressed at this point. I just got out of the shower and was looking forward to doing nothing for a few minutes. It ain't easy staying in fighting shape so far away from a gym, but I'm giving it my best shot. Working out is easy, but eating enough to bulk up is damn near impossible. The food out here is shit and I ain't eager to eat more of it than I have to. Makes me miss my Ma's cooking. Shit, it makes me miss Pop's piss poor excuse for cuisine. I wonder if Nicole can cook.

"What is it?" I try not to sound pissed off.

"You got a huge box in the mail, sir." Drew looks more excited than he has the right to be.

"What's that gotta do with you?" I shrug on a green t shirt.

"It's, well... it's addressed to all of us. But we wanted to wait for you to open it," Drew looks like Christmas came early. If I keep him waiting any longer, he's gonna piss himself.

"I'm coming." I follow him out of the tent and into the common area. He wasn't exaggerating. The box is big enough to fit a fridge. I feel the eyes of everyone watching me as I slice the tape apart and pull it open. There's an envelope on top, addressed to me. I pocket it without opening it. I want to enjoy it without everyone watching.

Styrofoam peanuts start flying everywhere as I pull everything out of the box, one thing at a time. There's a stack of DVDs on top, each labeled with a date and the name of a sports team. I barely sit them down before the boys are on them, dragging out a TV and shoving them in.

The first one cues up and it's a video of Michael Vick. Half the guys start shouting in surprise. It takes a whole minute to settle them down enough to hear what's being said on the video. Vick is talking to us, directly to us, using some of our names. He's saying the same crap people normally say to the troops, all that stuff about appreciation and we're behind you. A bunch of his teammates run in and out, promising to play hard with us in mind. The guys look stunned. Half of them are still kids, and these are their heroes on screen. While they watch the video, I pull out the rest of what's in the box.

It's dozens of footballs, jerseys, pads, shoes, all autographed by the entire Philadelphia Eagles team. It's everything you could ever want to play a football game, a real one, not just a pickup game in the dirt. The guys start putting everything on like it's dress up hour. There's enough for everyone. They sit around laughing, watching the rest of the DVDs. Each one has a NFL game recorded on it in HD. Nicole sent every game, from preseason 'til now, that has happened this season.

"Geez, Corporal Conlon," Chris says, yanking on an autographed jersey, "my girl only sends me cookies." I leave them to it, beating back to the tent to read my letter.

Dear Tommy,

It took me forever to find a box that big. I contemplated sending myself in it, but I fought temptation. That would be an uncomfortable plane ride.

I realize it might be overkill, but when you mentioned the Eagles, I went a little overboard. If I could have put the team in a box and mailed it to you, I would have. Unfortunately, they were not big fans of that plan. But they did agree to do a video for you. Gavin helped me burn all of the DVDs. I hope you all like them. It has been an exciting season so far. I thought you might want to watch it.

Also, I would not worry if I were you. There is no danger of me dating a football player. That would be a grievous conflict of interest. I don't sleep with people I work with. Except you. And it was just that once. Though, after receiving your picture in the mail, I am hoping it happens again, and soon.

I would like to point out though, that you do not have a six pack.

I counted 8 abs, Conlon. I didn't even know you could have that much muscle. Not that I am complaining. If I made that picture into a wall-sized poster, would you be freaked out? As for your dream, I wish it was that easy. Your bunkmates wouldn't mind if I spent the night, would they? We could get them some earplugs.

There was a lot of coverage over here of 9-11. It seems impossible that it has been ten years. Did you go into the service right after it happened? How old were you? We were just kids then and now we are grown and there is still no end in sight. I don't blame you for being depressed. It depresses me too.

It is cold here now, especially at night. I wish you were here keeping me warm. But, I looked at the calendar the other day, and I realized, by Halloween, you will be halfway done. That is something to look forward to.

Could you do me a favor? I need help picking out a costume. I sent you some options. Let me know which one you like best.

I hope you and your boys like my gift. Write me soon.

Nicole

There is a stack of pictures that fall out of the back of the envelope. In each one, she's posing in a different outfit. She's dressed like Batgirl in one of them, a referee in the next, and a football player in another. My favorite is one of her dressed up like a boxer, gloves and all. She's a lot more covered than some of the Halloween costumes I've seen, but even then, she's got me feeling hotter than any girl in a skimpy outfit has. Maybe I should be worried about it, but I don't even care that she's got me feeling like I have a schoolboy crush. If a hot woman wants to send me pictures of herself and stroke my ego, I ain't going to say no. Especially if it's Nicole.

Nicole,

Are you trying to kill me with those pictures? That was better than that whole box of goodies. The guys are running around like idiots, play pretending they're in the NFL. You made a whole lot of men happy out here, especially me. They wrote you a thank you note. I'm putting it in with my letter.

Halloween seems a long way off, and I don't even wanna think about how long it's gonna take to get to February. I'll be back right after Valentine's Day. I figured if you don't mind waiting, we could have our second date then. I liked the way our first one went, but I think we can do better. I want to wine and dine your socks off. And maybe after, some other stuff can come off too.

I was 18 when I went in. Ma had just died and I didn't want to go home, I had no high school degree and I didn't know what to do. So I became a Marine, just like Pop. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Serving my country was a better alternative to being a bum.

We're supposed to be getting orders here in the next couple of days. I don't know what's going to happen, but if I don't write for a while, it's not 'cause I don't want to. I'll probably be sweating my ass off somewhere, yelling at guys with thick accents who don't understand one damn word I'm saying. It always makes me feel like shit, being around the people out here. Some of them are living so bad, it makes my life look cushy. I don't think people back in the States really understand that. I ain't trying to complain, but we've got it good in America. People over here are living in hell.

The guys are getting antsy. The waiting is the worst part. Better to know where you're going than sitting around thinking about it. It's like being on pins and needles. Your box couldn't have come at a better time. At least we've got football to keep us busy.

I would write more, but I've got meetings today and orders to follow. So for now, this is goodbye. Take care,

Tommy

I barely have a minute to send my letter off when our orders come in. We're going to be backing up another troop almost 50 miles away. It'll be in the heart of the city. That's where all the shit happens. It's better to be bored in the desert than trapped in a place where anyone could have a bomb strapped to them. I ain't looking forward to it at all. I pack my stuff, just the things we need, nothing personal. But I sneak in a picture of Nicole and my book. Takes me a while to pick one out. I don't want to bring my favorite, in case something happens to it. It's safer in my foot locker. So I settle on the one of her sitting in the leaves, looking pretty with all the fall colors and her hair all wild. She always wears it straight, but I like it better curly. Reminds me of our first time, the way her hair would tickle me all over when I kissed her. It's the perfect hair to run your hands through and to tug on. Makes me feel special that she only wears it that way with me. She says she loves my hair, likes running her hands through it, but I don't think she would feel that way if she knew what she had on top of her own head.

I think about her on the way out. We're all bouncing around in the truck, quiet like we're at a funeral. Everyone's pretending to be asleep. I don't know what's going through their minds right now, but all I'm thinking about is her. She's the easiest thing to think about, the only thing in my life that doesn't come with a ton of baggage. So I pretend she's sitting next to me and that we're driving to the beach or a restaurant. For a while, I almost forget where I'm actually going.

But once we get there, it's impossible to forget. And it's hard to think about anything that ain't just surviving.


Thank you all, as always, for your kind words and enthusiasm. I hope you are all enjoying the story. Review please!