WOW! I forgot I had published part of this already. I am really sorry to anyone who started reading the first 3 chapters and then I just stopped! The story is 95% finished, I just developed writer's block for the ending and need do some editing. Here is the fourth chapter and the next handful should be pretty quick to follow after this. Thank you if you're continuing to read!
Jack shifted slightly where he sat, keeping his eyes down, focusing on his fingers which had unthinkingly removed the label from his beer bottle and were now folding and unfolding the scraps of paper.
To everyone's surprise Teal'c was the first to speak, "I must agree with the parting words of JacobCarter's letter; I am happy in knowing that your life has become as it is now considering the path you took as a youth."
Jack looked up to his wise friend and tried to make as meaningful eye contact as he could, "Thanks T." Teal'c nodded solemnly, confirming the appreciation between the two warriors that was beyond their words.
Daniel adjusted his glasses, "Yeah, I mean wow Jack. I know that I've been glib in the past about the type of lives the special forces tries to recruit but I had no idea. I guess in some aspects you and I have more in common than I ever knew. I'm sorry."
Jack wasn't going to point out that although they both were in the foster system at least Daniel actually remembered his loving mother and father and was eventually taken out of the system by his grandfather; absent however he might have been. But still, he understood what his friend was getting at and mumbled his thanks as well.
A few moments of silence passed before Sam finally spoke. "I'm really…" she paused, struggling for the right word, "glad that you finally shared that part of you with us." She looked at him steadily, her blue eyes boring a hole into his soul and absolving his fears that she would think less of him once she knew his sordid childhood. "But, that still doesn't clarify what my father said. Why did he know you? What was the Jenks incident? Who is Bryant? What happened between then and now? We all know you well enough to know that you're smarter than you let on but a 'man who barely got his GED' would never make it high up the enlisted ranks, never mind become an officer and a pilot."
Jack sighed and scrubbed at the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, obviously thinking deeply of memories long past. Finally he nodded, "Okay, but we have got to get better seating accommodations because it's a long story and Daniel is about to explode from the sneeze he's been holding in for the past ten minutes…plus I'm going to need more beer." Everyone smiled in agreement and moved to leave the attic, laughing when Daniel finally did let go with a sneeze that almost sent him tumbling down the ladder.
Once they were all settled in O'Neill's partially packed living room each with a refreshed beverage, Jack began his tale again, "Where was I? Oh yes, so immediately after basic I was sent to Vietnam…
Living on the base in country was different than basic; life was less regimented and the sergeants were less strict. Even those who didn't want to be there were thankful to be on a secure airstrip as opposed to in the jungle so the anti-war and angry sentiments were far more subdued than I had experienced stateside. Even though we weren't in direct combat everything we were doing was real, there were no simulations occurring and we knew that we had to rely on each other and trust the guy next to us was doing his job right. It was there that I discovered how it felt to work as a team and discovered that sense of camaraderie I had felt missing during my introduction to military life.
Even though I was 16 by the time I got to Vietnam I was still 2 years younger than the youngest Airmen on base and clearly too young to be there. That plus not holding any specialized skills I was assigned to the grounds and facilities crew and I was the grunt of the crew. Everything you think of to be the lame end of military life was my job. I scrubbed toilets, kept the runway and tarmac clear of debris and plants, fixed fences, roofs, hauled trash, fetched supplies and swept what felt like every square inch of that base. I was happy enough; it kept me occupied and filled me with purpose but it didn't take too long for me to become distracted and to develop a fascination with the planes.
For the first time I can recall I remember being truly inquisitive about learning how something worked. Sure during basic I had been excited to learn about guns and explosives but I only cared about the power they had, not how they worked. Planes were different; I wanted to know everything about them; how they moved, why they worked and every little piece that was a part of the bigger machine. I began hanging around the hanger when I was finished with my shift and before long I had been, for lack of a better term, 'adopted' by the mechanics.
They showed me everything about the planes we had and I took it all in as eagerly as I could. I would skip meals in the mess for the opportunity to work with them on the hangar. I shocked myself by being a quick study and before long I was as handy with a wrench as anyone else in the hangar bays and spent just as much time among the planes as the rest of them. Even though the planes had the name of their pilots painted on the side I began to join the mechanics in thinking they were OUR planes, we just lent them to the pilots.
It's strange to think back on it because those guys were my teachers and mentors but in reality they were all no more than kids themselves. Gerry was MAYBE 24 and his nickname was 'Paps' because he was so much older than the rest of us. We were all so young but in those dark nights and in those muggy barracks we thought we were men. We would gamble, drink, swap tall tales of cars and women. I was more of a dirty old man by the age of 17 than most men ever are.
The pilots of course were a different breed; they were all college educated, most from decent backgrounds and several of them were close to 30 or older. They kept to themselves and didn't pay much attention to us with the exception of Major Jenks.
When we first met Major Jenks was on his 3rd tour, had flown dozens of missions, never lost a plane and never missed his target. He didn't drink or smoke but officers were always being given cigerettes and booze so he would pass them along to the mechanics as a way of saying thank-you for taking care of his plane. Even though I wasn't a mechanic he paid attention and knew where I spent my time and would pass me stuff as well. I remember he once gave me a cola and a comic book saying I reminded him of his younger brother and he was sad that someone so young was in such a place but I worked hard so he wouldn't make any waves for me as long as I stayed on base. I thanked him but wasn't sure what he was talking about. As far as I was concerned Vietnam was the greatest experience I ever had.
Really, for the most part, being on the airstrip offered a romanticized version of the war. I had heard about draft dodgers and men and politicians clamoring about the atrocity that was Vietnam but the air base was deep in friendly territory and heavily protected. My day to day routine was not too different than if I had been stationed somewhere in the states. Only occasionally did I ever even hear artillery fire in the far distance.
Once Jenks let us know that they would be dropping Napalm on a ridge close enough that we might see the light from the base. That evening after the planes took off we clamored to the roof of the barracks and drank and smoked and watch the air raid as if it were the Fourth of July. Now I know the horror of napalm and the civilian casualties who must have been hit that night and it makes me ill but that night I sat on that roof with my friends, warm food in my stomach, clean BDUs on my back and all I could think of was how the Air Force was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me.
