Disclaimer: Due to technical difficulties your regularly scheduled disclaimer will not be seen today.

Authors Note: This is the follow on to the previous chapter "Doom On You". I'm going to give a rest to the 'Mike in Vietnam' arc. I've never served in the military nor have I been to Vietnam (obviously). I based this story on things I've researched and stories I've been told by Viet vets. Any mistakes are mine and completely unintentional.

Dedication: This story is for USAFCHIEF. Twenty two year USAF veteran, served in Vietnam. One of the people who've provided the blanket of freedom we've all been living under. For that he has my undying respect and admiration. This one's for you compadre.

Charlie Company hootches, An Hoa Combat Base, 0100hrs

Staff Sergeant Mike Franks USMC was drunk. Not knee walking commode hugging drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. Lance Corporal Charles 'Chip' Thomas , Third Platoon's RTO had hustled four cases of San Miguel beer out of the back door of the Enlisted Men's Club. The command group of the platoon was partying. Mike, Lt. Harry Kearns, Chip, 'Doc' Adler and the right guide Thomas 'Snuffy' Jones. Why the party you may ask? Because Mike Franks was going home in the morning. That's right; Mike Franks was going back to the World….

One month earlier

After the rescue of the Army chopper crew, Charlie Company returned to An Hoa. Several days later, S/Sgt Mike Franks was summoned to his company commander's hootch. On the way over Mike tried to figure why Capt. Collins would want to see him. No clue. As Franks stopped in front of the hootch, he shrugged.

Guess I'll find out soon enough.

Attached to the door frame was a piece of plywood painted scarlet. "Knock here. Await permission to enter" was printed in yellow. Mike knocked twice rattling the frame. Capt. Collins' voice came from inside.

"Enter"

Franks composed himself and entered the hootch. Capt. Collins was sitting at his desk. There was another person in the room off to Franks' left. Mike kept his eyes to the front. He stopped two feet from the desk coming to attention and gazing about a foot over Collins' head.

"Staff Sergeant Franks reporting to the Company Commander as ordered."

Collins looked up from some paperwork.

"At ease Mike."

Franks assumed the 'at ease' and saw the other person in the room was his platoon leader, Harry Kearns.

"Take a seat", said Capt. Collins gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

"Thank you sir."

After Mike seated himself Collins spoke.

"Staff Sergeant, it's come to my attention that you've gotten your third Purple Heart. Furthermore you're down to thirty days before rotating home. As of now you are out of the bush."

"But sir…."

"No buts Mike. If the company goes back out you'll be staying here. As long as Charlie's here at An Hoa you'll continue to function normally as Platoon Sergeant. If we go out Sergeant Jones, the right guide will function as Platoon Sergeant."

Mike looked stricken.

"Captain, please don't do this. If the company goes out and I stay here, I'll feel like I'm runnin' out on the guys."

"Franks, you've already extended your tour. Eighteen months in-country, a Bronze Star with 'V' and three Purple Hearts. You've done enough."

Harry Kearns spoke up.

"C'mon Mike, the captain's right. You've done your part and more. It's time to go home and get on with your life."

Seeing that arguing with the two officers would be useless, Mike sighed.

"Aye Aye, sirs."

Charlie Company hootches, 0110hrs

Mike Franks looked blearily around the hootch. 'Snuffy' Jones was passed out on the floor.

Always was a lightweight.

Harry Kearns and 'Doc' Adler were quietly debating the relative merits of Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison. 'Chip' Thomas was methodically sipping his beer and staring into space. Mike lifted his own can of San Miguel and sipped. The chalky taste of warm beer assaulted his taste buds.

Wonder if I'll ever like the taste of cold beer again.

Looking at his friends, a sudden rush of love and warmth hit Mike. He stood, intending to say something about how he'd been privileged and proud to serve with the guys in front of him. How they felt closer to him than his own family. When his three conscious friends looked up at him, he realized how cliché and sappy it would sound. So instead, he grunted.

"I'm gonna rack out. See you gents in the mornin'. Chip, thanks for the beer."

Thomas waved limply.

"Don't mean nothin' bro. Glad ta do it."

There was a chorus of 'Night Mike's' as Franks stumbled out of the hootch towards his own.

The next day, Da Nang Air Base

Leaving An Hoa was anticlimactic. Mike checked out of the company and his friends accompanied him to the helipad. Everybody was slightly hung over. Home address info was exchanged. As the beat of the incoming chopper's rotors was heard, embraces and 'take good cares' were traded. Mike climbed aboard the Huey and it took off. Mike waved and An Hoa faded away.

Several hours later, Mike along with at least a hundred other Marines was standing in an open sided shed waiting for the 'Freedom Bird' to drop out of the sky and take him home. Upon arriving at Da Nang, there was the usual 'hurry up and wait'. A uniform inspection, Customs shakedown and the assigning of roster numbers. Suddenly there was a buzz from the front of the crowd. A large white aircraft was drifting towards the runway.

Closer, we're getting' closer

As the Boeing 707 taxied towards the ground guide, Mike started looking around.

There's no bunker around here, be a shame to get mortared this close to goin' home.

The 707 stopped in front of the shed and the engines shut down. The ground crew rolled up stairs to the front and rear of the aircraft. A fuel truck and other service vehicles converged on the 707. The hatches opened and Marines started filing off the jet. Officers and senior NCO's from the front enlisted Marines from the rear. As the line of arriving enlisted Marines passed the shed, the catcalls started.

"Welcome to the 'Nam suckers!"

"Keep your eyes peeled FNG's. Nothin' but dinks for a hundred klicks around!"

"You'll be soreeeee! fuckin' soreeee!"

"Hey FNG, what's your sister's phone number? Address? I'll stop by an' tell her I saw yer ass an' it was still in one piece."

Mike took no part in the catcalls. He just chain smoked, tapping his foot. Finally the plane was fueled and serviced. Roster numbers were called and the home bound Marines filed onboard. As Mike entered the cabin, the stewardess, green eyed and brown haired said, "Welcome aboard Marine."

Seeing his first round-eyed woman in eighteen months (nurses don't count, they're officers) Franks could only smile weakly and nod.

Doofus. Real smooth Mikey.

Once everyone was strapped in, the pilot lit off the engines did a fast taxi out to the active runway.

Closer and still closer…

The 707 swung into takeoff position and charged down the runway. Mike felt the nose lift and the aircraft gave that little hop and they were off the ground, climbing steeply and turning sharply towards the ocean. There were scattered yells, but nothing like Mike thought there'd be. Mostly he heard breaths long held expelled.

Fifteen minutes later the brown haired stewardess came by with the beverage cart.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Prepared this time, Franks smiled.

"Got any beer in there?"

"Sure do. Bud okay?"

"Oh, yeah."

The stewardess, whose name turned out to be Jill, handed over a cold Budweiser.

"Thanks darlin'"

As Mike took his first sip of cold beer, he sighed.

Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life.

A/N: I had to work Tuesday night so no NCIS for me. But I did come up for an idea for a story for the season opener. Stay tuned. In the meantime how 'bout a review? Would it help if I said please?