Ron's Worse Nightmares

Prelude to a Dinner Date

By Pat Squared

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who submitted a review. I have been very busy and unable to make time to reply. I vow to be more diligent about it in the future. However, any excuse I would attempt to use in order to justify my lack of response would sound pretty lame. Even if true, excuses were always lame, so I won't bore you with them.
"You are almost there ... almost there, nineteen laps, one more to go."

Ron stifled another groan as he kicked off the pool wall to complete the final lap. Groaning only earned him another lung-full of chlorinated water.

It was amazing what a couple months of neglect and stress could do to a human body. Ron dropped from his normal 170 pounds to a mere 105. His torso had more stitches than Dr. Frankenstein's monster. One of the other patients described the scars as zippers and extra assholes.

The only nice thing about his new set of scars was the fact that it hid the old scars left on his back by years of childhood abuse.

However, the physical scars were just an infinitesimally small fraction of the scars hidden in the dark recesses of his mind. The physical part was too easy. It was just physical pain and all he had to do was keep on pushing until his body broke down and would go on no more.

Dr. Park, however, was the experience that Ron wanted to avoid. Unlike the head docs that operated from a book, Dr. Park knew exactly when Ron was trying to hide something. Ron was not ready to share the horror that molded him into something so despicable with anyone, especially one he considered as a pal.

There is only honesty between enemies, for lies are necessary between good friends.

However, Dr. Park called him out every time Ron attempted to bluff his way out.

Ron hated this. During Ron's freshman year of college, Ron used his baby face to make extra cash on the poker tables. He would just imagine one of his favorite songs and start bopping his head to the imaginary music streaming in his head. No one could get a read on him - The legendary goofy grin successfully hid a multitude of negative emotions since Ron was in Pre-K.

Now it was useless. It was like Kim's Puppy Dog Pout not spurring Ron to do some odious task for Kim.

Ron lost himself in the memories just in time to bump his head on the opposite wall of the Olympic sized swimming pool.

"Private, that's it for today. How many fingers am I holding up?"

The physical training was flashing the peace sign.

"Four."

The peace sign became the bird.

"I guess that I am number one after all."

The specialist reached down and with a single smooth motion yanked Ron out of the pool.

"Hurry up. You got a visitor tonight. Major Parks want you to shit, shower, shave, and remember your table manners."

Ron staggered into the locker room with the physical therapist following behind to ensure that the patient did not knock himself out on the wet tiles.

Kim snuck a peak at Ron's medical charts, courtesy of Wade Lode, but nothing could prepare her for the briefing giving to her by Doctor Parks. Ron was physically recovering from his near death ordeal. He was starting to put on weight and his body was mending with little sign of permanent damage considering how close he came to being cut up on the autopsy table. He was physically ready to be discharged and would be going to the outpatient clinic for the next month or so.

However, Ron was not ready to come to grips with his psychological injuries. Ron was a good actor - Too good for Doctor Parks to sign off on Ron's mental status. It was always the quiet ones that snapped the most violently.

Dr. Parks told her about how he once tried to hide the pain and then about his suicide attempt. Suicide and spousal abuse rates spike among soldiers just after they return home, because they can not emotionally connect with the normal world they left behind. Ron fit the profile of a potential suicide.

Kim and Dr. Parks came up with a plan to save the young marine.

"For extraordinary heroism as a combat engineer assigned to 3rd Squad,Combat Engineer Platoon, 1st Battalion, 5th Marines, 1st Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force in support of Operation VIGILENT WARDEN on 25 March 2008. While clearing the road between Malakal and Kodok for landmines and improvised explosives, then Private First Class Vasilii Boiarskii's motorized patrol moved into a coordinated ambush of rocket propelled grenades, and automatic weapons fire where all the other member of his patrol were killed by members of the Sudanese Islamic Militia when their HUMVEE was struck by rocket propelled grenades.

"Without hesitation, then Private First Class Vasilii Boiarskii immediately engage the enemy squad with accurate fire from his M25 United States Marine Corps Designated Marksman Rifle. He then made his way cross-country engaging targets of opportunity while traveling towards Firebase Gunsite Three to deliver the news of the ambush and vital intelligence about Sudanese Islamic Militia activity in the province.

"Four kilometers from his objective, Private First Class Vasilii Boiarskii, spotted a battalion-sized concentration of Sudanese Islamic Militia preparing to attack Firebase Gunsite Three. Instead of hiding and letting the enemy comment an attack, he single handedly halted the attack by engaging the enemy commanders with accurate rifle fire as they were inspiring the militia to attack. When his position was being overrun, he chose to demolish the building rather than surrendering.

"His ammunition nearly depleted and being buried alive in rubble, Private first Class Vasilii Boiarskii, with complete disregard for his safety, continue to engage the enemy with accurate rifle fire and continued his ferocious attack until he passed out from blood loss, forcing the enemy to delay their attack. When his audacious attack ended, he had broken up an enemy attack long enough for reinforcements and ammunition to be delivered to the beleaguered firebase, killed more than 80 enemy soldiers, including many members of the enemy cadre and commanders, and wounding several others.

"By his outstanding display of decisive leadership, unlimited courage in the face of heavy enemy fire, and utmost devotion to duty, Private First Class Vasilii Boiarskii, United States Marine Corps,reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service."

Ron knew that someone was going to put him in for a medal, but he was only expected the Purple Enemy Marksmanship Medal. He failed to spot the ambush. He failed to keep his squad mates alive. He failed and yet they called him a hero.

"Sir, it's all bullshit. My squad is dead because I messed up and did not spot the ambush in time."

"Private that is the last word I want to hear from your mouth until I am done. Understand?"

"Aye, aye, major."

"Aye, aye, sir! I am not some wet behind the ears refuge from ROTC.Didn't they teach you to say sir in the Corps?"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"Okay. That is what some chair warmer with stars on his collar board is going to announce as some general pins the Navy Cross on you. Sorry to dash your hopes, but if you died like you were suppose to, the president would hand your next of kin the Medal of Honor in some photo op. However, since you live, you got the booby prize, Lieutenant."

"I'm a PFC!"

"Correction, you were a lance corporal as of April 15th. However, you will not be wearing that insignia."

Ron wondered what was going to happen.

"I called the Marine Detachment at the US Embassy in Berlin. They are sending down anlieutenant and a couple NCO'swith two sets of the appropiatedress uniforms with the appropiate insignia and the sword. I will have a local tailor alter it to fit you, but it will be a little loose. We are going to handle the paperwork this afternoon and get you sworn in.

"Afterward, I arranged for you to go on a brief shopping expedition for some suitable civilian clothing and then enjoy an intimate dinner with a young lady. As an officer and a gentleman, I expect you to act nobly. Should you decide to spread pollen, please do so in a dignified manner."

Ron smiled at the joke, "Don't worry, I will tell the Frauleins that Marine officers do not accept monetary gratuities for rendering a public service."

Major Parks laughed like a maniac.

"You are the first bright, young Marine I came across. Because of your medications, I will insist that you don't drink alcohol or if you do, that you limit yourself to one small drink. As of 0001 tomorrow, you will officially be on out patient status. At 0945 the day after tomorrow, you will report in civilian clothing to Captain Emanuel Lopez at the Outpatient. He will orientate you to officer life and prep you for the award ceremony tentatively scheduled for this Friday at 1000.

"I don't want to see your ugly face except for our three times a week head shrinking sessions on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 1500. You will report to the outpatient clinic for physical therapy at 1330 the same days. Bring a sweat suit, because they will probably send to one of the German physical therapists. They believe that the best healer is sweat and pain."

"But..."

Major Parks shook his head, "Boiarskii, you are an interesting character, but you can't lie worth a damn to me, so don't even try to thank me. I don't want to see your scrawny ass no earlier than 1600 the day after tomorrow. Because of the situation, I arranged for you to bunk with Wolfgang and Anna Schlosser. They are Germans, god-fearing, church-going types, but they have agreed to extend their hospitality to a pagan such as yourself until we can take care of your quarters. Now sit down and start signing."

One hour later, Ron felt like he just signed off on a mortgage. He must have signed a dozen copies of a dozen different documents all of which had to be notarized. The paperwork made taking the oath seems easy save for the fact that Ron could barely hold up his arm.

It was past 1900 when the mini-bus dropped Ron at the address on the slip of paper that Major Parks gave him. It resembled a converted barn. Around the house were fruit trees, mainly apples. Ron walked up to the door, tugged his uniform jacket so that it laid flat, and rang the bell.

He heard the pitter patter of feet coming towards the door.