Rehab Pt. II

Aside from AF troops, friendly locals, and new boredom battles, how else did life change, David? As if the scenery of the beautiful Yukon and numbing anti-psychotics wasn't enough? Still though, there honestly wasn't that much change from what we were used to dealing with even in peacetime Montreal. Although, some of the non-changes were coincidental.

For instance: the only communications with friends and relatives were still just letters. I couldn't tell you if each letter to the home front was still meticulously read for anything about Canadian operations, but that had been brainwashed out of us long ago. I will mention that we simply weren't sure if we'd ever be allowed to "Call" home. I only say that because we eventually learned that not one of the homes in the worker's village had a phone or payphone, and comms with Juneau were done over military radio. Either way, that didn't bother us considering people heard about my personal phone story with a hefty amount of skepticism. Another reason none of that bothered us was because letters and even weekly news were far more regular than in Montreal. Despite how isolated we were in the Yukon wilderness, we were kept up to date on events at home better than ever. More on that later.

So, the biggest difference between LM-5 and Montreal or The Square was the amount of freedom we had. Of course, there were still the crews that patrolled the worker's village, and even night watches, but for most of us, after the day shift was over, we were free to do whatever. I'll skip how leave still wasn't even a thought because Sherman never leaves, and instead say how our old replacement for that (The R.C.) was in turn replaced by "Day trips."

In something that may be unheard of even to troops on the Alaskan Front, we at LM-5 occasionally had the weekend off. I am not lying. On those free weekend day trips, troops would take a few pals into the woods with some of the lumberjacks and hunt. Other activities included fishing on the banks or on a raft in the middle of the Teslin River. One group from Reed's platoon even dedicated an evening to a ritual-style fight club sort of thing in the woods where they fought hand to hand with each other and even some of the biggest lumberjacks at LM-5. After which, they had a bbq. I am not kidding when I say that the new duty station was like a rehab center or some fun summer camp.

Day trips included all sorts of things unavailable to us only a year prior. Even though day trips were full of fun, even after the shifts, many would simply sit on the back porch of the Quarters buildings and just look out at the meadow, river, and sunset. None of which were things we had for so long. Peace, serenity, hope, and beauty had finally returned to lives plagued by horror for so long.

Some reading this may wonder how long it took for this place to establish peace in our minds and beings. Aside from the occasional nightmares and eventual battle with boredom, the peace put inside our minds hit almost immediately. It actually probably happened in the trucks or the first time I saw the sun in 7 years, but the change I saw in myself was the same change I saw in everyone. Even as the days went on, and the longer I was at LM-5, there were several after-work periods where I joined a group from my platoon to look out at the river and watch the distant mountains. Transfixed on the colors of the sky, I'd hear people sit down beside me and begin enjoying the same picture I was looking at.

I'd look to my right and see Savaren, my best pal who always yanked me out of whatever craziness I was in, sitting right there knowing we went through it together. Then I'd see Andrews, my usually quiet friend and medic who physically saved me so many times whether I wanted to be saved or not. Stiles sat there quietly waiting for an order from his old squad leader and knowing he'd gladly take on whoever may have wanted to interrupt the moment of peace. Beyond him, I'd see Collins who was the lowest-ranked of my pals, stagnant in rank because of the screwed up Annex command structure, but always ready to join my side or be an ear to listen when the memories came. Hill was always beside Collins, chatting up whichever face was closest, talking about you name it, and appearing as if Montreal never affected him solely because it didn't when he was busy watching his pal's backs. Looking to my other side, I'd see Rowland who'd always joined me in the moments of psychosis and went above and beyond Sherman only to be drugged up and left with still memories of those days, unsure of what to do with them in the new environment. Beside him sat Reed who shared that strange and almost unexplainable bond with me as well as a mutual need for the drugs necessary to cope. Still being heavily involved in fraternization, Lt. Royce and Captain Mosby would sit down, each numb to the same drugs and remembering the orders they had to ensure we carried out only to be spared mentally and physically by the same landscape we were all looking at but didn't deserve.

At some point, somebody would get hungry, stand up, make the offer to everyone near, and then we'd all make our way over to that other R.C. replacement at LM-5: The mess hall.

Nights off duty were usually quite amusing because we hung out in our comfy barracks or in the mess hall. The workers would join us for meals at times and we would have a blast. As I said, it took a little while for us to get used to the workers, but they did become some of our best pals, and some of them were actually very funny. The smell of the fireplace and wooden walls added to that homely feeling of both the barracks and mess hall. I say how the mess hall reminded me of the Montréal Rec. Center only because of the community atmosphere. Where we used to enjoy chatting with soldiers from different firebases, we now enjoyed chatting with the workers who'd been here the whole war. That was where we learned about the workers' stories and grew to bond with them the best. That big log mess hall eventually became home to regular fun and amusement. There were countless nights of eating contests, drinking contests, arm wrestling, card games, and singing. I surprisingly enjoyed the singing. The lumberjacks knew a bunch of folk songs and welcomed the drunk soldiers who loved to join in even though they didn't know the words. Mr. Tuck, my favorite Canadian I mentioned, even played an acoustic guitar for the chorus of lumberjacks. Sometimes, he would even sing the songs that his grandfather made when he was a young man. Mr. Tuck's songs were good, but a little too depressing for my taste, unlike the fun and usually upbeat lumberjack songs that most of us troops happily looked like idiots rejoicing to.

I can't stress enough how little it felt like we were still in the army. Regardless of the usual evening fun and day trips, I'll say again how most of the LM-5 security job was beyond boring.

After a couple of eventless weeks after our adjustment, I even saw Captain Mosby gently knocking his head against the wall out of boredom, and others smacking their own heads to stay awake on watch. Though I never wanted to go back to Montreal, that toxic city was definitely more exciting (At least during the usual watch or patrol). Adrenaline is a drug, and many of us were getting some withdrawals. Montreal was horrible, but knowing you could get shot any moment, or go maskless to breathe in some intoxicating poisonous fumes weirdly has a good side. After a while, I started to look back fondly at memories of taking potshots at Red Zone "civilians." No matter how boring things got, we had no intention of giving our new Canadian pals a reason to hate us.

So, the days on watch passed slowly just watching the workers work. The best part of my day before the end of the shift was making the rounds to each of the other posts around the complex. Even true infantry jobs like mopping or sweeping started looking fun when you spent too long daydreaming about nothing. I never would've thought that I'd so enjoy filling out supply forms or creating more shift rosters just to combat boredom. However, every now and then, something vaguely exciting happened. One day, I heard that some guys got to shoot up a grizzly bear clawing at the western fence. That must have been fun, but the hours were always slow till the end of shift freedom.

2 months later- Age 24- 2074

It had reached November 2074, and I liked LM-5 in so many ways. The chow hall food, atmosphere, and people were far better than anything I experienced in years. Even the changing weather and regular snow was something miraculous on its own. The only downside was that unending boredom on shift I explained earlier. On the upside; we came up with new and more "Innocent?" ways of fighting boredom than ways we had in that city. For instance, some of those ways came in the form of the regular news that I hinted at earlier. Personal letters weren't the only mail we were able to receive regularly.

Technically being part of a front that the US Govt. actually cared about, we got a steady stream of updated news on everything happening in the US and the other fronts. I never really realized how much I missed being informed in Montréal, since most of the peacetime communications measures were still largely restricted or censored.

So, with the unending boredom and regular news, attempts were made at amusement. War was still all over the place, but since LM-5 didn't really make us feel like we were part of a war, many of us skipped the articles about battles and went straight to celebrity news. What started as magazines that we'd make fun of soldiers for reading eventually turned into a religious practice and way of life for us Annex troops at LM-5. Some of the guys had even gotten to the point where they placed bets on how long they thought celebrity relationships would last. Isn't that sad? It wasn't long until I gave in and put my money on Dean Domino and Vera Keyes' relationship lasting until 2077. I was told I had to be more specific with my wager when trying to infiltrate the upper echelon of lower enlisted bullshit junkies, so I threw out a random month of October 2077. Since we were no longer trying to survive every day or busy going crazy, there was something comforting about being concerned with petty bullshit.

I again was reluctant at the start, but I quickly began getting heavily involved in the Hollywood news and started taking other bets based on my casual wager turned dead serious. Once my bet was in place, it too wasn't long before I was seriously trying to convince others in the circle that I was right about my selection for celebrity nonsense. I, "Sergeant First Class David Levin", the man who was patient 0 for experimental anti-psychotics at The Square and a former hallucinating psycho murderer, once got into a two-hour long argument with a specialist about Vera Keyes' other "relationship" to that billionaire, "Frederick Sinclair."

My friends and other soldiers mockingly watched the argument, but soon started throwing in their bits of agreement or disagreement as to who was right. Others began to see as well how there was something captivating about watching people passionately debate one another, even if it was about things that didn't matter.

So, that retarded E-3 tried convincing me that Vera Keyes was ACTUALLY in love with Frederick Sinclair! Anyone who's even glanced at a "Hollywood Weekly" knows that she wouldn't keep Dean Domino around if she was in love with that prick billionaire. "Just friends" my ass! She's known Dean for years, and Dean's probably got her digging in Sinclair's pockets just waiting to collect! I don't care what you hear, that "Thing" between Vera and Sinclair is fake; she's just a puppet for her main man, Dean Domino.

Some other dipshit E-2 said, "But Sarn't Levin, have you seen the picture of Vera and Sinclair during her award last year? Look on his face says it all!"

Me and my gang on Team Dean shot back, "That don't mean shit! What does HER face show? I'll tell you: Pure pity. Sinclair could fall head over heels, and that still don't explain why Dean's right next to her every second she ain't with Mr. Moneybags. Have you Even studied Sinclair's investments? He's headed towards financial ruin in a matter of months, and you can bet that whatever you THINK they have will be gone when his money runs out. And who'll be right there when Sinclair's money is gone? Oh yeah? My Man Dean Fucking Domino! And don't even get me started on Sinclair's casino project!..."

I was looking at behind the scenes shit. While everyone was busy looking at the focus of those paparazzi pics, believing what was in front of them, I see who's in the background. "Sinclair and Vera" Ha! Dean's too cool to be a third wheel without a good reason. Plus! Vera would've been a star on The Square's porn projector if it wasn't for Dean who was right by her side during her entire rise the past few years (The past few years I was focused on going crazy)...

Being so thorough in my research on celebrity shit really made me realize how much I missed out on in Montreal the past few years... What I would've given to have been there for the premier of Vera's role in "Love Sets Sail." I'm pretty sure I was watching a firing squad of some boys who couldn't handle the Sherman style that day, completely unaware that Dean had just cemented his legendary status by turning a beautiful nobody into a full fledged sensation of the silver screen...

Anyways, we generally ignored war related news at LM-5, but every once in a while, a news article would catch our eye that went something like, "Chinese Garrison surrenders, 200+ captured." Or, "Push on Tanana Park Opens Road to Fairbanks" The news from the Yukon territory was at least semi-important because of how close we were. Overall, nothing big happened here and I liked it that way… In a sense.

The days were speckled with bits of something, but still lots of nothing. The occasional event like that bear at the fence, a convoy of AF troops, or even a random hunting trip was the relief we needed. Given the superfluous amount of nothing, there were times even only after a couple months that I almost forgot how to operate my weapon. Like, in late October, I once took the shot at a deer on one of those day trips, but forgot I had my rifle set to burst. So, when I pulled the trigger, three bullets went straight through its body only sorta where I aimed. It fell over dead, and despite the hollow-point rounds scattering and decimating its insides, we ate well in the chow hall. It's sort of strange how you can sometimes spend so long with instinctive training, and then lose that skill to boredom and laser focus on celebrity relationship gossip.

Events and non-guard related activities were rare, so our usual escape from LM-5 was the news. I went into the celebrity pools and other nonsense, but I really liked how recent the newspapers were. LM-5 was just a hundred miles from Juneau (Still as the bird flies), and though that seems pretty far for an east coaster like me, the Canadian and Alaskan countryside is vast. 100 miles is nothing out here, and since Juneau is so close, info is readily available. Whether that info was relevant to us or to the war didn't matter. Hearing about something other than the jammed saw blade or the late shipping truck was a godsend.

In case I hadn't clarified, the significance of Juneau was that it's been the headquarters of the US Army for the Alaskan Front since the invasion of 2066. 8 years after the first Chinese forces landed in Anchorage Bay, our forces still flowed through that city on the way to the Yukon or other wintery warzones. The amounts of soldiers in Juneau outnumbered civilians 6 to 1 even in the early stages of the war, and was still a prime target for bombings. The city houses the commanders of the Alaskan Front, and the flow of troops through it had never stopped. Despite the Chinese numbers, they were never able to take it no matter how close they got and despite the ups and downs of the war. I was not made aware of the tips in the scale until I got to LM-5, but in late 2074, our soldiers were on a serious offensive. Throughout the Yukon and along the pipeline, our guys were pushing on through the wilderness campaign that too was a big tug of war. With the war going the way it was, and given how far the lumber mill was from the actual fighting, I really felt that I could wait out the rest of the war at LM-5. I was comfortable feeling that the only battle I was likely to be in was the battle against boredom.

My securities about my own personal safety was also bolstered by the fact that 50-60 miles to the northwest was a Mechanized Infantry outpost in the mountains. They patrolled the area and watched out for Chinese counterattacks or possible raiding groups. Raid groups were the only thing we had to worry about, but the Chinese were too busy fending off the Americans who were pushing on through the Yukon with a momentum never seen before. If the AF troops in those occasional convoys were correct, the Wilderness Campaign's goal was Fairbanks Alaska, one of the last big strongholds up there before an offensive on Anchorage could be initiated.

The mechanized base's response channel call sign was, "Task Force Steel."