Ok, I know it's been a while since I updated. So I hope this fills you up. I had a roadblock with worrying whether I would be able to write a war fic. Finally I decided to go with what I knew and just write. So, let me know what ya'll think.
Thanks for all the reviews…leave feedback please for this chapter!
Warning: there is cursing in this chapter; hell, you can't write a war fic without it!
XXX
Pony:
If I had thought Tulsa was hot and humid in the summer, then South Vietnam was sweltering. Only a week here, I was already sick of the weather. I briefly wondered what else I would be sick of when this was all over.
Wiping my brow, I hauled artillery and ammunition to the bunker. I grinned at the familiar scene across from me. Four guys from my unit sat on some ratty boxes playing poker and smoking. The radio played an Elvis tune.
Shoot, these things were heavy. I hefted the Browning machine guns around my shoulder to get a better hold and I stumbled, almost falling.
Instantly I heard one of the boxes scrape back and a familiar hand gripped my elbow.
"Hey Curtis, watch your step. We don't want you impaling yourself on those things." Bryan Crocker smiled down at me.
Doug Willis, the oldest in my unit snorted. "Might save the gooks some trouble," he said waving his hand at me. I shrugged him off. I couldn't figure out if he hated me or liked me. Doug was serving his second tour of Vietnam and acted like he owned the whole company.
"Here," Crock said and grabbed a gun with one hand, while flipping Doug off with his other.
"Thanks Crock." I let him help me out.
I had met Bryan Crocker on the plane to the basic training camp in Fort Benning, G.A. "Are you kidding me?" I had asked dismayed at the fact that I would only be a few states away from Darry and Sodapop; not an ocean apart as I had thought. I did not want any time to back out of this stunt…
"Ready to kill some gooks kid?" asked the guy who sat next to me. He was slim with dark features and dark hair. His smile was wide and steady.
"Isn't everyone?" I replied sullenly.
He laughed bitterly and then had said, "Yeah, me neither." Peering closer at me he had asked, "Just how old are you anyways?"
My mouth had flapped open but before I could say anything he interrupted, "My name's Bryan Crocker, but people call me Crock."
"As in 'crock of shit'?" I had ventured.
"Exactly." His brown eyes twinkled as he waited for me to introduce myself.
"P-Sodapop Curtis. Just call me Curtis."
He had broken into wild laughter, but for some reason I wasn't offended and joined in. It had broken the ice and we quickly became fast friends.
Cheesy, but true.
When Crock and I were done setting up equipment we rejoined the group at the table: Doug Willis, Shepard Parks and A.J. Sloane. We had all been assigned to the 9th infantry division were just biding out time until we got called into the field.
Most of the guys grumbled and complained incessantly for lack of action, but I was definitely fine with that. I picked up an extra deck of cards and shuffled them.
"Have you written any one from home yet?" Crock asked, his eyes on his card.
I bit my lip. I desperately wanted to write my brothers but couldn't bring myself to do it. Two months away had made me homesick but I knew that getting any letters back from them would make me want to jump the next flight back.
My silence gave him his answer. "You really should. I write Missy once a week."
AJ groaned. "We know, we know. Christ. We all have girls at home too that we miss. Only you don't hear us bitching about it."
"Your mother doesn't count AJ," Shepard Parks said.
"Yeah, but your mother does," AJ retaliated.
"Touche," Shepard said and tossed down his cards.
Missy was Crock's fiancée. Every now and then he brought her picture out for the guys to drool over. Crock was 25 and sometimes acted even older than Darry. He was constantly on the lookout for me. I think he knew my real age, but neither of us had broached that subject.
"I'm sure they want to hear from you," Crock continued.
I just didn't want to give them a chance to miss me.
"I know," I said and pulled out a cigarette. I smoked more here than I ever had. Standing up, Crock left the game and went back into the bunker our unit shared.
Shepard Parks put his cards down just long enough to throw a Playboy in my face. "Get a load of the tits on this broad." I felt myself turn red. Shep did everything in his power to embarrass anyone in his path. He was a short, blonde kid with a slanted smile. He looked incredibly young-younger than me even-but his voice was a deep baritone that shocked anyone whenever he spoke.
Thankfully, he was distracted by my packs of smokes. "Don't mind if I do," he said taking one.
Crock came back with a pencil and some sheets of writing paper. "Here. Make yourself useful," he said tossing them on the table. Eyeing him lazily, I plunked my chin into my hand. Picking up the pencil I began, "Dear…" that was when Doug smacked a hand on the table causing the pencil to make a dark, jagged line across the fresh piece of paper.
"I got it," Doug said laying down a full house.
"Jackass," I muttered glaring at him. I had learned real quick to curse as much and as often as you can and no one would bother you. Darry and Soda would be appalled; Steve and Two-Bit impressed.
"Kid, right now, nothing can put me in a bad mood." He smiled dangerously at me. I ducked my head and focused on the letter. So far I hadn't gotten myself into any messes; I wanted to keep it that way. Forgetting about me, Doug looked pointedly at Crock. "I got the stuff for tonight."
"That was fast."
"What can I say? I got the hookups." With that he slapped me hard on the back and pointed at Doug. "11 tonight."
"What's tonight?" I asked no one in particular.
"Oh ye of little knowledge…" Shepard began.
AJ finished for him, "Party tonight. Welcome us to Nam."
I nodded musing over this. Doug may have been an ass but he had served two tours of Vietnam so far. We all wanted to learn from him so we could stick around as long as possible.
"Can we do that?" I asked aloud, knowing I would sound like a little kid. However, due to insomnia one night, I had read the entire the army code and conduct book. Lord knows what Two-Bit would have had to say about that. "Isn't that against the rules?"
"Rules, schmooles," AJ waved me off, rolling his eyes.
"I wonder," said Shep "if you managed to get any women for tonight." With that, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me.
"This'll have to do," I said throwing the Playboy magazine back in his face. "Hope you have a good imagination." Both Shep and Crock snorted with laughter at the same time.
"There may be hope for you yet Curtis," Doug said to me.
"Ok. Leave me alone now. I gotta write this," I muttered and tried to focus on the letter despite the noise around me.
Thus, I began my first letter home, trying to keep it short and sweet. I was unsure of the response I would get. I didn't think they would still be mad at me…but you never could tell with the way that I left things.
Dear Darry and Sodapop:
I bet you two are awful mad ain't ya? I already told Soda I was sorry in advance, but now I'm telling you Darry: I'm sorry. Besides no one could've stopped me-I run faster than the both of you.
I hope things at home are going fine. Tell Steve and Two-Bit hi for me and I'll write them soon too. The guys in my unit are decent enough; I have met a few friends, which doesn't make it so lonely here.
I miss you all something awful. I'll be sending the money I get here home to you. Darry, didn't you say I needed to get a summer job anyways?
I'll try to write as much as I can. Hope to hear from you soon.
Curtis
With that I went to drop the letter in the mailbag. Catching my eye from across the camp, Crock smiled positively at me while Shep mimicked chugging from a beer bottle in anticipation of tonight.
I grinned. In spite of everything, tonight would be fun.
XXX
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