"Hey, where the fuck did you go? You haven't said two words since Baghdad."
Ray shrugs "No more Ripped Fuel." Lie. "Man, it seems no matter where we go as Marines, it's always some fucking shit-hole." Well, so as the Paratroopers actually, because Easy is always in fucking shit-hole since D-Day.
How the fuck he can explain he missed Easy. He desperately wants to connect to the internet and googling for Easy. Alas, he's still in this clusterfuck that finally has official name; Operation Iraqi Freedom. Freedom my ass. Operation Iraqi Fucked-up is more appropriate.
Brad looks like he's not 100% believe it, but before he can ask for more, Reporter walks up and saying good bye.
Then Poke comes, tossing a football "Hey, yo. We're gonna play some guys from Alpha. You guys up for that? Hoorah, motherfuckers."
Maybe playing football can help him to forget Easy for a while. "Fuck it. I'll play."
Brad smiles "Back among the living?"
Ray can't return the smiles.
But playing football with pent-up frustration turns out is a bad idea. Somehow, in the middle of the game, Ray snapped and hit Rudy. Rudy get mad and pinned Ray. Ray got increasingly furious and starts yelling, his throat hurts.
And then crying. Fucking crying like a bitch.
For his fucked up life, thrown into two wars in one life time. For feeling like he betrayed Bravo by missing Easy every damn time. For George, Frank and Bill who he never had chance to say goodbye. For Winters, Nixon, Speirs, Lipton, Welsh and Buck who he never had chance to say that he admires their leadership, selflessness and bravery. For Hoobler, Dukeman, Muck, Penkala and other Easy men who shredded into pieces in France, Holland and Belgium. For loyal-as-fuck Easy men in general. And for his Gramp that he missed so much. And for feeling all the above that a badass Recon Marine shouldn't feel.
Brad might say something afterward, but Ray ignores him, keeps walking to the Humvee and slumps himself in the driver seat.
He takes out his dog tag and removes the ring from the chain. He puts it in his ring finger. It's slightly loose, thanks to one-meal-a-day diet plan. He cries harder.
He feels Brad is coming before he can see him. The Giant Viking is not as stealthy as he thinks he is. Or maybe it's because Ray's sense was heightened since Bastogne.
"Leave me the fuck alone, Brad."
"Do you have something to say to your dearest pal Brad-Brad?"
Ray cannot help not to snorts "Fuck, Brad! That's so fucking wrong in so many levels."
Brad shrugs "At least you talk."
Who would have guessed? Maybe the Iceman does have a heart.
Ray sniffs and wipes his face "I need my time alone, Brad. Three weeks trapped in a Humvee like a fucking dysfunctional family with you guys does this kind of thing. And I need to…sufficiently securing my masculinity after…after that episode with Rudy."
Brad looks at him incredulously "What the fuck? Securing your masculinity? Episode? Who the fuck are you and what have you done with my inbred, goat-fucker, scrotum-faced, bucktoothed RTO?"
When Ray keeps silent, Brad says a little bit softer "Look…Ray…You really have to unfuck yourself. Because I need my RTO back."
Ray takes a deep breath. Disguise your nervous breakdown in a series of jokes, Ray. The usuals. "You know, Brad…you will make any English major co-ed orgasm with your choice of word when insulting people." Shit! That was super lame.
"Ray..." Ooo...that frosty tone again.
Ray exhales "Okay…" He squares his shoulder and musters his courage "Okay…You got me at 'I need my RTO back'. But you would never believe me."
"Try me…and really? You have to quote Jerry Maguire?"
Ray sighs and takes that leap of faith. He's done this with George, Frank and Bill. He just hopes that he will get the same acceptance from Brad.
"That…was…un-fucking-believable."
Ray is not surprised. Apparently, people in the past are more trusting, less cynical and not much using logic. George, Frank and Bill trust him instantly. But Brad is the epitome of modern people. Skeptical…logical…cynical. Iceman indeed.
"Then how the fuck I found this ring in my dog tag? You know me since Afghanistan and you never saw this ring until today."
"That's…I don't know."
"And would I fucking lie to you about this?"
After a while, Brad finally says "You might be a messed-up, sister-fucking, Whiskey-Tango miscreant who allegedly inhale too much NASCAR exhaust fumes when you're a kid, but…no…I don't think your inbred brain cells are sophisticated enough to fabricate that kind of shit with so much detail. So it must be the truth."
Leave it to Brad to show that he does believe by insulting people.
"Besides…you have this nightmare last night."
"What?!"
"You're trashing and mentioned names in your sleep. Names that's not in our company…that now I know, they're from Easy."
"Shit…who else heard me?"
"Just me. Trombley and Walt were in their racks. Reporter was talking with Poke…So what do you want to do now?"
"Find Easy, as soon as I'm on libo...or…what's left of them. And…I've decided I won't reenlist."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Damn sure, Brad! I had enough of buy-one-get-one war experience. I have full stock of fucking nightmare for a lifetime." Ray puts his face on his hands.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw faces. Muck's, Penkala's, Hoobler's. And then dead replacement babies, Bill's and Toye's mangled legs, George's helpless face, Buck's empty stares and even Frank's wounded ass.
"That bad huh?"
"Yes, Brad. That bad. To see half of your company shredded in front of you…And then the civilian…That was…" Ray cannot finish his sentence.
"I know, Ray… A pilot doesn't go down and look at the civilians his bombs have hit. Artillerymen don't see the effects of what they do. But us…the guys on the ground do. We have to bring this home with us and live with it, although it will kill us inside."
"Then how the hell you still want to join the Corps?"
"It's my life, Ray. I was born for this. I can't see my life outside the Corps."
"Dress blues with a sword thorough and thorough, don't you?"
Brad smiles "Ooo-fucking-rah…"
Ray sighs and puts his head on the steering wheel.
"You know…nightmares are early sign of PTSD, Ray. Casey Kasem is a certified combat stress instructor. You want to talk to him?"
"Are you shitting me, dude? I'd rather talk to Trombley and risked on having additional psychological trauma than playing shrink with Griego!"
Brad grins and taps Ray's shoulder "Ray, when you're right, you're right."
They sit in silence for a while before Brad says "I'll go with you."
"What?" Ray cannot believe what he just heard.
"I'll go with you. You'll need someone to babysit you during your road trip finding Easy. Put you on a leash so you're not embarrassing the human species. Maybe I can meet this Winters guy and see for myself the said angel-saint-ninja hybrid. It'll be good for my warrior spirit. Or we can meet this Luz, Perconte and Guar…what's his name again?"
"Guarnere…or Gonorrhea…But…" Ray fights the sudden constrict in his throat "I don't know they're still alive or not." He blinks and his vision blurred. Shit…not again. This time travel bullshit makes him grow pussy.
"Ray…It's gonna be okay. I've got your six."
"Thanks, homes." And after a while "You know…you may be a shitty friend, Bradley. But you're MY BEST shitty friend."
"Don't start that homoerotic bullshit with me, Ray." Brad warns.
"Solid copy, Sarge."
Ray is true to his words. As soon as he got access to internet, he abused Brad's laptop to find out about Easy. But what he found was make him more depressed; Brad forbid him find out about Easy until they back to Camp Pendleton or until Ray's on libo. Ray's depression and nightmares start to rub off the rest of Bravo. They're used to loud-mouthed, no-filter-between-brain-and-mouth Ray Person. A quiet and withdrawn Ray Person was alarming, apparently.
The most devastating news was when Ray found out that George was passed away in 1998 in a work accident. Easy's beloved clown died while working on a large industrial dryer, when it slipped off its supports and fell on George. Ray doesn't have opportunity to properly say good-bye to him. George was the most sincere, kind and caring human being Ray ever knows. A behind-the-scenes man. George did things solely because they were the right things to do, and when he did someone a favor, he expected nothing in return. The Joly Old Saint Luz has gone. Their last conversation was a premonition, apparently.
Ray's only consolation was that Frank and Bill are still alive. His first phone calls with them, after Ray arrived in Pendleton, were…emotional, so to speak. Their voices were definitely aging, but the fire is still in their voice. Ray has to keep the conversation short because he didn't want to get caught weeping in the phone booth like a pussy. He quickly wrote down their address and promise to visit them as soon as he's on libo, but not before an obligatory visit to his family.
And Ray feels guilty. He supposed to be happy meet his family again. His mom was crying when she picked him up in the airport. Ray hugs her but still not feeling 'home' yet. He stays quiet during the drive home. His mom feels his mood apparently. But she doesn't say anything.
When they finally arrived at his mom's house, her mom asks "Joshua, I've made you favorite. You want to eat it now? You looked so skinny, honey."
There was a time when he feels at home when his mom called him Joshua. But not this time. He still feels…adrift.
"Thanks, Mom. 'm fine. But…can we… talk for a minute?"
"Sure, honey."
"Can you tell me about Gramp? I mean…about his war years."
His mom doesn't answer immediately. She stands up, enters her room and came out with a wooden box. She gives the box to Ray. It is about the size of a shoe box and has an engraving of a screaming eagle on the top of it. 101st Airborne Division insignia.
"Your Gramp gave it to me before he died. He said to give it to you, if you ask about his war years. And asks me to give you time to…to collect yourself." His mom is crying again.
Ray feels like a jerk "Mom…I'm so sorry…but… I have to do something. I have to make this trip. For my sake and for Gramp's."
"Do what you have to do, Joshua. I don't know your reason, but I know you'll do the right thing. You've change so much. You've carry so much weight. I can see that. If this trip can give you some peace, then do it."
Ray blinks back his tears and hugs his mom as tight as he can. Try to express his gratitude and relieve through it. And then he excuses himself to his room, to open his Gramp's box.
The first thing he see when he opens the box is a black and white picture of Easy Company, taken outside their barrack in Aldbourne. Ray remembers this picture. It was taken after their first disastrous field exercise. The one that Sobel got tricked by George and Frank. It's a picture of the original Toccoa men before they spend their life in various shitholes in Europe. Before D-Day, before replacement babies, before Bastogne. Before they changed into zombies.
And underneath the picture, is his Gramp's diary. His heart beats faster when he opens it and finds his own writings. He reads his first entry in Aldbourne to his latest entry before they attack Foy. There's a gap in the date after that and the next entry is his Gramp's writing.
March 28, 1945
Mourmelon, France
Dear Josh,
I'd like to call you Joshie, but George warns me that you would not like it. *Ray cannot stop his smile when he read this. George kept his promise. Stick to his Gramp along the way*
Finally I can write to you. When I woke up in the hospital in Liege, Belgium - I've been unconscious for three days, apparently - I have bits of memory about you. It's like flashes of dreams or de ja vu. A nurse gave me this diary with George's letter on it. He explained everything in the letter. He assumed that you will back to your time after you – or we? I must agree with you. This is confusing – got hit. And our Portuguese friend was right. Thank you, Josh, for being so thoughtful. Your writings helped me a lot in filling the gaps.
George visited me before he and Easy was moved again to Haguenau. Not long after that, I was moved to hospital in Mourmelon. Easy finally returned to Mourmelon on the end of February. I don't remember exactly when, because I'm still in rehabilitation, but George said that it was 10 weeks since Easy leaving Mourmelon for Bastogne.
George and Frank – that midget went AWOL, as can be expected – always with me during my rehabilitation as much as they can. They told me about your...shenanigans. You three were fucking crazy! A little bit jealous because I'm not fully the part of it.
It might be crazy to feel like this for an unborn grandson, but I'm extremely proud of you, Josh. From what I've heard, you have proofed yourself worthy as a leader, a soldier and most importantly, as a friend. You are a hero.
Well…I don't know what else to write to my grandson when I myself still a 24 years old. I'm not even got a girlfriend, for Christ's sake. So…that's that. I'll see you again in…30 years or so. Hope we will have a good time.
Your Gramp (Damn! I feel old already),
Ray A. Person – the original
And Ray finds himself crying again.
"Stop fidgeting, you buck-toothed simpleton! I've told you not to drink that third Red Bull. We're about to meet a bunch of old man, not going for an ambush."
"How dare you call them 'old man', Bradley! They're war heroes. In a fucking-A-legit kind of war, mind you. Not some fucked up invasion like us."
"Yeah…yeah…I've read the book, Person. So what the fuck are you waiting for? Get out of this fucking car and meet them!"
Ray still not moving from the driver seat. He's been knocking his knees for the last five minutes. They are in the parking lot while Ray mustering his courage to meet Frank, Bill and Babe inside the Diner, here in South Philadelphia.
Frank insisted to meet them in South Philly, since he also wants to visit his grandson there. Ray originally wants to visit him in Joliet, Illinois (since the said midget is already 86 years old, for fuck's sake) but Frank said "I still can beat you running up and down Currahee, asshole. You say one more thing about my age, and I will hit you with my cane. Yes…I have a perfectly good stainless steel cane. And don't call me midget!"
Bill and Babe, still joined in the hips apparently, gave Ray the address of their meeting points, a Diner with a 1940's vibe. A perfect place for world war veterans like them.
Brad finally got fed up with Ray's chicken shit, so he manhandled Ray and drags him to the Diner.
Once he opens the door, he hears shouts.
"Yowwwwwsa!" that's Bill.
"Yoooooooo!" echoes Babe.
Frank grins his pearly white teeth. That vigorous tooth-brushing during the war pays him greatly.
And Bill stands up and rushes to him, a tornado in crutches, and gives him a crushing hug. Babe and Frank follow suit.
"Jesus, Ray! You look exactly like your Gramp. I finally believe you, Bill." Babe says
"Took you almost 60 years to believe me, you asshole."
"Holy shit, Ray! It's like I just met you in Bastogne."
Bill and Babe groaned. Bill hit Frank's shin with his crutch. Babe punch Frank's shoulder. Frank cringes. Old habits die hard.
"Thanks for mentionin' that hell on earth, midget." Bill says and shakes his head.
Ray laughs. He missed these guys so much and they don't change a bit after 60 years. Brad's jaw falls comically watching the exchange.
"Guys, meet Sergeant Brad Colbert. He's Recon Marine too. Nick name Iceman. He is my former team leader. Brad, these are my Easy friends, Bill, Babe and Frank."
Brad shakes their hands and muttering "Pleased to meet you, Sir."
"Pah. Call us with our name. We're not in military anymore. Let's have a seat, will ya. I'm sure Frank's neck will hurt talkin' with your giant friend, Ray."
They all laughing, except Frank that grumbles, and then sit on a booth. The waiter brings them a pot of coffee.
"So…you guys just got home from Iraq?" Babe asks.
"Yeah…just arrived last month."
"I can't believe when you called me, Ray. I thought my mind is fucking up, playing tricks on me." Frank says.
"Situation normal then." Bill cuts in.
Brad snorts on his coffee. Ha! The Iceman loses his coolness.
"So how's Iraq?" Bill asks before Frank can start to rant.
"Yeah well…the grunts get fucked up by the officer. The usual."
"Except Fick." Brad cuts in.
"Yeah…I know, Brad…you had a man-crush to our beloved Lieutenant Nathaniel Fick. Oh don't give me that look, you Hebrew motherfucker! I'm not fucking scared. You're not the boss of me anymore. So where were we? Oh right…Iraq…Our enemies were wearing pajamas. And then a lot of civilians got killed. So in conclusion, we liberated and fucked up the country in the same time. We don't even sure there are WMD in Iraq. At least when we're in Europe, I know what I was fighting for. But still…I have to see my men killed in front of me. Ergo, since I experienced this buy-one-get-one war experience bullshit, my collection of nightmares can make Stephen King pees in his pants. So…yeah…I'm kinda fucked up."
After a while, Bill says "Ray… We're soldiers. We follow orders. Back in the Europe, you were a great Sergeant, Ray. Do you think Foley can be a good Lieutenant if you're not his Platoon Sergeant? Do you think Lipton and George alone can keep Easy's morale high in Bastogne? Do you think the replacements can have a better team leader than you? And I'm sure Brad here also thinks that you're a good Marine. Right, Brad?"
"Although I still can't believe that this sorry excuse of human being can say a word with more than two syllables, let alone to become a Platoon Sergeant, I have to admit Ray is the best damn RTO in the business. As long as you can housetrained him and keep him away from your uglier daughters and your smaller livestock." Brad answers deadpanned. The Aryan bastard.
Their laugh makes the other diners look at them.
"See that, Ray? Friendship. That's all you need in this messed up world, along with booze and skirt, of course. You got Easy. You got your Marine friends. You're an asshole, alright, but never a fucked up. End of story. Now you pay for this coffee and come to my house. Missus Guarnere is preparing dinner and all of you…have to stay at my house. No argue! Well, except Babe. He got his own house and his own missus to be feared."
Ray, Brad and Frank spend three days in The Guarnere's house. Three days of talking and drinking beer until late and Frannie, Bill's wife, has to drag her husband to sleep.
When they leave South Philly for Hershey, Pennsylvania, to visit Major Winters, it was Brad's turn to become nervous. Apparently, his reading about the Major and Ray's and Bill's story about Winters has made Brad some kind of fangirl-ing about the esteemed Major.
'Colbert comma Brad: The Fangirl-ing Behaviors' are as follows:
- Stuttered and flushed when meet the Major,
- Asked for autographs on his copy of Ambrose's Band of Brothers book, and
- Asked Ray to take a picture of him and Winters.
It was funny as hell! But Brad threatened that he will kill Ray in 24 different ways if Ray told this to the other Recon Marine. So Ray kept his mouth shut.
To Brad's huge disappointment, they can't stay long in Hershey because they have to continue their trip to visit George's grave in Rhode Island. So after a couple hours of transferring warrior sprit between the Retired Major and the Viking Sergeant, Ray and Brad are back in their car.
The sun is almost set when they finally arrived at the Rhode Island Veteran Cemetery in Exeter. It's not difficult to find George's gravestone, even though his gravestone is very simple compare to the other. It lays flat on the ground with simple engraving.
George Luz
PFC US Army
World War II
Jun 17 1921 - Oct 15 1998
Purple Heart
Ray can't say a word because his throat feels heavy.
Brad says "This man is a quintessential war hero. And his grave only mentions one medal? But I thought Bill said that he was buried with all of his medals on his chest…that his family had no prior knowledge about them."
Ray nods "Those are Easy men for you. When you call them heroes, their first answer will be 'The guys that never came home are the heroes'. "
Brad sighs "And our retarded officers in Iraq got medals hard-on by calling in danger-close fire mission."
Brad then continues "I think you're somewhat lucky, Ray. You got the best of both worlds. You found brotherhood, both in Easy and Bravo."
Ray sigh "I guess I do."
Brad taps his shoulder "I'll be waiting in the car. You take your time." And then he walks back to their car.
Ray crouched and touch George's gravestone.
He mutters "It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life...Good-bye, buddy. I'll see you on the other side."
Ray turns around and walks to the car. He assured everything will be alright.
-Fin-
A/N: Finally finished the story. Thank you so much for War sage, Wild Mustang of Freedom, Gabwr, Lexa14, Sweer Sorrow 93 and JacqieOH for following this and gave your review. I really appreciate it. ^_^