No title (Part II)

Deep in sleep, he heard the crack and pop of the fireworks, his Dad laughing at the way his young son shied away from the noise and suddenness of the display – especially the M-80’s. Loud and packing a certain amount of concussion, the M-80’s were a favorite on the 4th of July in the neighborhood, and Dad always made sure he had a half dozen or so to shoot off at the family bar-b-que the family had every year after returning from the parade. The parades that as the years wore on became smaller and less ornate – the price for traveling marching bands escalating and silly political correctness ordinances like no sirens from police and fire vehicles causing the parades to have less volume and subsequently less punch than they had when he was younger. But at least they still had the M-80’s, although this time he was confused because there was shouting going on in the background, and all the years Dad had been doing this the only shouting he had ever heard was squealing and joyous laughter. Why was there shouting going on?

The gun battle between his platoon and the band of enemy soldiers had been going on for the better part of 40 seconds before he pulled himself out of his deep, dream-filled sleep, to the screams of his bunker-mate telling him to hand him another bandoleer of ammo, and to “get his ass moving”. Without so much as another thought, his training and discipline kicked into place and he handed his fellow soldier the needed ammo, and took his place upon the top of the sandbags firing towards the sounds of the incoming rounds. Nowhere in his mind was he covering the in’s and out’s of his particular circumstance, he was just reacting and doing. It became eerily quiet on that mountainside, and the young man thought it strange that he could look up and see his friend still firing and yelling, but he couldn’t hear anything. His world was going in slow motion now, and he felt calm and reassured in his surroundings. The fingers on his right hand, holding fast to the side of his neck, were warmed now with the flow of thick hot blood.

He thought about the touchdown run – 70 yards with most of his friends out in front blocking and imploring him to run as fast as he could. He thought about how happy his mom looked on graduation day, he in his purple cap and gown and the crooked tie that he never could get right. He thought about what time it must be back home. His dog ran in front of him, and he leaned down and gave it a big backrub. He saw everyone reacting to the fireworks, and he watched in amazement as his favorite marching band went by silently, the faces in the crowd silently forming oooohs and ahhhhs with their mouths.

The T.V. was on back home at his girlfriends house, and the talking head, hand adorned with a Rolex and a diamond pinky ring, was saying something about how he could no longer find himself supporting the troops. He spoke of how he no longer favored or even liked the idea of having troops, and how he had no problem expressing his opinions publicly...

The girlfriend pulled the covers up, using the remote to turn the T.V. off...

Click.