The four Soldiers sat around an olive drab painted footlocker playing cards. Actually, the group was comprised of three Soldiers and one Marine, all wearing desert camouflage uniforms, their blouses removed exposing brown t-shirts, not because they were hot, rather it was just more comfortable to have them off.
“Let’s go for six Top,” the Marine Captain said to his partner.
“Six it is then Sir,” First Sergeant McNeely agreed. Julian McNeely was from Newark, New Jersey and had served in this man’s army for just over 17 years. He took a lot of shit for his first name while coming up through the ranks, especially while at basic training, but only his brother got away with ribbing him about it in recent years.
Julian McNeely’s partner in this game of spades was Captain Mike Williams from Sarasota, Florida. Private First Class Williams attended the United States Marine Corps Officer Candidate School at Quantico, Virginia and graduated as Second Lieutenant Williams on September 9, 2001. He enjoyed playing cards with Top McNeely and the men, it kept his mind off of missing his wife and daughter.
Sergeant Booker B. Washington grew up in Montgomery, Alabama before enlisting in the Army the day after he graduated from Robert E. Lee High School in May of 2002, where his picture still hangs as the All-American quarterback who took the Generals to the state championship two years in a row. Booker B. Washington turned down several scholarship offers from colleges and universities like Notre Dame, Syracuse, Clemson, and the most tempting, the University of Alabama’s Crimson Tide. In his 18 year old heart, young Booker knew he was to be a Soldier first, before anything else.
“I can go three myself sergeant,” Private First Class Brian Velleux of Newport, Maine told his partner, Sergeant Washington.
“OK, we’ll go five and set them ‘V’,” the sergeant said confidently.
Brian Velleux disappointed his parents by joining the Army a little over a year ago. He was supposed to play professional hockey and make a ton of money and buy his parents a house in Florida and have fake teeth and bad knees and a BMW. He never really liked playing hockey; the early morning practices, the long ass drives to play 90-minutes of “chase the puck,” and the never living up to his father’s expectations on the ice. Brian Velleux loved being a Soldier had aspirations to one day be a noncommissioned officer like Sergeant Washington.
“Damn.” Captain Williams said, throwing his cards down onto the makeshift table after being set by the younger team. His partner grinned slightly, knowing the young officer had bid bigger than he had in his hand.
“We ought to start making our way to the station,” the first sergeant announced looking at his watch.
Captain Williams reflexively asked, “We got someone coming in Top?”
“Yeah, we got another Soldier comin’ home,” McNeely answered as he placed the deck of cards dead center of the footlocker and put on his blouse.
“Let’s go greet him ‘V’,” Sergeant Washington announced standing up, likewise putting on his blouse.
As the train pulled into the station, Corporal Carmen Sanchez marveled at the number of people awaiting their arrival, waving banners and holding signs all welcoming them. When she stepped off the train, Corporal Sanchez was greeted by Captain Williams and First Sergeant McNeely first, with a firm handshake and a pat on the back.
“Welcome home Sanchez,” McNeely said with all sincerity as he gripped her hand with his right, his left hand on her shoulder, and his eyes looking into her soul.
Carmen Sanchez joined the Army three years ago to the day in El Paso, Texas though she was originally from Honduras. Her parents immigrated to America when she was 13 years old, determined to give their daughter a future filled with freedom, liberty, and opportunities.
The melodic sounds of a band playing patriotic music caught her ear as she passed by countless numbers of people welcoming and thanking her, when Corporal Sanchez realized that she was the only Soldier on the train. Though there were other civilians disembarking, the “welcoming party” was solely for her. Tears welled in her dark brown eyes.
The original group of four received Corporal Sanchez as if they had known her forever. The card games continued, rotating Carmen into the mix while the “odd man” out took care of keeping score and maintaining refreshments. She quickly noticed that it didn’t seem to matter who partnered with Captain Williams, his team never won a game.
On her third day at home, Devlin Thomas, a tall blonde haired reporter in his mid to late twenties from New York, New York, who had taken the train with Corporal Sanchez, stopped by to see her.
“Hey Devlin,” Carmen Sanchez said looking up from her cards held in a fan with her left hand in front of her.
“Hi Carmen, how are you managing?” the reporter somberly asked.
“Fabulously! And you?” she responded slapping down the Queen of Spades, trumping that hand.
Devlin Thomas, junior reporter for the New York Times, just kind of shrugged in response, staring off into the distance, longing to be someplace else.
“Would you like a soft drink or some bottled water sir?” Private First Class Velleux asked, interrupting Mr. Thomas’ trance.
“Ah, no thank you,” Thomas answered. “Where are you from Private Velleux?” he asked the young Soldier.
“I’m from Maine sir,” replied Brian Velleux.
Devlin Thomas then slipped into his reporter persona asking harder hitting questions of the young private, “Why are you here? Is it worth it? Aren’t you angry?” Private First Class Velleux refused to answer.
A little later, Sergeant Washington was the “odd man” out and found himself talking with Devlin Thomas who took a bit of a different approach.
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