Chapter 9
Camp Leatherneck/Bastion
Helmand Province, Afghanistan
July 2013
The wind whipped hot, dry air and sand at Crash’s face. Even in full sunlight, visibility was next to nothing. Crash couldn’t see more than a football field away. Not that there was anything to see. Outside the wire, the camp was surrounded by nothing but desolation. Desert as far as the eye could see.
It was eerie knowing the bad guys were out there somewhere. Watching the troop movements. Waiting for an opportunity. All while behind the Hesco barriers life for the troops went on.
Crash picked his way over the rock-strewn ground. It was hard to walk in combat boots, even harder in rubber shoes when he went to the showers each evening. There was nowhere to escape from the damn rocks. They were everywhere, trucked in because even though they made walking difficult in the dry summer, they were necessary for when the rainy season turned the ground to treacherously slick mud.
The rains wouldn’t hit until spring when he, God willing, would be home. So for now Crash had to deal with the windstorms and the heat and the rocks. It was well over one hundred degrees today, as usual. Even night didn’t bring relief in the summer when the temperature would drop to eighty. That made Crash cross running, even after sunset, off his list of daily PT activities. Yeah, he ran while he was in Djibouti, but he was a few years younger then. Now, he made do with one of the three gyms on base, though only one of those had A/C.
Still, he wouldn’t dare complain. How could he in good conscience not be grateful for the amenities they had here? There were troops who had it way worse. He supposed he could deal with the military’s rocky solution to the rainy season since they also provided steak, ice cream, and occasionally lobster in the chow hall.
Crash passed the coffee place on his way to his quarters from the barbershop. Church service must have just let out. He saw troops walking, bibles in hand, away from the direction of the chapel. His mother would beat his ass if she knew he hadn’t been attending, that after work today he’d chosen to go to the exchange and then get his hair cut.
Working more than twelve hours a day, and then working out at the gym, didn’t leave a lot of time to do things like get to the exchange to buy more deodorant when he ran out. Then again, she’d tell him there was always time for God. Crash could hear her voice in his head as clearly as if she were on the phone line for one of their weekly calls.
Maybe next week he’d make time and try to get to a church service.
The bank of stacked CLUs where his quarters were located came into view. Relief from the heat loomed so close Crash picked up speed to get indoors and into the A/C quicker. He punched the code into the lock and swung the reinforced steel door open. The cool air of the can hit him in the face and he breathed deep for the first time since leaving the barbershop to cross the sweltering camp.
As he closed the door against the heat, Crash saw Zippy was already inside. "Hey. What’s going on?"
Tearing into a cardboard box, Zippy glanced up. "Care package from home."
"Cool." Crash smothered the envy.
It was ridiculous. He wasn’t lacking for anything. Most things he needed he could get at the exchange. If they didn’t sell it on base, he could go online and order from a place that would ship to him here.
His mom asked he if needed anything and Crash always told her no. She was getting up there in years and she was on a fixed income. He couldn’t expect her to haul packages to the post office when he could order whatever he needed on his own. But there was something about getting a little piece of home at mail call that made a guy feel good.
He sat on his rack and glanced over. "What’d you get?"
"All sorts of shit. It’s like Trish bought out the store." Zippy pawed through the sizable box.
Trish. That piqued Crash’s interest in the box further. "Yeah? Anything good?" Christ, that had sounded a little too interested.
Zippy starting unloading the contents onto the desk. "Peanut butter. Crackers. A couple of DVDs. Box of cookies."
"Oh, that’s nice." The cloud of disappointment darkened over Crash.
"Here." Zippy turned and tossed a smaller box toward Crash.
As it came sailing across the room, Crash reached out and caught it between his fingertips. "What’s this?"
"I don’t know. Open it. It’s got your name on it."
His eyes widened when he turned the box in his hands and saw it did indeed have his name written on it in bold black marker. CRASH. Nothing else, but he knew who it had to be from.
"Trish sent me something?"
"I guess so." Zippy didn’t look surprised or suspicious. He was too busy tearing through the rest of the box.
If Zippy wasn’t concerned that Trish was sending Crash things, then Crash figured he needn’t worry. He couldn’t beat down the excitement as he tore the packing tape off and opened the flaps of the cardboard box. He smiled at what he saw on top. A note, in handwriting he didn’t recognize because they’d never written to each other before. Strange that he knew the feel, the taste, the scent of this girl, but had never seen her writing until now.
Crash.
I remembered you said you liked these so I thought I’d send some along. FYI, don’t know how you can eat that stuff!
Trish
He peered into the box and found half a dozen cans of sardines, a box of crackers and a bag of beef jerky. His favorite snacks on earth. They’d talked about food that weekend they were together. He remembered she’d made the funniest face when he mentioned the sardines. He’d teased her because she’d never even tried one, but had already decided she hated them.
His heart clenched as he tried not to make more of it than there was. She’d been sending stuff to her brother. She’d probably just thrown this in as an afterthought.
The falseness of his rationalization echoed through him. Trish had remembered their conversation. She’d taken the time to search out and find exactly the things she knew he liked. This was no afterthought.
"That was real nice of Trish. If you’re on with her later and I’m not here, tell her thanks from me."
Zippy had a habit of logging into Skype while Crash was at the gym. Or sometimes while Crash ate at the chow hall, Zippy would come back to the can for a nap or to call home on the computer. Crash had been in the room only once while Zippy had been online with Trish, but even that brief glimpse of her on the monitor and the sound of her voice had brought back vivid memories of that weekend.
"All right. Will do." Zippy’s flip answer didn’t seem like enough. Besides the fact Crash didn’t trust him to remember.
Crash wanted to thank this amazing woman properly. "You know what, give me her email so I can say thanks myself."
"Okay. Whatever." Zippy shrugged. "Remind me later when I’m online and I’ll shoot you her email address."
"A’ight." Crash blew out a breath. The deception was starting to wear on him.
Otherwise occupied, Zippy didn’t seem suspicious at all. That was good, because as he peeked inside his box again at the odd assortment of things she’d sent him, and then at the note on the mattress next to him, Crash couldn’t help his goofy grin.