[RV] Maine's Dream 1977

Ep. 6 | Last Resort

Amidst the war, under his nose,
Napoleon searches for tugged boats.
Union Jacks flutt, the British rose,
Smuggled goods, the Russians chose.

- British goods smuggling, Napoleonic War.

13th January, 1977 (1639 CC)
14:12
Augusta, Maine, United States

"The diplomatic route hit a dead end, folks. We're talking serious business now. The word on the street is that the U.S. Navy should sail on over to Parpaldia and set things straight. We need a real gunboat diplomacy situation here, like what we did in the Chinese Open Door Policy in 1899. Forget the controversial chatter, the number one goal is keeping the American economy on the up and healed. If we keep waiting, our chances of a quick recovery go down the drain. It's time to cut the talk and take decisive action."

"Like... folks! The Extraterritorial Laws, that's colonial. Who would ever accept that?"

---

His mundane day was interrupted by a persistent visitor knocking on his front door, it's been quite a time as the knocks were nonstop. Causing him to lose interest in his current television show which is broadcasting a debate regarding the Parpaldian question. Politics and Bad news that had been springing up reflected the current state of America.

"I'm coming!" Helmson yelled as he rose off from the sofa seat, the middle-aged man in vertical-stripes panel cardigan shirt greets his neared guests. Meanwhile, in the background, the TV is humming a soft ambiance.

"Your package, sir." Sweet and Polite words uttered from his lips when they revealed of themselves. Both of them are wearing a steady and neet normal civilian attire of the mid-60s. Handing over a plain brown A4 envelope devoid of any address, giving it an air of foreboding.

"You looked no mailman..." Helmson responded in skepticism, reluctant to answer their offer. Nevertheless, he unfolds it immediately out of curiosity, aligning with their anticipation.

---

(This is...)

CONFIDENTIAL—marked big red letters at its header.

Catching the sight of an arrow crest that belonged to the Special Activity Division slipping up from the sheet in his hand, he reacted dully as if he had transformed completely into another person. Helmson's atmosphere and facial expression suddenly shifted completely aloof with an ever-changing attitude.

"Captain Helmson, A Company, former SOG?[1]" Their question arises as a true confirmation, it was an unexpected reminder of his past to be heard nowadays.

"Buddy, you're gonna just stand by the door?"

"Make sure to check the date, Cap'n" they prompted before departed. Helmson can say nothing but only watch silently as their plain back of chilly shirts fades away into their black vehicle parked by the pavement.

Clutching the paper, his hand trembles. His cheeks surge into a wry smile. The life he thought he had left behind, the memories since the deployment are reminiscent. His time as a Green Beret, and then SOG returns. It was a bittersweet experience blend of suffering and deadly thrills, a feeling that made him once alive. His heart is delighted at the notification of his mission. Moreover, his mind is still left back in the Jungle. A facade that was an effort to integrate back into the society came crashing down. The feeling, they are whispering an insistent call and urging for a reassessment. And within him, an unmistakable yearning only rapidly grows.

The remaining of the day was spent with packing up his belongings west. The flight to California is set and the departure is approaching. Helmson gazed back at his house, leaving everything behind. Whether if it was a right decision, the rolling of his car's wheels symbolizes his life gliding away from the civilian toward the heart of darkness which hibernates within the unknown continent of Philades.