Front Lines | Sodapop Curtis

06

September 18, 1970

   I flinched awake the next morning to the dreaded reveille, announcing the beginning of our day at 4:00 a.m. sharp.

   I sat up quick, groggy and cold, looking around for the single file line that I'd imagined was supposed to be marchin' outta the barracks.

   But what came as a shock to me, was that I had been one of the only ones who'd appeared to hear it. The majority of the other guys in the barracks around me were dead asleep.

   "Steve." I whispered, getting up to see if he was still asleep. "Steve, you up, buddy?"

   "Mmmph." He grumbled, turning over. "Soda, it's four in the morning..."

   "Yeah, they just sounded that h--"

   I was interrupted by the barrack doors swingin' wide to reveal a burly drill sergeant smacking the lid of a metal trash can against the body of the can.

   I watched as all of the recruits jumped up from their mattresses, some even falling out of the top bunks they were so startled.

   I heard Steve swear above me, sitting up quick and throwing the blankets off angrily.

   "Three minutes to poop, shave, and shower, you pansies!" He yelled. "I better see all of your puny buttholes on the line by 4:10, or you'll be running 6 miles before breakfast!"

   I decided I would use nicer language in this writin', since there was some real colorful cursing happenin' as the sergeant walked the barracks.

   "Glad ya slept in your uniform?" The boy beside me laughed, tightening his belt around his waist.

   "Couldn't be more glad." I answered. "Thanks."

   "What's your name, private?" He asked.

   "Sodapop Curtis." I said, looking around at the boys scrambling to the bathrooms and buttoning up their uniforms. "You?"

   "Nice to meet ya, Curtis." He held out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Jonathan Hugo."

   I shook it. "Where you from?"

   "Kansas City." He answered, sitting down on the edge of his bed and lacing up his boots. "And you?"

   Watching him lace up his boots, I realized I hadn't yet, so I snatched the bright beige boots from underneath my bed frame and quickly pulled them on.

   "Tulsa." I said. "Long way from home."

   "You're a long way?" He laughed. "We're almost a half a day's drive."

   "Five minutes 'til formation!" I heard a boy yell.

   "Better start makin' our way out." Jonathan began. "Would rather not run six miles. I like to eat breakfast."

   I nodded. "You sure know what you're doing."

   "Not hard to follow directions." He laughed. "But yeah, my father was in the army for fourteen years. I've got sort of a clue as to how this all goes down..." he paused. "But then again, my dad wasn't a draftee."

   I followed Jonathan out, losing track of Steve along the way. There was just so many guys packed in those barracks, and Steve didn't make it much of a point to stay together, so I just let it go.

   When we got outside, it was warm and humid. The air felt like I was breathing in mud.

   There was already a few of the hardcore guys out on the green in a perfect line, and a handful of other officers awaiting our arrival.