Unbreakable

Going Home

It was a dulled silver colour. A rectangle with soft corners that would be the only thing left when you died. Suspended from a chain of a hundred links, it displayed the engraved characters: J.Barnes. Most of the people saw the dog tags as a derogatory control of their freedom, and whilst I nodded and accepted it, I was proud of my tag, I'd earned a place to belong, a place where someone would notice if I was missing. I'd never had that before. So whilst it wasn't the family I'd hoped for I'd still managed to be where I wanted. It just so happened that that place was also the middle of World War II. After rigorous training I got a place as a soldier in the army, I wasn't 18 but they seemed pretty desperate and I was only too happy to fight. Steve always told me that I should take more care over whether I lived or died but it didn't seem to matter, I was quite happy to carry on having a life, seeing Steve on the odd weekend and getting attention in the uniform but to die for a world war didn't seem like a bad way to go. It was the last day on patrol before we were dismissed on leave for the next six months. Excitement was heard in every mans voice as they chatted about their wives and children they hadn't seen in months I listened patiently to every mans story but their happiness was becoming a little sickening. Not that I didn't care. Well. Maybe I didn't. But I didn't have an exciting life to go back to, if I hadn't met Steve I would have turned out even worse. I packed my things into the allocated bag, taking care to fold it carefully procrastinating so I didn't have to continue to witness tales of marriage and birth. One of my roommates: Warren came into the bunk to pack up his stuff. I breathed an internal sigh, I was even less inclined than usual to respond to benign, polite conversation.
"Excited Barnes?" He asked jovially. If someone asked me that again I was going to punch them. I ignored him.
"Barnes? Even you must be excited?" There was that word again. He persisted, normally he would have let it go, but today he was so happy he'd clearly forgotten who I was. I stood up my right fist clenched, Warren had no inkling of my change in mood which was about to end badly for him. I stopped, surprised at myself it wasn't like me to get this angry about something so minor. I was sure I'd feel better after I left camp and went back to the apartment. I hoped there was room for me to sleep, I never considered that Steve might have downsized now he was living on his own. I told warren I was 'looking forward to it' and took my bag out to the truck. There were a dozen or so inside already, like a wall of faded green blocks. I hesitated looking around, I wasn't sure when we were leaving. Deciding it was better to wait in the truck I climbed into the back and sat down on the bench, it was dark with the cover over the roll cage but at least no one would see me and ask me if I was 'excited'. I didn't know what was wrong with me, usually I'd be having a drink the other guys swapping weird stories and choosing the next nights dinner for when we got out but recently all I'd been doing was feeling angry all the time. It was not my personality and I was worried that I was changing. I chose to stop worrying about it, after a while a few more soldiers filed into the truck, they pulled the cover off much to my disappointment. The sun hadn't yet dipped beyond the edge of the earth and the light, whilst stunning, was also quite blinding. I don't know how long I sat there, only that when the wheels started moving I felt more uncertain than I was in the camp. If I thought I had changed, in five years, how much had Steve changed?