Zuhause

When I ran up that run way with my pack on my back jarrin' all over the place I couldn't fathom that something like this could happen. I thought we would arrive safely to Hurtgen Forest without any dang complications what-so-ever! How could I be this naïve? I have been in the U.S army for six years! SIX YEARS! I should anticipated that this could happen! Instead I merely jumped on that dang aeroplane without a care in the world, wonderin' when will I ever get outta this hell that is Europe.

My last assignment had been in Paris; we had finally liberated and gotten those monsters outta France, pushin' 'em back into Germany. I had gotten my orders to go to Hurtgen Forest about a week ago... or was it two? I was to report to a transport vessel at 0600 sharp; the vessel I was assigned to was a Douglas C-54A Skymaster. It could carry 86 men and with a width of 117.49 feet, length of 93.83 feet, and a towerin' height of 27.49 feet. When I stepped inside I sat my pack down and took a seat on the hard rock seat inside this hunk of metal. A familiar face come into view. A chiseled, handsome man that could make all the rich dames swoon back in ol' New York City, topped with a combination of cool blue-gray eyes and pristine groomed, short blonde hair.

"Well, well freakin' Lieutenant James Radley. Watch ya doin' showin' your ugly face around here?" I stood back up laughin' and walked on over to the guy.

"Ha! You wish Larson! You know you ought to be careful, I'm piloting this plane so be vigilant of what you say otherwise I'm a throw you out mid-flight." He jests as he captures my hand in a firm grip. I was about to retort on that last comment but this scrawny kid bumped into me.

"Hey! Watch where ya goin' ya bumblin' idiot!" I snapped at the poor kid. I didn't get a real good look at him until after I'd yelled at him. Kid was edgy, looked like he was only fourteen years old and was shakin' like a dog in the pound or somethin'. "S-sorry sir, it won't happen again," he stutters. His spruce-bark eyes wouldn't look at me and his head was tilted down, and I could see his dirty blonde hair on the crown of his head. Although, to be honest the kid's not that tall, probably 5' 4" at most.

"Hey," I call a little more softly, "kid, look at me." It took him 'bout a minute or two but he finally looked up. "What's ya name, kid?" His eyes shift nervously from me to just about every part of the hull until he softly stutters, "Private Matthew Jones, sir." I nodded. I walked up to him and clapped him in the back and I stook out my hand, "Sergeant Andrew Larson." Jones hesitantly took my hand and softly shook it. I turned back to Radley and sighed defeatedly.

"You've gone soft on me Larson," Radley gives me that obnoxious, cheeky, smile that makes me want to punch his teeth out. "Shut up!" I snapped back, "Look at the kid! The guy looks young enough to be my kid brother! He ain't gonna last long in a gun fight against the Nazis!" Radley looks at Jones solemnly and nods with his stupid head. He looked down at his watch and announced, "Time to get going, Larson."

"Alright, just don't crash this plane otherwise I'm a have your stupid head ya pistol!" I exclaimed as Radley gave a good hearty laugh. We parted ways; Radley in the cock pit and me to my cheesy seat next to Jones. Radley and the co-pilot started up the engine and the propellers and starts racin' down the run way. I looked at Jones, poor kid was grippin' the edge of his seat 'til his knuckles turned white. Once we were steadily flyin' in the sky Jones relaxed a little but was still edgy.

"Hey kid," I called out to him. Jones looks at me with those big, jittery brown eyes. He seemed to recognize me so I continued, "ya know kid, ya gotta relax. I know you're nervous maybe about half the soldiers in this hunk of metal is, but ya can't be so edgy otherwise ya won't last long and ya will get injured or killed, ya understand?" He stared at me with those huge innocent eyes and rapidly nodded his head.