A Soldier's Permission to Die

CHAPTER 3

Chapter 3

The next day, per my shift schedule, I was afforded the usual benefit of sleeping in late; but I rarely slept well at all after a guard duty night. Outside were the sounds of the marching and the drills, and someone occasionally vomiting...a lot. Noises which always seemed to successfully interrupt my rest after the night-watches...yet another reason to severely dislike Stoakly.

I began to feel the late morning heat baking the canvass canopy over my head. The bunkhouse was fast becoming stagnant with overheated air. Gone was the prior night's icy weather; a warm air mass had come up from the south. Today would be hot, I could tell...not as hot as July or August, but hot enough to make drills hell again. A 50 degree heat shift in less than 12 hours. That was Wisconsin weather for ya. They say if you don't like it, just wait a few minutes for it to change.

This would probably the last hot day of the year. Glad I wasn't out there right now.

Outside, the marching and yelling continued. I tried pulling the covers around over my ears and eyes while at the same time leaving a little cubby hole for my mouth to breath. A horsefly buzzed overhead and landed on my chin. I swatted at it half asleep. In two seconds it was back. I repeated the process several times with the same result. God, let my new orders come through soon...If I have to spend any more time here I swear I'll go insane...

About Noon, the full squad came tumbling in through the front door of the bunkhouse, letting in about half a dozen more horseflies with them. Spiderman, lucky idiot that he was, somehow made it through the morning drills successfully despite his recovering condition. How, I will never know.

“Hey Mackey, it's lunch time...time to get up! ” shouted Dutch. Right about then, Spidy ducked his head back out the door and began to dry heave. “Well...lunch for some of us anyway” he said.

Frank walked in from behind him. He was carrying a new vendor box with him, and placed the hard plastic container on the table near the back wall of the bunkhouse, shoving the the old one off the edge and onto the floor below.

“Hey Kellen, toss that shit outside”, said Frank, kicking the old vendor box with his foot.

“Hey...there's still a few packs left in it, why waste it?” Said Kellen.

“Sure, go ahead...if you like salmon.” said Frank. Kellen looked down at the plastic crate and crinkled his nose. He reached down, grabbed the box and tossed it out through the open door. “Hey Spidy, here ya go, Lunch!” He yelled.

“Fuck you Kellen!” echoed Spiderman's voice from somewhere outside, followed by more sounds of puking.

“Alright ladies, what'll it be?” said Frank holding out his hand.

“Hamburger for me” said Jasper, slapping a paychip down into Frank's open palm.

“Me too” said Brandon, tossing a second chip to Frank.

“Make that three” Said Kellen, handing over his paychip.

“How about you Mackey?” yelled Frank over to me. I ignored him and pulled the covers further over my head. Brandon reached down at the foot of my cot and snagged out a paychip from the pocket of my duffel bag, then tossed it to Frank. “Pretty sure I heard him say Salmon.” He said.

“Burger!” I yelled, quickly pulling the coarse blanket off of my head. “And Fuck you Brandon.” I followed with sleepily as I rolled back over into the pillow.

Frank chuckled. “OK let's see, Burger for me too...so that makes...5 burgers and...a taco. Need your chip Dutch.”

“6 burgers you racist fuck” said Dutch, tossing his paychip to Frank.