Pages Between Us

Mail Call

James

The dog tags on my neck jangled against each other as planes flew over head into the base for training. I served in the air force as a pilot for four years before joining the marine corps. Still I ended up back here helping train rookies and working on my chopper that went with my boy's and I to and from hell flying us into a hot LZ and flying us out. It didn't matter how many hours I spent flying a chopper or plane, the drum of the blades slicing through the air sent adrenaline through my body providing me with an overwhelming sense of pride paired with adrenaline.

"James Moore" John Gorgan one of my marines calls out tossing a letter into my lap. "Got a letter" he says and I catch it in my hands looking over the envelope that had the return address of my late sisters home but was void of a name. I wondered if my letter had been returned to me but I knew it'd have a big red stamp on it.

I tossed Billy my lighter for his cigarette and I stood up and walked towards the bunking room. It was void of men during this time of day. I used my knife to slice open the top of the letter and pulled the contents of paper from inside. Unfolding the paper I read the words laid out by the new tenant of my late sister home, Cher. at first I felt vulnerable just like she said I would, but then I felt a great wave of gratitude in her response. Not only did her words inspire me but just knowing even for a moment however brief, someone out there thought of me was a comforting and hopeful feeling.

At first I wasn't going to respond. It was the kind of letter that wouldn't offend any involved parties if it went with or without a response. Yet another part of me felt a connection with this stranger miles away that I couldn't ignore. This was an answer to my prayers, or an answer to my letters. I didn't feel alone in the brief moment I read the words that the woman had scrawled onto a piece of paper. I found myself gravitating to the desk where I sat down with a clean sheet of paper and a pencil from Stumpy's drawer that he'd sharpened with the bayonet on his assault rifle and began to write.

March 09,

Apart of me feels strange about the exchange of such vulnerability with a stranger but a stronger part of me feels comfort knowing I'm not alone. I'm glad out of the 7.5 billion people inhabiting this earth you are the one that opened my letter. In your words I felt a gratitude that you had the rare compassion to respond to a man you've never even shook the hand of. My sister would have liked you. Annabelle was my one string tying me to civilization. She always had some quip about the mail man or traffic at the end of her letters reminding me there is a world out there void of the horrors faced in a war. When she passed away that string snapped and receiving your letter gave me a little piece of her back, for that I thank you. In other words it's almost easier knowing a stranger read those words I wrote to Annabelle because I'd sooner shoot myself then have my sisters boyfriend sit in a bar talking about how much more of a man he is than I. On a note I originally debated addressing in fear of invading you too much I want to ask what you are hiding from? Whatever it is or whoever it is I believe you can one day walk down the sidewalk and not fear a demon of your past living in your shadow causing you to look back. My father always said constantly looking over your shoulder is no way to walk forward without the risk of falling,

-James

Sealing the envelope I hesitated on sending it off knowing she could possibly only be in the house temporarily and not even receive the letter in the couple weeks time it could take to arrive. However I took a chance and slipped it into the mail box outside the general office. Walking away from where I left the letter I felt a strange sense that maybe Cher could be a person that relates to my demons in a way that could persuade my mind of the positive light in this dark situation. As I walked I clasped my hand over the three dog tags hanging off the chain around my neck. One was my Captains on the last air force task I went on where he was blown shielding a grenade from killing his men, another was mine, and the third was the tag of my bunk buddy when I first joined on with the marines who died of a heart attack while on leave with his family of all things. Life sure as hell made a game out of death and the dying. A game I feared playing.