Unspoken Abandonment (18 page)

It did
n
o
t take long before I fell into a routine. My days became a blur of going to
physical therapy
and lacing combat boots. Kevin and I started to become very good friends, and we always found ways to make life seem more enjoyable. Although we ate breakfast and lunch on base, we vowed to leave every night for dinner
,
and a local restaurant became our haven. We would spend hours there some nights,
doing
anything to avoid going back to the barrack.

One night at the restaurant, we had two girls sitting next to our table. Kevin struggled to make eye contact with them, but they were not playing along. He eventually conceded to the fact they were
just
n
o
t interested. After the girls finished their meal
s
and left the restaurant, our waitress came over to us.

“Hey guys.
You know t
hose two gir
ls that were just sitting there?
Well,
the one in the white tank top really thought you were cute,” she said
while
pointing to Kevin. “She’s single and wanted me to give you her number.”

The waitress jotted the number on a pad, tore the piece of paper out
,
and passed the note to Kevin. “Call her, she’s a great girl” the waitress said. The note simply read, “Samantha” with a phone number.

“Score!” Kevin said excitedly. “That’s how it’s done, my man.”

I said, “What!?! You didn’t
even
do
anything
.”

“Yeah, well who got the number?”

I told Kevin, “You got lucky!”

Kevin called Samantha, who invited him to go out that night. Kevin
asked me
, “Bryan, you want to go out with us?”

I told him that I did
n
o
t think it was a good idea to bring me on his first date.
I said,
“Just use my car if you want.”

Kevin explained, “No it’s not that. She said she’s going with some friends, and I really don’t want to go by myself. Just play wingman for me. Besides, it will get us out of
there
for a while.”

And at that, I was convinced. Later in the evening
,
we met Samantha at a local bar in a town not far from base. Samantha was with two girlfriends, and they seemed like a fun group to hang around with. As the evening went on, the bar filled
,
and Kevin and I could
not
help but notice
something unusual.

“Man this place is a sausage fest,” Kevin pointed out.

“I know! It’s all dudes. I’ll be
back;
I’m going to go get a drink,
”
I said.

I
approached
the bar to order a beer
,
and I was told by the bartender that the bar did
n
o
t serve beer. The bartender handed me a drink menu which listed drinks such as “The Dirty Sailor,” “The Salty Rim,” and “A Slippery Long One.” As I looked around the room, I saw four guys dancing in the corner with their shirts off.

“Dude, this is a gay bar” I told Kevin

“I know man, but please don’t leave. I honestly think I have a chance with this girl!”

“You owe me
big!”
I told Kevin.

By one o’clock in the morning, the true awkwardness of the situation had set in. The bar was jam packed with guy
s.
At
th
at
point
,
Kevin and I were
practically
the only two with our shirts still on
, and
I had to deal with the onslaught of guy after guy trying to be the one who picked up the straight guy. I wanted to leave so bad, but I knew I couldn
’
t.

Kevin had been having more and more issues with one of his legs, and I think it was obvious to both of us that he stood a substantial chance of losing it. Kevin always kept a great attitude
,
and
he always seemed happy
,
almost
to the point where I wondered how he did it. How can you remain that upbeat with the constant thought of losing your leg hanging over you? I knew that
my night may have been very awkward
,
but
Kevin was having fun. He was with a girl who did
n
o
t even seem to notice that he was hurt, and I was sure that he was completely forgetting about every
thing,
even if
it was only
for a little while.

I believe Kevin really tried his best that night, but I hope his ability to fly a helicopter is much better than his dating skill. I do
n
o
t think his date was nearly as entertained with Kevin
as I was
,
after Kevin’s sixth drink
caused him to start spitting wh
ile
he w
as
talk
ing
to people
.
The night
eventually
ended, and Kevin never did get the almighty
second date
.

I
would
like to say that I started to get used to life in the barracks by this point, but I hadn’t. My life was basically a mixture of bullshit from Woolard at my job in supply during the day and from First Sergeant Redding whenever he had the chance.

One night a small group of us were sitting in front of the barracks after dinner. It was that moment where day is turning into night, and the sky has a very eerie glow. It was the middle of June
,
and the weather was just perfect. Four or five of us sitting on lawn chairs
,
in front of barrack 374
,
became a usual sight after dinner.

Redding drove by in his car, and upon seeing us
, he
made a u-turn and pulled alongside the
grass
next to
where we were sitting.

“And just what is going on here?” he asked in his usual condescending voice.

“Just minding our business, First Sergeant.” One of the guys responded.

Redding exited his car and stormed towards us.  He exploded in a fit of anger, “I know you weren’t referring that to me. I KNOW you weren’t suggesting I mind my business. Because I have news for all of you
;
YOU ARE MY BUSINESS!”

Redding started to go
off
on one of his usual rants when Kevin stood up and said, “And on that, I’m going to bed.”

Kevin started walking towards the door to go inside, but he was quickly cut off by Redding.  Redding asked, “And just where do you think you’re
going?
”

Kevin said, “I’m tired, my legs hurt, and I want to go to bed. Now if you don’t mind…”

There was Redding,
all alone and
standing u
p to
a guy with two broken legs.
We all knew Kevin was
n
o
t alone; he had
a small group
of angry men
behind him
, all
of which
were getting
very
close to their breaking point. Not one of us said a word, but we were all
thinking the exact same thing,
“J
ust give us a reason. Please, give us
just one
reason.
”

Redding stared at the group of us for a moment,
and then
he
reluctantly stepped aside. He may have been an asshole, but I do
n
o
t think he was an idiot. As Kevin walked inside
,
Redding glared at the rest of us and said, “If we were back in the zone, I would crush all of you.”

Redding always used references to being back in combat. He would talk about his
brief
time in Iraq and
prior
missions in Afghanistan, and this always confused us. We
a
re all brothers
together;
we fought the same war for the same
reason
s.
That being the case,
w
hy
would someone
act like this
?
Why would you treat one of your brothers like this?

The following morning, Kevin and I w
ent
to
breakfast in the cafeteria
,
and
we were
talking a
bout the previous night’s incident
involving
First Sergeant Redding
. It was actually less talking and more pissed-off venting.

“Redding is bullshit. There has to be someone we can go to about
this,” I said.

Kevin,
in his usual calm tone,
said, “There isn’t, man. This isn’t forever, and we just have to deal with it. I
t i
s what it is, man.”

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you talking about First Sergeant Redding from Company A?” asked a man sitting at the table next to us.

This guy was very unassuming looking,
and I would
almost
describe him as
kind of nerdy
, for lack of a better term
. He had thick curly hair and a pair of glasses that were too large for his face.
With this stranger b
eing dressed in civilian clothes, we had n
o idea who we may be talking to
. W
e
both
paused without
offering a reply
.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.” He slid over to our table and continued, “I’m Bernie, Bernie Sanders.”

Kevin and I shook hands with Bernie, and it seemed as though neither of us were quite sure what to say
next
. I asked, “Are you friends with the First Sergeant?”

Bernie laughed and said, “No, not quite. I heard you mention something about the First Sergeant telling you he was in combat. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir. First Sergeant references his time in combat to us
sometimes, but
it’s
u
sually
when he’s pissed off about something,” I said.

“That’s funny, because First Sergeant Redding has never been in combat,” Bernie stated.

“Excuse me?” Kevin asked.

“Maybe I should introduce myself a little better. I’m Major Bernie Sanders. I am in charge
in
the 118
th
Medical
Battalion
, which includes Company A. So no, I’m not First Sergeant Redding’s friend; I’m his boss.”

Major Sanders then proceeded to explain that First Sergeant Redding was a member of an Army Reserve unit which was activated for combat duty in Iraq. When Redding’s unit was preparing to deploy, he was deemed unfit for combat duty. Redding’s unit continued on to Iraq, and
Redding was assigned to a State
side position at Fort Drum. First Sergeant Redding’s first assignment was cut short because of his
“
distinct inability to work
well
with others,
”
and he was ultimately assigned to Company A.

“So Redding was never in Iraq or Afghanistan?” I asked, almost not believing what I was hearing.

“Not a day, son,” replied Major Sanders. “In fact, he has never even served
on
active duty. Prior to his assignments here at Fort Drum, he has never served any active duty time at all.”

I looked at my watch and explained to Major Sanders that Kevin and I were going to be late for our jobs. Major Sanders said, “You two aren’t going anywhere. I want to hear everything that’s going on over there.”

Kevin and I spent the better part of the next hour just talking with Major Sanders. We did
n
o
t need to fight or argue,
and
he just listened. Major Sanders only shook his head and occasionally said, “Unbelievable.” He listened as we both explained our backgrounds and what brought each of us to Fort Drum.

“Ok, as of immediately there are some changes for you two. Number one, you do not report to First Sergeant Redding any longer; you report directly to me. Second, as you’re now reporting to me I’m going to have you reassigned to also work for me. I could use a couple of good guys in my office to help me out. And third, I can’t have my two best
men
living in squalor. I’ll see about getting you new barracks, ASAP.”