Posts from the ‘Fiction’ Category

Feb 6

FUBAR Mountain

by Gretchen Evans

It was mid-March and I remember distinctly the nip in the air that particular spring morning. Snow was still settled on some of the higher peaks but it no longer blanketed them and the valley below. The change in seasons was very much welcomed. It was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, signifying the coming end to our unit’s current deployment to Afghanistan. We were in the home stretch – the last thirty days before unassing the area of operations (AO) and returning to Fort Bragg. I could almost smell the fresh baked apple pie. Read more

Feb 4

The Reunion

by Heather Johnson

Michelle pulled into the vast parking lot and found a space between two oversized pick-up trucks. She could feel a flush creeping up her neck into her face, a glow that too often betrayed her. She hadn’t been to this bar in probably fifteen years and had not liked it even then. Okay, she thought, woman up, let’s go. She pulled a small mirror from her handbag and checked her make-up. Michelle hesitated as she replaced the mirror in the designer bag she had bought with her first bonus. She didn’t want to stroll in with her fancy-schmancy handbag and her expensive boots and have people think she was putting on airs. She laughed. In her Marshalls’ top and outlet jeans no one would think she was lording it over them. She grabbed her hangbag and got out of the car. Read more

Dec 27

Sasebo Silent Night

by Lawrence F. Farrar

It was the afternoon of December 24, 1962 in Sasebo Japan, and Seaman Bradley Haynes was in a thorny mood. With most of their shipmates already on holiday routine, at 1500 Chief Bascom put Haynes and seaman Dirk Chandler to work wire brushing rust off the base of the ship’s crane. It struck Haynes as more like punishment than necessary maintenance. But what really rubbed the young sailor the wrong way was that he would also be pulling security duty that night–for the third time in two weeks. Why him? Not that he had any Christmas Eve plans; but the unfairness of it gnawed at him. Why him? He expected sentry duty that night would be miserable. Dampness hung in the air; the temperature was falling; and a thickening gray sky promised snow.

Nov 12

Caffeine and Chaos: Another Day at Work

by Jonathan Burgess

He wasn’t quite sure if it was the heat or the light from the sun coming through the window that woke him up. Either way, coffee was an immediate necessity. He rolled onto his side and sat up to collect his thoughts, and he considered the most promising course of action that would make coffee – and maybe a little breakfast – least difficult to get. His muscles ached, but he thought of the warmth of the sand outside and managed to stir himself to action. He rose and shuffled through the light and dark striped bedroom to make his way to the bathroom.

Nov 3

Through the Glass

by Christopher Rance

Staring hard into the dark, we moved silently through the thick forest of concrete. Our shadows follow us as they track along the towering blast walls that snake through the city of Dora. There’s eight of us. Myself and my sniper partner Kelly, then six light infantry scouts, each battle-tested over the course of this war; Miller, Glass, Andy, Morales, Curry and Belford. As we fumble around the city in the middle of the night, we make our way to our final destination, a vacant two-story house on the west side of Dora. Our mission is to set up in one of the rooms and find a good vantage point to watch over a multilane highway that cuts through the heart of Baghdad and eliminate any threat that might be stirring about.

Oct 28

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The Great White Hunter

by David P. Ervin

Dense fog blurred the woods and wrapped Grant’s face in cold clamminess. The tree trunks stood out wet and dark against the brown and gray forest. He stopped to listen. There was silence besides the whoosh of the interstate miles away. The sweat under his jacket chilled him. He wiped condensation off his shotgun and continued up the hill.

Oct 15

That Which Eludes

by Christopher Brown

He sat in the boardroom and watched the clock hands slowly tick by. Their moving extremities, distinguishable by sound, overshadowed the humdrum background noise of his boss. The cadence continued in a rhythm that defined his life. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Oct 5

Just the nine of us

by Kevin Neirbo

It had been a long, mild day in our ambush site. We occupied a small circle of dirt, nestled in the reeds along the river. Our five man team passed the time, trying our best at silence, talking in low voices, moving slowly and deliberately. Quietly snacking on trail mix, beef jerky, tuna, and blades of grass, we gazed at the river’s current and listened to the quiet buzz of our radio. The low hum of the static and the occasional exchange between other battalion call signs created a sense of homesickness from our “family” back at the patrol base. At the same time, I welcomed it as it provided a fleeting moment of security. While we might be here alone at the moment, our brothers were not out of touch.

Oct 2

Refuge

by Caroline Keyser

He takes her hand and squeezes it tigher. “It was kinda hard to watch,” he admits. He stares at the ground and pulls his patrol cap down tighter, averting her gaze.

She stands with him for a long minute, holding his hand tightly and staring intently over his shoulder at the cars and Humvees passing behind them, not daring to intrude on his private hell. His uniform conceals his scars, his sunburns, his personal opinions. But it’s not bullet-proof, and his vulnerability has seeped out finally, at a moment when he feels safe. She feels awed that he has chosen her to be the one person to witness this forbidden side of him, to see him at his most fragile. She wants to cry, but knows she can’t – her release would be the breaking point for him, and after all, they’re in public and he’s in uniform.

She wonders briefly what exact image embedded in his mind prompted this. She begins mentally running through the possibilities, scanning memories of news reports and his accounts of his daily work, and quickly stops herself. It does no good to torment herself like this and the answer doesn’t matter anyway. She releases his hand and wraps her arms around his neck, embracing him. He leans his weight on her and she holds him tighter. They’re being conspicuous, and they both know it. At any moment, someone could walk by and see what they’re doing.

Moments before she knows she’ll have to let him go, she places her mouth next to his ear, and whispers, “It’s not real anymore. You left it all over there. It’s not real any more.”

Caroline Keyser is a freelance writer married to an Army officer and Iraq veteran. Her work has appeared in GI Jobs, Costco Connection, and Georgia Magazine.

Sep 29

The Club

by Eddie Jeffrey

A couple of hours before dark the platoon stopped in a spot indistinguishable from any other it had been that day and dug in. They were resupplied by choppers with the usual and necessary: ammunition, grenades, claymore mines, C-rations, sand bags, malaria pills, etc. The choppers brought along some niceties, too: letters from home, cigarettes, soda, beer, and a crate full of ice. After everything calmed down, they took up their positions, cleaned their weapons, washed their balls, aired their feet out, and settled in for another long night.