01 February 1989 – Fort Bragg, North Carolina

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Jeff commented while Ken packed the last of his things.

“You knew one of us would eventually leave, either when we got promoted or PCS’ed.”

“I know, but I’m not sure I want to see who I’m gonna get for a roommate after lucking out for the last year and a half.”

“Aw, aren’t you sweet?” Jeff threw a pair of Ken’s socks at him. “Watch it, buster! That could be construed as striking an NCO!”

“Yes, Corporal! Sorry, Corporal! Won’t happen again, Corporal!”

“You wanna meet Corporal Punishment?”

Jeff’s fears were well-founded. A private straight from training named Campbell was his new roommate. Campbell failed the ‘Jaeckel Test’ as it had become known in the company; he joined right in on the mock taunting of Jeff. Campbell tried to continue that taunting when he entered Room 317 fifteen minutes later.

“Shut the hell up, Sandwich!” Jeff said, cutting him off.

“It’s ‘Campbell.’”

“Not anymore! Congratulations, you’ve already earned a nickname! ‘Sandwich,’ as in, ‘You’re as fucked up as a soup sandwich!’ You haven’t even been here five minutes, and you’re trying to tell me what’s what? Take a long walk off the top of the rappel tower. Unpack your shit, and don’t say another word to me tonight.”

Jeff then did something he hadn’t needed to do since reporting to Bragg – he locked up his stuff so his roommate couldn’t get to it.

The following morning Campbell tried to act all high-speed at PT formation. Halfway through the five-mile run, Campbell complained of cramps.

“Probably menstrual,” Jeff muttered to Oscar Infante’s amusement. “I’ve nicknamed him ‘Sandwich’ already, Oscar. Spread that around.”

Oscar’s slick, gigolo ways were gone, thanks to the 504th’s near-combat deployment to Honduras the year before. He’d become a soldier you could count on. He’d become one of the strongest members of 1st Platoon.

“I’m guessing like ‘soup sandwich?’”

“You’re right on the money, Oscar.”

“What’s he been here? Not even twenty-four hours?” Oscar asked.

“Nope, not even.”

“I hope we run all morning, then. And you know how I hate running.”

A week later, as Jeff tried to complete an assignment for school, Campbell turned his boom box on. The volume was set to eleven. Jeff could hear Campbell’s music over his own, and Jeff wore headphones. Jeff ripped the power cord for Campbell’s radio out of the outlet.

“Hey!”

“You want to listen to your music that loud? Put on headphones or take it outside! I was wearing headphones, and I couldn’t hear my music. You’re going to be bunking in with someone else until you hit sergeant if you live that long. You’d better learn the concept of common courtesy!”

“You’re not in charge of me!”

“I’m gonna be in charge of throwing your radio down the stairs with you right behind it in about two seconds!”

Campbell sulked in his desk chair for the next few hours playing his music through headphones. Jeff could still hear the music since it was so loud. If the kid wanted to destroy his hearing, Jeff wasn’t going to stop him. Jeff put his stuff away and cleaned up in the latrine before bed. In true Infantry fashion, Jeff ignored the world around him as he went to sleep five minutes later.

“Sir, Private Knox reports!”

Jeff stood in front of his company commander’s desk during the last week of February. He rarely found himself in this office, and he did his level best to keep it that way. Seeing the rest of his company chain of command in the office did little to calm his nerves. At least there were no MPs around.

“At ease, Knox,” offered CPT Matthews. CPT Matthews was his new CO. He took command at the beginning of the year. “How are things going in your fireteam?”

“Overall, I’d say they’re going well, Sir. The guys are young, but they seem to be picking up the stuff we’re throwing at them quickly.”

“Even Campbell?”

“He’s more ... challenging ... Sir, but he’ll come around.”

CPT Matthews stole a glance at SSG Tyler. “These might help him come around quicker.”

The captain flipped him something. Jeff saw that whatever it was came from AAFES, the Army & Air Force Exchange Service. They were subdued corporal rank pins for his BDUs.

“Sir?”

“Congratulations, Corporal.”

“Thank you, Sir. Do I have to leave the company now, Sir?”

“Not unless you want to.”

“No, Sir! I’m Alpha all the way!”

“I didn’t think so. No, we’re stretched thin as it is. You’ll be staying with us. We thought we could hold off until Support Cycle came back around, but we need you in place before Mission Cycle starts in two weeks. We’ll get you to PLDC as soon as we’re back on Support.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“You’ve earned it, Corporal. You will have to move out of your barracks and over to the battalion NCO barracks, however. As a junior NCO, you’ll bunk in with another corporal.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’ve got a small detail assembled to help you out.” CPT Matthews stood and extended his hand. “Congratulations again.”

“Thank you, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I don’t expect that you will. Dismissed, Corporal Knox.”

Ken Takahashi rose to answer the knock on his door. Jeff stood in the hallway, holding a box. There was a duffle bag slung over his shoulder as well. Three other soldiers carrying boxes also stood in the hall.

“Hey, Jeff. What are you doing here?” Ken asked his former roommate.

“Moving in.”

“What?”

“I just got promoted. Can I come in?”

Ken stepped aside, bewildered. “They assigned you to this room?”

“You’re a master of the obvious there, fella,” Jeff joked to his best friend. “A mind like a steel trap!”

“This is cool! Third Squad’s gonna be the class of the company with us running the fire teams!”

“You know it. Uh, Ken, you wanna clear your shit off my bunk?”

Two days later, the company conducted MOUT training – Military Operations in Urban Terrain. This is mil-speak for house-to-house fighting. MOUT is high-stress as it combines close combat with threats coming from all angles. Everyone has to be on the top of their game and supporting the team.

And then there was Campbell.

Jeff’s fire team stood in loose formation after their turn in the ‘shoot house.’ The company wore MILES gear, the military’s version of laser tag, which allowed realistic training. The gear required the use of real weapons modified to fire blanks. Jeff reviewed how to clear a room with one of his new privates, Williams. Campbell discussed something else with his battle buddy. He also waved his rifle around in an unsafe manner. Carelessness with a weapon, even if unloaded, was not to be tolerated.

“Stand by, Williams.” Jeff started towards Campbell to correct his malfunction, but fate intervened.

Oscar Infante crossed behind Campbell. He was right behind Campbell when the misfit drew his rifle back over his shoulder. Oscar turned when Jeff shouted at Campbell. The combination of Campbell’s action and Oscar turning his head caused the rifle’s stock to pass under his chin and strike the passing specialist in the Adam’s Apple. Jeff heard a wet, sickening ‘crunch’ upon impact. Oscar’s eyes widened. He tried to take a startled breath but found he couldn’t. His hands shot to his neck, and he started to crumple.

“MEDIC!” Jeff yelled while darting towards Oscar. Heads snapped around at the call. Others saw Jeff moving toward a falling soldier and began to head that way. Jeff caught Oscar while his friend fell like a tree.

A striped abrasion marred Oscar’s neck, and Jeff saw blood in his mouth. Jeff lowered his buddy to the ground. He unbuttoned Oscar’s BDU shirt and unbuckled his web belt. With an injury to the man’s neck, Jeff didn’t want to move him any more than that.

“What do you have, Corporal?” asked the assigned medic as the man knelt on the other side of Oscar.

“A strike to the Adam’s Apple from an M-16. The striations are from the butt plate. I heard a crunch when it hit. Didn’t want to move him much till you got here.”

“Crushed larynx,” the medic mumbled. “Nixon! Ambulance UP!” he barked before turning back to Jeff. “Can your guys give me a hand?” he asked Jeff.

“Williams! Sledz!” Jeff called, looking around. The two privates he called were already right behind him. “What do you need us to do, Doc?”

“Get his helmet and LBE off, carefully.”

Jeff and the two privates bent to the task. He registered the sound of someone tearing Campbell a new one but didn’t spare the time to look up. They worked the LBE and MILES harness off without touching Oscar’s neck. Jeff saw Doc swab his friend’s neck with something below the injured area. It was a yellowish-brown liquid with an antiseptic smell. Jeff also saw a flash of steel.

“Hold him still. There’s gonna be some blood.”

Jeff looked Oscar in the eye. “Look at me, Oscar. Look at me! This isn’t gonna be fun, but you can handle this! This will hurt less than your landing at Palmeroa last year. You bit it hard, buddy! I swear I don’t think I’ve seen anyone screw up a PLF like that since Jump School!” The pain was visible in his friend’s eyes when Doc made his cut.

“You can do this, Oscar. This ain’t nothin’! You’re Airborne! Suck it up and drive on!” Jeff heard others retch at what Doc was doing, but he didn’t move.

There was a gasping rush of air when Doc cut through Oscar’s neck and into his windpipe. Doc swabbed away the blood and placed a breathing tube into the incision. He packed more clean gauze around the tube.

The ambulance pulled up. The second medic grabbed a pole stretcher while Doc secured the tube in Oscar’s neck. Williams and Sledz looked green, but they hadn’t moved. The platoon helped load their fellow soldier into the back of the ambulance. The siren wailed while it drove away and towards the base hospital.

Jeff tore his eyes away from the ambulance and scowled at Campbell. Campbell had three sergeants screaming at him already. Jeff watched while the sergeants made him start doing push-ups; Campbell would be pushing for days. The sergeants continued to harangue him, and the added voice of a corporal wasn’t going to matter much. Jeff turned his attention to more urgent matters.

“Williams, where did our weapons go?”

Williams indicated a spot behind Jeff. Someone had stacked the rifles in a teepee-like arrangement as if they were on display. A private from Ken’s fire team stood watch over them.

“Good work, Knox,” 1SG Haversmith said as he walked over to Jeff.

Jeff shook his head. “I should have stopped this before it happened, First Sergeant.”

“How?” the First Sergeant asked. “I saw you about to correct Sandwich as soon as he started messing around with his rifle. Yes, I know his nickname and why he has it. It fits from what I hear. Tell me how you could have prevented this.”

“It doesn’t matter, Top. I’m his fire team leader, the first NCO in his chain of command. It’s my responsibility.”

“Jeff,” David Haversmith said, placing his hand on Jeff’s shoulder, “you may have heard this one already, but ‘you can’t cure stupid.’ I know you’ve been trying to correct Sandwich’s attitude since the day he arrived here. There are some people you just can’t help. Yes, as a leader, you’re responsible for the things your subordinates do or fail to do, but this one is on him, not you. You’ve had two days as an NCO, but Williams and Sledz have been benefiting from your leadership since they’ve been here. Take a breath.”

“Yes, First Sergeant.”

“So what did he get?” Ken asked the next day.

“The captain wants to drop him out of a C-130 without a parachute, but he’s going to let JAG handle it. From what I hear, JAG will charge him with assault and battery with a dangerous weapon as a result of culpable negligence. We’ll see what he winds up getting.”

“What’s the maximum penalty for that?”

“Dishonorable discharge, forfeiture of all pay and allowances, and confinement for three years.”

“Not enough,” Ken spat. “He’s ended Oscar’s career and could have ended his life.”

“No argument there, but that’s all the Punitive Articles allow. No stretch in Leavenworth will be any fun for him. Is it true they’re bringing in two new sergeants as fire team leaders?”

“That’s what I’m hearing. The company was supposedly working on that before Sandwich’s ‘incident.’ We’ll keep our stripes. They’re still gonna send us to the Primary Leadership Development Course the next time we’re on Support, too.”

Jeff nodded and wondered how Oscar was doing.

Oscar Infante stared at the ceiling in his hospital room at Fort Bragg’s Womack Army Medical Center. It was a different room than the one he’d been in this morning, but the ceiling was the same. He almost wished he was still unconscious. There was nothing to do but stare at the ceiling, or watch soap operas. He’d prefer to run all day than do either of those.

A knock sounded on his door. The rigid collar on his neck prevented him from turning his head. Rolling to one side, he saw Jeff Knox standing in the doorway. Oscar waved him into the room.

“Hey, Oscar. Glad to see you awake.” Oscar smiled at him and pointed to a chair. “Thanks.”

Oscar picked up his pencil and pad of paper. That was his only form of communication with his voice box crushed.

“I know it’s a dumb question, but how are you doing?”

“Neck hurts,” Oscar wrote. “Surgery when swelling goes down.”

“Are they going to be able to fix your throat?”

“So they say. So much for the singing voice.”

“Your singing voice was fine, Oscar. It was fine when you were in the shower, that is. Maybe we can find a Port-O-Potty you can carry around with you?” Oscar started to laugh, but there was no sound.

“No laughing. Hurts.”

“Sorry.”

“Campbell? Nobody’s told me yet. You’re the first one by.”

“You were in the ICU until today. The rest of the guys will be by soon enough. Sandwich is in the stockade now, but they’re convening a general court and will send him to Leavenworth, hopefully. He’ll receive a dishonorable discharge, forfeit all pay and allowances, and receive three years’ confinement if convicted. None of us think it’s enough, Oscar.”

Oscar shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re wrong, Oscar. It does matter. You’re someone we counted on in First Platoon! You were probably next on the list for a lateral promotion to corporal! With you, we were a lock for the best platoon in the brigade! It matters because you’re one of us, a Devil in Baggy Pants and a First Battalion Red Devil to boot! No matter what happens next, Oscar, no one can take that from you. Don’t forget that!”

Oscar just put his head back, staring at the far wall. Jeff wasn’t sure how much of his little speech got through to his friend. A soft knock at the door made Jeff turn. A pretty brunette stood just inside the room.

“Hi, I’m Jenna Farrier. I’m here for Specialist Infante’s physical therapy session?”

“Hi, Jenna. I’m Jeff, one of the guys from Oscar’s platoon.” Jeff turned back to Oscar while he rose. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Oscar, and I’ll let the guys know you can have visitors now.” Jeff glanced at Jenna. “You should at least comb your hair before your date comes over, bud,” Jeff said in a stage whisper. “I’ll give you a few dating tips when I come back.”

Jenna giggled when Oscar gave him the finger.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend, Jenna. He’s a bit shy and isn’t real comfortable around girls.” Jeff ducked when Oscar threw a box of tissues at him. “Time to go!”

A week later, Ken and Jeff stood in the company offices meeting two new additions to the squad. Sergeant Tyler handled the introductions.

“Sergeant Frank Breckenridge, Sergeant Cory Song, these two men are Corporals Ken Takahashi and Jeff Knox. They’ve been acting as the fire team leaders for Third Squad. You won’t find a better pair of soldiers in the company. I’ve relied on them since the last two team leaders left.” The four NCOs shook hands.

“Speaking for myself, I know I’ll be counting on you guys while I settle in here,” SGT Breckenridge said. SGT Song nodded in agreement. “Which one of you is acting as Alpha Team leader?” Ken raised his hand. “How are we looking?”

“We’re doing okay, Sergeant. We just lost a team member two weeks ago, a specialist, to a training accident. We’re handling it right now. We need a replacement for that soldier, and we’ll be back up to strength.”

SGT Song looked at Jeff. “Same here, Sergeant. Our training loss was the careless soldier who caused the accident. He’s still in the stockade, but that’s only until he’s court-martialed. We also need another warm body and to get that body trained up.”

“Both are in the works, and both should report in before we hit Training Cycle next week,” noted SSG Tyler. They nodded.

Jeff and Ken entered the battalion NCO barracks lobby after the meeting. They nodded to the CQ, CPL Emilio Vasquez from Charlie Company, while headed for the stairs.

“Hey, guys! Hold up!” Vasquez called as he put down the phone. “Your First Sergeant’s gonna be here in a few minutes with some guests. He told me to have you guys stand by.”

“Standing by to stand by, Corporal!” Jeff joked from the position of parade rest.

Vasquez looked pained. “I don’t know how you put up with him, Ken.”

“It’s all I can do not to smother him with my pillow some nights, mano.”

Jeff shook his head at the two comedians as 1SG Haversmith pulled the door open and held it for someone.

“Kara?” he gasped as a sandy-headed blonde in a MassArt t-shirt appeared. She skipped over to her brother and hugged him.

“Holy shit...” he heard someone whisper.

Jeff looked behind Kara to see Allison and Heather standing in the lobby with 1SG Haversmith.

“Move it, sister,” Heather muttered as she nudged Kara out of the way to give Jeff her hug.

“You’re taking too long,” Allison said, tapping her foot.

Ken and Emilio’s jaws hit the floor as they watched the scene. Heather stepped aside, and Allison pressed herself to him. There was a roaring in his ears while she kissed him deeply.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Jeff replied, his smile a mile wide. “This is a terrific surprise, but what are you ladies doing in Fayetteville?”

“Allison and I have been talking about heading to Myrtle Beach for Spring Break since the snow started to fly in earnest after New Year’s,” Kara informed him. “We started to talk to Heather about the idea, and she brought up the idea of stopping here on our way down.”

“I’m so glad you did. We need to get you three off-post before you cause a riot, though! You all get better looking every time I see you!” Allison kissed him again at the compliment. “You guys have met the First Sergeant, but let me introduce you to two guys I share the cell block with. The sorry-looking individual behind the desk is Emilio Vasquez, and the sorrier-looking individual next to me is Ken Takahashi, my roommate. Emilio, Ken, these gorgeous specimens of femininity are my younger sister, Kara Knox, and my good friends Allison Newbury and Heather Donnelly.”

Ken found his voice. “Why don’t you have any pictures that do these ladies justice? Are you trying to keep them all to yourself, you greedy son of a bitch?” Emilio was still staring.

“What can I say, Takahashi-san? I’m blessed.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Reich and Captain Matthews have also blessed you both with the day off, Corporal,” Dave Haversmith told him. “You and Ken go get changed into civvies while I keep these lovely ladies company.”

“Yes, First Sergeant!” he and Ken replied.

“Disappear. You two are giving me a headache.”

“Dude, your photos of them don’t even come close!” Ken remarked as they hustled up the stairs to get changed.

“It’s good to be the king.”

“Yeah, no more comments about you being the piss boy...”

The five young people made their way off-base. They drove to a local amusement complex, where they spent hours playing mini-golf, riding go-karts, and being treated to a hitting exhibition by Jeff. Their sides all hurt from their laughter. Jeff treated the group to dinner at a local barbecue restaurant.

“Who else am I gonna spend my money on?” Jeff asked when Kara complained he was hemorrhaging money that day. “Ken will tell you that neither of us comes off-base all too often. We’re both working on our degrees and, now that we’re NCOs, we’re even busier. Plus, you ladies will spend enough in Myrtle Beach.”

“I meant to ask, Jeff, but did you get promoted?” Allison asked, taking a sip of her iced tea.

Jeff nodded while he chewed his food. “At the end of February,” he confirmed. “Ken was promoted at the beginning of the month and was still without a roommate, so we’re roommates again in our current barracks.”

“Do Mom and Dad know?” asked Kara.

“I haven’t mentioned it yet, so I doubt it. I’m waiting for my file’s picture to be updated, and I’ll send a copy home.”

“Why not mention it?”

“I dunno,” Jeff shrugged. “I guess in my mind nothing has changed. I’m still roommates with Ken, still at Bragg, still with the same unit. Other than the stripes...?”

“Don’t let Mr. Modest over here fool you, Kara,” added Ken. “He’s helped the new kids in the squad get up to speed and helped keep our platoon running smoothly when we lost a man in training.” The women looked at Jeff sharply. “An injury, not a death,” Ken clarified. “It could have been a death if Jeff hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did.”

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Jeff muttered.

“Sure, and Colonel Reich pinning that ARCOM on you in front of the battalion was an exaggeration.”

Ken related the incident to the women, glossing over the bloodiness of the emergency field tracheotomy. Kara looked even prouder of her big brother.

They drove to the women’s hotel after dinner. Ken and Jeff stayed until they needed to head back for lights-out.

“Thanks for coming down, Heather. It’s been great seeing you again.”

“I can see why you like Ken. He’s a good guy.” She gave him a tight hug. “You take care of yourself. Call me soon.”

Kara hugged him next, telling him she’d call when they returned to Boston and reminding him to call their parents. Allison’s hug got his motor running again. The roaring returned with her kiss. Jeff was sure it was just the blood in his ears. Part of him thought it might also be the roaring of a crowd. He was reluctant to let her go.

“You be careful,” he whispered.

“You jump out of airplanes – voluntarily, I might add – and you’re telling me to be careful?” She kissed him again. It was a soft, lingering kiss that used to be a prelude to more. “I love you, too, remember? Whoever Fate has waiting for you is gonna be pissed if you get yourself hurt. I’ll talk to you soon.”

They finished their goodbyes, and the paratroopers returned to Jeff’s truck.

“You have to be the luckiest son of a bitch in the world, Jeff,” Ken said while they drove up the All-American Expressway towards the base.

“That I am, Ken. That I am.”

Jeff, Ken, and other NCOs from the battalion watched the evening news in the first-floor lounge of their barracks at the end of May. The lead story was about the presidential elections in the nation of Panama. The opposition candidate won the election, but the dictator, Noriega, declared the election invalid. A mob beat the presumed winner bloody the next day; that the man wasn’t killed outright surprised Jeff. Noriega claimed that the United States was the root cause of election irregularities and refused to step aside.

“I hear they’re starting to reinforce the Canal Zone garrison,” commented SGT Tyler Jefferson of Bravo Company.

“Man, all that humidity would play hell with my hair,” someone else muttered.

None of the soldiers in the room went more than two weeks without a haircut. None of their hair was longer than a quarter of an inch. A single bottle of shampoo would last a year in the barracks if shared.

Ken and Jeff shared a look. They’d tell their fire teams to start checking their equipment tomorrow.

Jeff glanced around the barracks room one more time to make sure everything looked presentable. Ken would arrive with his parents and sister at any moment. He was going on ten days’ leave to North Carolina with his family. Ken’s younger sister had asked to visit her brother for her high school graduation present.

Jeff heard the call of, “Female on the floor!” and rose to his feet.

“Clear!” he called back.

The barracks was almost empty since it was already the weekend. Most everyone who was going to leave for the weekend took off after the close of business on Friday. Jeff saw Ken step into view, and gesture someone inside. A small, distinguished-looking man stepped inside the room – Ken’s father. Jeff bowed and addressed Mr. Takahashi in Japanese.

“Konnichiwa, Takahashi-sama. I am Ken’s roommate and student, Jeffrey Knox.”

“Konnichiwa, Knox-san,” replied Ken’s father, Hiro. He bowed back. “May I introduce the rest of my family?” Ken’s father turned to the two women accompanying him who stepped through the door. “My wife, Mayumi, and our daughter, Keiko.” Jeff bowed to both women. They bowed back.

Jeff’s gaze locked with Keiko’s when they straightened up. Nothing else existed as Jeff fell into her deep, brown eyes. Someone’s gaze had never captured him like this, and no one had ever stared at him so intently. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Unseen by either of them was the look Mr. Takahashi gave his wife. Nor did they see the follow-up look he gave Ken. Ken gave his father a nod.

“I’m very sorry, Takahashi-sama. Did you ask me something?”

“Yes, are you ready to go?”

“‘Go,’ Sir?”

“Yes. To lunch with us.”

“My apologies, Sir. I did not realize you had extended the invitation to me. I can be ready in five minutes.”

Jeff began to pull clothes out of his bureau. He nodded to a still-staring Keiko before he darted to the latrine to change. Jeff lied to Mr. Takahashi. He was ready in four minutes.

“Ready, Sir.”

“Let us go, then.”

Jeff led the way to the parking lot. Every time he glanced back to check the Takahashis were behind him, he found Keiko staring at him. The intensity of her gaze surprised him. He was in for another surprise.

“Father, may I ride with Knox-san?” Keiko asked. Her voice did things to him he hadn’t experienced before. Mr. Takahashi shared another look with Ken. Ken gave his father another nod.

“Yes, Keiko.”

“Jeff, we’re headed to the steakhouse on Bragg Boulevard, down by 401,” Ken said.

Jeff nodded. “This way, Miss Takahashi.”

Jeff escorted her to his truck. He rolled down the driver’s window to let the built-up heat out before starting the truck. He cranked the air conditioning before leading Keiko to the other side, holding the door open for her.

“Thank you, Jeffrey,” she said as she stepped into the cab.

That voice!

He fought not to stare at her legs while she sat. Closing her door, he raced around to get in the driver’s seat. He buckled up and pulled behind the Takahashi’s rental. Keiko was staring at him again. She rolled up her window when the air conditioner began to win its battle against the North Carolina summer. Jeff did the same. She spoke again once they were on the All-American Expressway heading south.

“Do I make you uncomfortable, Jeffrey?”

“In many ways, yes, Miss Takahashi.” There was no sense in prevaricating to this woman. She’d know he was lying in a heartbeat. “Your voice does things to me I won’t mention to your brother. Your eyes ... I’m lost when I look at you, Miss Takahashi.”

“Keiko,” she said. “Call me Keiko, please. I do not wish to be ‘Miss Takahashi’ to you. You are not lost, Jeffrey. Your heart has found something. It has found something it has been looking for. I believe mine has as well.”

“What? We’ve known each other for less than thirty minutes, Keiko! You just graduated high school. You’re about to start college in the fall. Do you want to tie yourself to someone who lives three thousand miles from Spokane?”

“The heart wants what it wants, Jeffrey. Do you not feel the connection? I do. Also, I will be less than three hundred miles from here in the fall. I will attend the University of Virginia in Charlottesville.”

“UVA? Ken didn’t tell me that.”

If he thought her voice threw him for a loop, her touch almost stopped his heart! It was electric. She’d placed her hand on his arm.

“I will study English, both composition and literature. My goal is to teach at the high school level. UVA has a combined BA/MT program.”

“Bachelor of Arts, Masters in ... Teaching?”

“Yes, exactly. It is a five-year program. I will graduate in 1994 with both degrees.”

They finished the drive in silence. Dinner passed without any surprises. Mr. and Mrs. Takahashi asked Jeff many questions during the meal; he knew they were interrogating him, though subtly. Their daughter had expressed interest in a virtual stranger, so it was not unexpected.

After the meal, the group drove to the Takahashi’s hotel, with Keiko again riding with Jeff. They sat in the family’s suite and continued their discussion. Jeff realized after an hour they’d spoken Japanese exclusively all day. It was effortless. Keiko favored him with many small smiles while they sat with her family. Jeff said his goodbyes to Ken and his parents at 2000. Keiko asked if she could accompany Jeff to the lobby. Her father gave another nod.

“I’m sure Ken has told you, but we leave for Wilmington in the morning,” she told him as they rode the elevator to the lobby. “I will see you when we drop Ken off at your barracks. I will call you during the week.” She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips to his.

Pauline’s first kiss his sophomore year in high school shocked him. Allison was good at making the world disappear when she kissed him. Keiko’s kiss had him on fire. Whatever connection he felt during the day, whatever her touches had done to him already, paled in comparison to her kiss. He couldn’t form a coherent thought. Before this moment, he would have said he could die a happy man if such-and-such occurred. Now he would never say that again because his death would make Keiko unhappy, and he’d never do that to her.

“Good night, Jeffrey,” she whispered. He floated out of the elevator, his eyes locked with Keiko’s while the doors closed.

As he made his way back to his truck, he wondered how the train named Keiko Takahashi had flattened him.

Jeff slogged through the next week and a half. He didn’t remember much of it. He barely got any schoolwork done, and he found himself staring at his desk half the time. Finally, Ken’s leave ran out. Ken called when they left the beach, telling Jeff that they’d be back at the barracks in two and a half hours.

Those were the longest one hundred fifty minutes of Jeff’s life. He took a leisurely shower to pass some of the time. That only ate up fifteen minutes. Listening to music helped a little, but only a little. The gods took pity on him, and the time passed. From his window, he could see the Takahashis walking to the barracks. Jeff flew down the stairs.

Keiko smiled when she saw Jeff waiting for them, for her, in the lobby. She walked over and wrapped him in a hug.

“Do you feel it now, Jeffrey?” she whispered in Japanese. He nodded to her. “It is not yet our time. You have your time in the Army still, and I have my time at college.”

“What do we do?” he whispered back.

“Live, Jeffrey. We live. An old saying tells us: ‘If you can’t be with the girl you love, love the girl you’re near.’ Do not deny yourself love when it presents itself to you. Our time is coming. We both still have experiences coming to us separately before we share ours.” She kissed him in full view of her parents and Ken.

Jeff said goodbye to her and the elder Takahashis. He then watched while his future walked away. Jeff wasn’t sure how long he stood there before Ken nudged him. He made his way up the stairs with his roommate. Jeff sat on his bunk, not saying a word, while Ken put his things away. Ken sat on his bunk and looked Jeff in the eye.

“She’s in your head.”

“Ken, I don’t know what hit me. Your sister is unlike any of the women in my life. And she’s all of them at the same time. You’ve met Allison and Heather; you know the kind of women I’ve been lucky enough to meet. Keiko ... What she does to me...”

Jeff didn’t know how to explain what he felt.

Ken nodded. “Jeff, you need to remember one thing no matter what happens between now and whenever you’re supposed to be together.”

“What’s that?”

“She will be hard-pressed to find a better person than you, my friend.”

The group watching the evening news in the lounge had grown. Almost the entire battalion’s NCO corps began watching once the media called President Bush a ‘wimp’ months ago. Now, ten days before Christmas, they watched the same media report a Marine officer gunned down by the Panamanian Defense Forces in Panama City.

“Well, fellas, there’s our Warning Order,” came the comment.

“Sure as hell.”

Someone started softly calling a favorite running cadence. Gone was the usual bravado of the song, smothered by the cold realization that the division’s future was being written while they watched.

“C-130 rollin’ down the strip...”

Unlike a regular cadence call, no one answered the original speaker. There was too much truth in the follow-up line.

“Airborne daddy gonna take a little trip...”