Notifications IV

Good morning and welcome to Monday Blogs. This month, our theme is military novels. We’re talking about service to our country and the ultimate price some pay today. All of the stories are fictional but in some ways they will seem very real to some readers. As a military veteran married to another veteran, I know the pain and anguish suffered by those left behind. My heart goes out to every family experiencing this pain.
He sat in front of the television, listening to his wife cleaning up the supper dishes. Soon, he’d have to leave for the overnight shift at the carpet mill in Dalton, Georgia. Working the overnight shift was heaven in the summer months. He didn’t have to worry about sweating off ten pounds in the heat.
The news about the war was more of the same. American GIs were being driven back. No offensive went as planned. His worries were more for his daughter, a nurse in one of the medical units. For a second, her sweet face vanished from his mind and the disgusted expression of his son appeared in his mind.
“Don’t you understand, Daddy,” Ian had yelled that hot August night. “It ain’t right we’re being sent over to ‘Nam to die in the rice paddies. This ain’t our war.”
Tossed out of school for fighting not long after his eighteenth birthday, Ian had drifted from one job to another. He was always picking fights, always being sent home and told not to come back. The dark day his draft notice arrived, Jim Ellerby had never had the chance to speak to his son. By the time he rose to prepare for work, Ian had vanished with three of his friends; buddies he’d always gotten in trouble with in school. The note left behind broke Jim’s heart.
I ain’t gonna fight no war over in ‘Nam. I ain’t gonna die for nuthin’. I’ll come back from Canada once the United States gets their mind right and leaves that country to kill itself.
Now, Cherry, their daughter, was over there. Her letters came often, sometimes a single and other times in large bunches. She wrote them every day, just like she promised. Her duty in a MASH unit was arduous but she was happy to be helping the injured GIs.
The sound of a car stopping on the street took his attention.
“Merilee,” he called after peeking through the curtains. “Best come on out. Looks like bad news.”
Let this be about Ian and not Cherry.
Yet, once he had an arm around his wife, Erin, Jim knew. His heart heavy, he opened the door.
“Sir.” An officer stood in front of him; a captain from the dual bars on his shoulders. “Ma’am.” He tipped his hat at Erin. “I’m sorry to disturb you around supper time.”
“Go ahead, Captain,” Jim said. “Supper can wait a few minutes.”
“Sir.” The captain held out a hand that Jim shook. “I’m afraid your daughter, Cheryl, was killed in action.”
“No,” Erin whimpered. “Our girl worked in a MASH unit, not on the front.”
“They were overrun,” the other officer said. “Your daughter—”
The captain elbowed the other man. “Sir, we don’t have all the particulars,” he said to Jim. “If you would contact your local base in about thirty days, they should be able to assist you with any requests.”
Jim nodded. He knew the routine. It was 1965. As a rangy eighteen-year-old, he’d served in Korea and learned fast the families weren’t told much, just that their loved one was gone forever. A soft sob from his wife startled him back to his reality now.
“Thank.” Jim cleared his throat when it tightened. “You.”
He closed the door and held his wife close. Jim decided then and there work would have to do without him for a week or two. His wife needed him.


About K.C. Sprayberry
Living a dream she’s had since she first discovered the magic of books. K.C. Sprayberry traveled the U.S. and Europe before finally settling in the mountains of Northwest Georgia. She’s been married to her soulmate for nearly a quarter of a century and they enjoy spoiling their grandchildren along with many other activities.
A multi-genre author, K.C. Sprayberry is always on the hunt for new stories. Inspiration strikes at the weirdest times and drives her to grab notebook and pen to jot down her ideas. Those close to her swear nothing or no one is safe if she’s smiling gently in a corner and watching those in the same room interact. Her observations have often given her ideas for her next story, set not only in the South but wherever the characters demand they settle.

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