A Life Less Ordinary

The postcard arrived on a Thursday. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Just another Thursday, like the one before it, and the one before that. An endless chain of dreary days, signifying nothing.

At least that was how Private Felstein thought of it. What more could there be? Here he was, stuck opening the General’s mail, while everyone else was out getting some action.

Never mind the fact that “action” usually meant “death or dismemberment” – where death was preferable.

Never mind the fact that most of the boys out getting action would have killed (or at least maimed) Private Felstein in order to be stuck with his “boring” job, safe in the bunker.

We never know just how good we’ve got it, until we lose it all.

Private Felstein was about to lose everything, though he didn’t know it yet. And this postcard was just the beginning of his troubles.

In bright green lettering, it read:

GREEN MEANS GO.

“What in the blue blazes is that supposed to mean?” he wondered aloud.

On closer inspection, the postcard was addressed to him – not the General.

“But no one knows I’m here,” he whispered.

He flipped the card over. It was a picture of a sandy beach, with two palm trees supporting a hammock. There was even a tropical drink sitting on a table. It was a scene straight out of Private Felstein’s daydreams.

Across the top of the card was a banner that said “Beautiful Bora Bora!”

His mission was obvious. But who had sent for him? And why?

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