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Apparently, I’m not a great drop-ship pilot. I’m not even a good one. After day two I’d settle for being mediocre, but so far I only manage to be abysmally bad.
This is the military, and nobody gives a shit about what we want. We take what we’re served, and we ask for seconds, and that’s the way it goes.”
“Right,” I say. “Kind of a waste, though, isn’t it?” She looks at me with an amused expression. “War’s a waste, you know. We just broke a shitload of property down there. Never mind the poor slobs we killed. Just keep in mind that they started the shit. I would have been just as happy to stay home tonight and have a beer at the noncommissioned officers’ club.”
I am still breathing, and a day closer to my discharge date, and that’s not bad at all.
“That man over there is one of mine. He dragged me through half a mile of hostile territory. If I ever hear you talking to him again like he’s some green recruit who overstayed his weekend leave, I will tear out your trachea and piss down your neck. Is that understood?”
“There’s no perfect place, you know. You always end up trading one kind of shit for another. Me, I’ll stick with the shit I know.”
Still, nobody back home in my neighborhood will ever see what I’m seeing right now, so even if I die next week, I will have come out ahead.
