From The Seduction of Emy and Other Stories

Copyright 2023 A. R. Gregory

 

Colonel Pusi and Miss Perfect

I was back in the war zone working on an article for The Post, this time about military suicides, since there’d been a rash of them in the news lately. So I decided to look up my old high school buddy Hack. He might have a tale or two about guys killing themselves. Hack had enlisted right after our high school graduation, before I went off to college, then he reenlisted just before I got my degree in journalism. Last time I talked to him last year, he told me he loved the Army, said he was going to re-up again.

As luck would have it, I was able to reach Hack by phone. He was back at his home base after a month in the field. “Yeah, dude! Come see me!” he shouted. Same old Hack, everything having to be shouted. “But make it quick,” he added. “I’m headed back out next week.” I didn’t mention my article. Best to catch Hack unrehearsed.

Two days later I was lounging with Hack in his hooch, drinking canned beers with him as he steered the conversation to our high school football exploits. Hack had been a beefy tackle, me, a lanky wide receiver. Seven years later Hack, the consummate trash talker, could still recount every one of my embarrassing fumbles.

Even though he was “getting short” after a year and a half in-country, Hack displayed no visible signs of war weariness. He’d always been macho to the core, but now he’d added the airs of the seasoned military pro to his repertoire. When I mentioned suicides, Hack rolled his eyes, sniffed, “Boot camp’s sposed to weed out those types.” Sure, he said, he’d heard of guys who “got wack” from combat, who did “all kindsa dumb-ass shit,” even “snuffed theirselves,” but he never knew any. “Not in my unit,” he claimed. He reminded me of back in school, why I’d always hid my interest in writing from the guys on the team, especially Hack....