Three Little Snowmen (Damned of the 2/19th)

by Timothy Willard

  We all nodded at that.

  "Come spring, we're all gonna know each other's secrets like we was all there," John mused. "Well, them that's still alive."

  "Think we'll go all blood crazy on each other?" Carter asked him.

  John just shrugged. "I'm supposed to leave on the first of December, man. Under thirty days, I'm short as fuck," He shook his head. "This time next year, I'm gonna be National Guard and this place will just be a shitty memory."

  "Next time they clear the roads, you can head to Graf," I told him.

  "Holy shit, that was like," Hernandez counted on his fingers slowly, "Ten words or some shit. You all right? Need to lay down? Throat a little sore?"

  I grinned at him. "Buzzed."

  Everyone laughed at that. It got quiet enough to hear the cassette spooling in the tape deck before the next song on the mix-tape started up. More disco.

  "Your brother, he said you don't fight back," Hernandez said after a bit. "Why's that?"

  I shrugged. "Don't like hurting people."

  "Yet here you are. In the Army. In the Gap. With the rest of us," Carter shook his head.

  "Sure hooked up that sniper after he wasted Westlin. Wasted his ass good," Hernandez shook her head. "Westlin was pretty good. Goddamn waste she went like that."

  We all nodded.

  "Still, your brother, Will, said you used to just stand there and let people punch you up," Hernandez said. "That true?"

  I nodded, staring at my drink.

  Hernandez shook his head. "Can't see doing that. Just standing there and taking it, letting someone just beat the fuck out of me and not doing anything about it."

  "Seen Ant fight. He'll fight if he ain't got no choice," John said. "Seen him break a boxhead's arm so bad the bones popped out."

  I just nodded.

  "Course, fuck stabbed Ant right in the ass," John laughed. "Fritz's knife was still stuck in Tony's ass, Tony broke his arm so bad the bones popped out and the boxhead fucker pissed all over himself."

  Ugly laughter that I joined in on.

  "Wish I was short," Carter said softly after a bit.

  "We all wish you were short," Bomber snickered.

  "Eat shit, Texas," Carter laughed.

  We were quiet again for a long time. Every time someone went to say something either we heard shouts in German followed by a crashing sound, or there was a scream out in the hallway.

  "I hate this place," Carter said softly. There was a scream out in the hallway and he jerked a thumb at the door. "Sometimes I wonder if sooner or later those are going to be our screams that some poor bastard has to listen to."

  Again, we were silent for a little while.

  Finally, Hernandez spoke up, his voice quiet, subdued. "What's the worst thing you guys have ever done?"

  "Why the fuck would you ask a question like that, dude?" Carter asked.

  "If I know the worst thing you've done, I know what you might do," Hernandez said softly.

  Carter nodded. "Makes sense," He nodded again. "Yeah, yeah. If we know what the worst thing we all did was, we know just how far you might go," He took a long swig off his drink, wiped his mouth, and inhaled deeply. He gave an explosive exhale and looked at us all. "That way we all know what each of us did to piss off God bad enough to send us here."

  "You first, Dez," Bomber said.

  Hernandez nodded, sipping at his drink. "Worst thing I ever did?" We all nodded. He sighed. "Fine. One of my sister's friends got all drunk and high, passed out in my room. Woke up to her sucking my dick, thinking I was her boyfriend," He paused a second. "So I fucked her. Let her think I was her boyfriend. They broke up because of it."

  We all nodded.

  "Bitch shouldn'ta got drunk and sucked your dick, she didn't want fucked," Carter said, shrugging. He took a drag off his cigarette. He was a social smoker, only smoked when he drank. "Fuck it, I'll go next," He took another drag. "This one's pretty fucking bad, guys."

  "Then tell it," John said, staring at the floor. "Can't be worse than mine."

  "What's yours, Texas?" Carter asked.

  "Fucked my cousin," John said, shrugging.

  "Oh bull shit," Hernandez snickered. "We ain't following for that bullshit just because you're from Texas. Now give up something you actually did wrong."

  John nodded, giving a sudden grin. "Yeah. Well, how about the fact I'm leaving?"

  "Dude, you're fucking short. Any of us would slit our mother's throat to get out of this shit hole," Hernandez added. "Try again."

  I noticed Carter was still staring at the floor.

  John sighed. "We were going to State for football. It's a big deal in Texas," He said.

  "Yeah, no shit. Right up there with God and guns," Carter said, still staring at his feet.

  "I was in town, saw the QB for the guys we'd be playing against. Beat the shit out of him so he couldn't play," John shrugged. "Knew we couldn't beat his team on the field with him, so I broke two of his fingers. Stomped his hand. Found out later I cost him his scholarship."

  We all nodded.

  "Primacy in all things, victory at any cost," Carter said, shrugging.

  "Shit, I'm surprised you didn't flat out murder him. Fucking Texas and their football," Hernandez said.

  John just shrugged. "Always regretted it, but to be honest, I'd do it again. Cost him his scholarship. They gave it to me. Went to college, then ended up here. Hell, he probably got the better end of the deal."

  That made us all chuckle, although we all stopped when the lights flickered and came back dimmer.

  I opened my mouth to say something when Carter spoke.

  "I was eleven when my parents died," he said. "They'd been on vacation to Ireland. Some IRA faggot blew them into chunky salsa," His voice was low, ugly, full of self-loathing. Hernandez, Bomber, and I all looked at each other.

  This was gonna be ugly.

  "So the State put me in with my hippy aunt," he said slowly. "Well, I turn thirteen, my aunt's hippy friend decides to give me a gift."

  "She fucked you," Bomber said softly.

  Carter nodded at that. "That's not the bad part."

  John reached out and put his hand on Carter's leg at the same time as Hernandez and I did.

  "Worst part was, I knew it was wrong, and kept doing it. Ya know?" He said. "She's like thirty then, like forty now. She'd pick me up after school, I'd fuck her, she'd take me home to my aunt before dinner. Sometimes I'd spend the weekend or the night at her house."

  "Yeah, totally get it," Hernandez said.

  "Joined the Army to get away from her," Carter said. "Fucked me up, man. Been five years, still can't, you know."

  "Yeah," I said softly. "I get it."

  All three of them looked at me.

  "How about you, Stillwater?" They asked me. "What's the worst thing you ever did?"

  I was silent a moment.

  ...please don't tell, Aodan...

  "Does helping Iraq gas Iranian troops count?" I asked.

  "Fuck no. Fuck them rag-heads," Carter snarled.

  "Nope," John said.

  "Fuck them camel-jockeys," Hernandez said. "Chemical weapons are our fucking job. They'd have fucked it up if you hadn't been involved. Shit you've done for Special Weapons and ChemCorps doesn't count, so that shit in the New York subway and off the coast of Florida don't count either."

  "Atlas don't count none neither," Bomber told me.

  "Let the man speak," Carter said.

  I shrugged. "All right. Lemme think a second."

  ...please, don't tell...

  John poured me another drink.

  I sighed. "I really can't think of anything. I don't like to fight, to hurt people, so I don't have any fighting stories. I was a good kid," I half-lied. "The worst I did? Hell, the worst thing I did before I joined the Army was the thing with the cop, and you guys know that."

  "Really? That was the worst?" Hernandez said.

  "Yeah. I had a naughty girlfriend, but that doesn't count," I told the
m. I shrugged. "Sorry, man. Never really did anything that bad."

  There was a shriek in the hallway and Carter shook his head, chuckling to himself.

  "Guess God just hates you," He said.

  "Pretty much," I answered.

  "So, that naughty girlfriend," Carter said, visibly shaking himself to change the subject.

  It worked.

  We spent the rest of the time before we all went our separate ways talking about girls we'd known and lying about girls we'd wished we known.

  Another night on Alfenwehr.

  Not a bad one.

  On the mountain, you took what you could get.

  Joyful Dancing

  Two Man Rule

  Is In Effect

  At All Times

  In This Area

  2/19th Company Area

  Restricted Area, Fulda Gap

  Western Germany, Europe

  07 November, 1984

  "That goddamn silent act of yours is starting to annoy me, Corporal," Sergeant Mayer said, staring at me.

  We were on CQ again together. Nagle and Bomber were on Duty Driver and ADD, respectively. Daniels was supposed to be on ACQ, but he'd been running a fever of 102F that morning, so Spec-6 Jakes had put him on Quarters and told him to stay in bed for a day or two and get better.

  It wasn't like we could get him off the mountain. He'd either live or die.

  That was Alfenwehr.

  It wasn't like that in the entire military. Normally, the military would do their best to get you to medical attention. A soldier was a serious expense. Time training times the number of trainers time the amount the instructors were paid time the amount the soldier was paid times the cost of keeping the training facility open plus the cost of equipment and maintenance. Add in things like food cost, fuel, electricity, and a soldier was a massive investment.

  Civilians cared about the fact it was a human life.

  The military was a machine. The accountants in the Pentagon didn't care about human life, they cared about the quantitative numbers. It had been that way since the Vietnam War. The bean counters in the Pentagon only cared about the cost.

  It was just life, or rather, like most of the Cold War Bullshit I had to put with, just the cost of doing business.

  "You hear me, Corporal?" Sergeant Mayer asked, pulling my attention from my thoughts and back to him.

  "Yes, Sergeant," I said, lighting a cigarette.

  "Ugh. I hate you," Sergeant Mayer said, shaking his head. "I could always order you to talk, soldier."

  I just shrugged.

  Sergeant Mayer turned to face me. "You really piss me off. I've known you less than a month, and you've gotten on my last goddamn nerve, Corporal." He snarled.

  I just shrugged again.

  "How about I just sign out, leave you here in charge of CQ all night, huh, smartass?" he snarled.

  I just stared at him.

  "How'd ya like that?" He asked. I didn't answer, just shrugged. His face flushed. "In Cav, we answered higher ranking NCO's when we were spoken too."

  The phones rang and we went through the fifteen minute ritual of answering all twelve phone calls.

  Hearing "Three One Seven, alles ist okay," made my stomach twinge.

  Once they were all logged by time and order, we sat silent for a moment.

  "Go do the security checks, asshole," Sergeant Mayer said.

  "Two man rule, Sergeant," I reminded him.

  "Back in Cav, we followed orders," He started.

  I stood up, shrugging, and picked up the keys.

  "Sign for those," Mayer said.

  I just signed, clipping the ring to my belt.

  As I headed for the near stairwell he called out to me. I stopped, turning to look at him.

  "I'm logging out. You can handle CQ, tough guy," He told me. "Go wake up the ADD, he can keep your ass company since he likes making excuses for you."

  I just shrugged, staring at him until the door shut.

  The LT had cut the security sweeps down to from noon, midnight, and zero-five hundred, an hour before you went off, to when you came on at zero-six and midnight.

  It was only twenty-hundred. He was just being an asshole. I knew it, he knew it, but that's how he wanted to do things.

  The sweeps weren't that big of deal.

  But the barracks felt slightly wrong. Every time I opened a stairwell door the wind shrieked. There were moans when I opened doors to rooms. Twice I heard the crack of what sounded like a gunshot but my brain tried to classify as the building settling.

  I'd grown up in old houses. I knew settling.

  It wasn't settling.

  When I finished the checks I headed upstairs, into Hammerhead Hall. John had moved from our room at 275, in the middle of the hallway, he'd been put in 292, on the far end, on the rear parking lot side. I could hear country music from inside the room, so I banged on the door.

  When John answered, the big blond Texan had on his duty uniform of BDU's, highly polished jump boots, and a can of Coke in his hand.

  "Hey, Ant," He said, looking me up and down, taking note of my starched uniform and polished boots. He gave a sigh, "I ain't gonna like this none, am I?"

  I just shook my head.

  "Lemme guess, that asshole Mayer signed you over CQ and told you to wake me," John said, shaking his head. I nodded. John gave a big sigh and motioned for me to move. When I did he stepped out, pulling out his keys.

  "Figures. Fucking Cav shit-talker," He grumbled, locking his door. He turned and started walking with me toward the CQ Area. "Let me guess, he got all pissy that you wouldn't sit there gossipin' like an old mother hen so he just logged out and left you an' me holdin' the bag?"

  "Ayup," I told him, reaching for the double door.

  That's when I heard it. Tap shoes and singing in Yiddish.

  "Shit," I pulled my hand back and shoved open the Middle Stairwell door.

  It didn't budge.

  "Goddamn it," John said, shoving open the second-floor laundry room door.

  We moved into the laundry room, stopping and waiting. It was freezing cold.

  "What do you think would happen if we saw her?" Bomber asked me, rubbing his hands together.

  "Our faces would melt, duh," I answered.

  The tap shoes and singing went by. Then a sound like something was scraping about four to six feet behind her.

  John snickered at the reference while I lit a cigarette.

  "She's really creepy," John said after a moment.

  "Yeah, ya think?" I said, putting my Zippo away.

  "Christ, we been hearing her since October, hell, some of the females done said they been hearin' her since September," John said, moving over and turning on the dryer. "Fuck, it's colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra in a snowstorm."

  That made me chuckle. I could tell John was nervous, his accent came back.

  "Leavin' us up here with that ol' girl, it ain't right," John said, jumping up to sit on the dryer. "First it's her, then it's Tandy playin' peek-a-boo with the females, now she's back. I just hope it don't mean he's next, because I don't think he's gonna be interested in playin' no peek-a-boo this time 'round."

  That hadn't occurred to me.

  "Shit," I said.

  "She's a fucking storm crow, man," John said. "Little creepy ass girl comes in, singing her little Jewish song, tap dancing through the halls," He ran his hand through his short blond hair. "What do you think happened to her that she's stuck here?"

  I shrugged. "Some SS butcher probably made her his pet, strangled her when he got bored," I guessed.

  "Jesus, those fucks were creepy," John said. He gave a short laugh. "Seriously, man, fucking Nazi's topped out the creep-o-meter, ya know that?" I just shrugged as he kept talking. "Confederates? Nope. Bunch a good ol' boys fightin' for what they thought was right. Kiaser, hell, we done forgot all about him and his point-helmeted boys. Koreans, Vietnamese? Shit, they was just tryin' ta get the French to fuck off."

  "A
yup," I said.

  Outside the laundry room door a woman screamed. Long, and filled with agony.

  "Screams are frozen in the ice," I grunted.

  John nodded. "Remember that cave we found this summer?"

  I nodded as I moved up and put my hand on the door. "Yeah."

  "Fucking stalactites of fucking iron rock, all dripping. Shit looked like the whole cave was made of blood," John shuddered. "I hate this fucking place."

  "She's gone," I told him. "Let's get back to the CQ Area."

  He just nodded, reaching behind him to turn off the drier before jumping off. We headed down through Near Hammerhead Hall, heading for the CQ Area.

  "How long ya think before we all get cabin fever?" John asked, rubbing his hands together as we crossed the halfway point.

  I just shrugged.

  "You were in J-Max, right?" He asked me.

  "Ya," I said. I'd told him this already, but he was obviously leading up to something.

  "You get put in solitary?" He asked me. I just nodded. "How long?"

  "Two months," I told him. "Will got put in Gen-Pop, I went to solitary."

  John looked at me. "Why?"

  I sighed. "I hurt someone. Bad."

  John sighed. "Tell me, brother," he said. I shook my head and he put his hand on my shoulder. "Tony," he said softly.

  I sighed. "First seventy-two, you're in isolation. It's to dry you out in case you're high, see if you got any major medical problems, and let you know where you stand."

  John stopped me. I stared at him and I lit us both cigarettes.

  "What happened," John asked me. "They transported you and William to basic in fucking cuffs, man. Warned the drills you guys were dangerous. William I could see, but dude, you were five-foot six, man, baby-faced as hell."

  "I hurt someone bad," I told him honestly. "Self-defense. Didn't charge me. Went to solitary. Had to do classes, with a tutor. They'd hand-cuff my left arm to the table."

  John whistled. "You took the ASVAB in juvie?"

  I nodded. "Yeah."

  John shook his head, leaning against the wall. Tile halfway up, paint over cinderblock for the second half. Suspended ceiling.