Last Detail by Walter Jones

Sunday sleep evades me again. Moaning toad, nail him with my bayonet, one less sound to keep my eyes open. Hear the crying again, claymore went off last night, he or she are dying a slow death in a tunnel someplace. How can the sun look so grand in this hellhole? Three days left, I get to go home. I wonder what is there. Rudy has one semester left he will be a teacher; Jim is on traveling league with the Navy. Electrical engineer, what a waste. Damn they got some kid trying to turn a claymore, this one is smart enough to run. “You should have killed him, he will be back to slit your throat.” “I will be gone, he will be your worry, if he comes back.” Laundry detail, sure I drive the truck into Long Bin, get my physical and be headed home.

“You got anything wrong with you? What about that scar on your collar bone”, “I am great, no complaints, just sign so I can get out of here.”

“Stewardess, can I get you anything?” “How about a drink, I’ll trade this medal.” “That’s ok its on me, keep the medal, I don’t want it.”

Sergeant, “Your not out yet, police up this area” smile and gesture. Flop down on bunk,
Name called, line for problems, line for leaving. Buy ticket home, listen to some hippies calling me a baby killer, drop duffle bag, pick him up by his shirt, he pees his pants.

MP grabs me and reminds me that what I had in mind was not a good idea.

I get off the plane, everybody is working, and I catch a cab home. The little boy has changed into a young man, but he is not a pretty sight to see. He has been trained to kill and not much more.

Room has not changed since I left, mom left dinner in oven for me. I am home, now what?

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Last Detail
by Walter Jones (Age: 62)
copyright 11-19-2003

Age Rating: 13 to 127

Prose-n-Poetry.com

Last Detail by Walter Jones (Age: 62) copyright 11-19-2003 Age Rating: 13 to 127

Last Detail
by Walter Jones (Age: 62)
copyright 11-19-2003

Age Rating: 13 to 127