Storiesonline.net ------- A Letter From Home by Barneyr Copyright© 2012 by Barneyr ------- Description: I know this may sound very familiar, but I really need to get this out of my head before I bust. It’s a lot like another story I read somewhere but I can’t remember where. But I have a slightly different slant to it. I want to thank soggyacres for the idea and impetus for this story. Codes: rom true ------- I had just come in from twelve days out in the mountains of Afghanistan. The recon patrol I led had been pinned down until we could get some backup artillery or a flyby from the Air Force or Navy. We went out to recon a supposed mountain hideout for the guerrillas in central Afghanistan, northwest of Jabol-os-Saraj, which is north of Kabul. Where we were was to the east of the A76 Highway; at least that is what it says on our maps. Anyway, we had been air dropped into the foothills of the mountains. I don't think anyone knows the names of these damn things. It was near a place called Kuh-e Kokzaro Zaghicha on my map. We were in the fourth day of following a well-worn trail, when we heard trucks heading our way either from the south or the north. We couldn't tell which by the way the echoes bounced around in these mountains. We tried to find some cover and blended into the rocks and scrub, and waited about an hour. We were astonished when we saw trucks laden down with tanks (the T-72 and a couple of T-80s, soviet jeeps (UAZ-469s) and some of their APCs (BTR-3 and BTR 80s) headed south, and not a half hour later when we saw empty trucks headed back north. We couldn't tell whether or not they were the same trucks for sure, but we didn't wait to find out. Anyway, to make a long story much shorter, we heading back to our rendezvous point for extraction. That is when we found we were sitting on top of a huge guerilla base camp. Were they Taliban or what? We had no idea, but this was a staging point for activity against us in the south. I sat down with the men, discussed strategy, then we spread out as much as we could and still keep within hand signal contact. I then grabbed my radioman and went about two clicks north, back along the line we had come down. I radioed for backup and gave them our position and the position of the staging base. More troops or extraction helos would not be available for at least twenty-four to thirty-six hours. I asked about an airstrike by either the Air Force or Navy. The Army Apaches were all on other assignments and couldn't be cut loose, and the Chinooks won't come near us without cover fire when hostiles are around. Our choices were to wait the time until help arrived, or we could try work our way out of the predicament we were in. I got back to my troops and we settled in for a long wait. I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Captain Robert Earl King, USAR (That's a reservist to the uneducated.) I was the leader of Recon team Bravo. We are a part of the 980th Engineering Battalion out of Austin, Texas. I am a computer software specialist when at home, working for one of the major software companies in Austin, and I live in Pflugerville, a town just north of Austin. I was raised in western New York and am an avid hiker and outdoorsman. My squad is made up of MSgt. Tom T. Hall; no relation to the country singer. Tom is my second in command and my best friend, both in the Army and outside as well. Tom also is a computer specialist, but his forte is hardware. Next is SFC Darrel Otis, my radioman and general electronics guru. Next in line is SFC James Tiberius Kirkham, my scout. Jim is a Boy Scout leader, our scrounger, and another avid outdoorsman. Jim can find anything, anywhere and make it work. Next up are Sgts. Harry Conner and Phil Dean. They are our EOD people. If it can go bang, they can either disarm it or make it go bang, depending on my orders. I have two Corporals, Billy Dean Grant and Gary P. Nutt. They, along with SSgt. Patrick Price, USAF, are my riflemen. Pat is my sniper. I had worked with Pat before on my first tour in the sandbox when he was a Senior Airman. That man can knock the dick off a fly at a thousand yards and never even kick dust up. Man, can he shoot. Now don't get me wrong; all my men, as well as I, can shoot damn good, but Pat is in a different class of marksmen than we are. We might just piss the fly off by clipping a wing or take his head off at that distance, but Pat is way better than any of us. That's why he's on our team. Thirty-six hours later, we noticed a big saddling up of the troops down in the valley. I think they are getting ready to bug out, so Darrel and I go off about two clicks again and I radio in, giving my opinion about the activity down at the base. I got a reply that the Air Force has a couple of F-15E Strike Eagles coming to help us out, but we really need to paint the base with lasers. I told them to give us about ten minutes and we would be painting from all positions. I got back and let everyone know what needed to be done and we awaited the F-15s. I got a one second squawk on my radio and we painted the base with lasers, then waited for the explosions. It was just getting to dusk in this part of the mountain ridge we were on, and the valley was already dark. Then from out of nowhere an aircraft came in fast and low, and all hell broke loose in the valley. It soon became the valley of death. One of the big bangs was the ammo dump. They had an underground ammo dump, but since they were leaving, the big doors were open and we made sure we painted the inside of those doors. The mountain shook for over five minutes with all the explosions resulting from that hit. I did a double squawk and heard, "Tally Ho, Bravo" which was the all clear signal, for us to move out. We policed our area and started out to our new rendezvous point that had come in after the strike. We all made it back and had a five day downtime coming before our next mission, or until the brass called on me again. I settled in my bunk after a really nice hot shower and decided to see what mail I had gotten. I could connect to the Wi-Fi from the communications tent two tents over from where our tent was, so I logged on and started sorting through my mail. I tried to call my fiancée, but it went straight to voicemail, so I looked for her schedule e-mail so I could tell when to call her. I noticed a priority e-mail, opened it, and read the following: Dear Robert, I'm sure that this is not what you wanted to hear from me, but I have found someone new. You don't know him as he recently transferred to our office from New York City. I was assigned to take him around and show him the area and the company. We got to talking and I found that we had way more in common than the two of us ever had. He is my age, which as you know, is seven years younger than you. I know what happened with your first wife, and also know that I promised you that I would not hurt you like that. I'm sorry, but I must hurt you again. It really hasn't been that quick of a romance, since he transferred here in December, just after Thanksgiving when you had left for your tour. It is now August, and we have only known each other for eight months, but I have accepted his marriage proposal. Your mother has the ring that you gave me. I just couldn't wear it after being with Charles for a while. Anyway, I do have a request of you. I sent you some really good pictures of myself and I would like them back, along with the one that you carried in your wallet. I don't want pictures of me making the rounds of all the guys over there, so please send me my pictures. I want to thank you for all the great times we had during the two years we were together, but it's time for me to move on. Michele. ------- Boy oh boy, the nerve of that woman! I just might put that one picture of her naked that I took before I left and put it on the internet. Wow, that would really frost her ass. Why is it that you give someone your love and they stomp all over it? Shelia, my first wife, loved the officer's wife life once I made Captain, and she was in her element. We then decided to settle down and for me to join the reserves so that I could get a pension later on. She decided that she wanted me back in the Army. I wondered why, and I found out three months later when I saw a friend at the PX at Camp Mabry in Austin. Major, and soon to be LTC (Lieutenant Colonel) Doug Masters, said he was going to get married again and that I knew his bride to be. It was Shelia. She had latched on to him before the ink was dry on the petition and would marry him the day after our divorce became final. Since I was still working for minimum wage at a bookstore, waiting for my interview with this new software company that was hiring, she didn't get much. I told him I was happy for him if that is what he wanted, but to watch out for her as she was a real go getter, and was hoping to be a General's wife before she would stop pushing, and maybe not even after only one star. Doug laughed and said, "So I get to retire as a General, is that so bad?" "I guess not, if that is what you want. Give her my best and I'll see you again." I thought to myself, 'Give her my best wishes for a long, slow trip to hell, ' but I thought better of it and let it go. I called Tom over and when he read my letter, he laughed and said, "Good riddance to bad rubbish. I never liked that bitch anyway. She always thought she was far better than you and that you were beneath her somehow. Are you going to send her pictures back?" "I don't know yet, I only have a couple of pictures, but I do have one she doesn't know about, and that one I just might let loose on the World Wide Web." "Bob, that could be part one of a two-pronged attack. I seem to remember my dad talking about something like that back in the days of 'Nam'. This guy was stationed at Kadena Air Base on Okinawa, and all his buddies chipped in a picture of their girlfriend or wife, and he sent the whole package back to her and said to pick hers out. He had so many girlfriends that he had didn't know which one she was, so he was sending pictures of all his girlfriends. I'm sure that would really piss Miss Priss off to no end. But he was to make sure her picture isn't among them when you send to her, and ask her to send the ones that aren't her back so you can keep track of the others." "Oh man, Tom; that would really piss her off. Let's do it, let's see if we can collect a picture of some of the guy's girls or wife and then we can send her a FedEx package and let her fume." "I have an even better idea, how about we get some of the women over here that have great handwriting to personalize the pictures and sign things like 'Love you, Bob', 'Hurry home, Honey' and crap like that on each picture, then send say twenty to her." "Oh man, Bob; you have a very devious and evil mind. Let's do it. Get the gang together and we can see what we can get started." It actually got out of hand rather quickly, and before we knew it, we had almost a hundred pictures to choose from. I got together with everyone in the mess tent and thanked each and every one of the guys and the women who volunteered to write something on the pictures. We sat down and weeded through all the pictures and picked out twenty that we thought would be the best, then the girls wrote some scorching salutations on the pictures, as we all got together to create the letter to go with it. Dear Michele; I have enclosed all the pictures that I carry around with me, but I have forgotten just which one of my women you are. So if you would please pick your pictures out, then I would really appreciate it if you please send me back all the rest. It seems that somehow all this time away from you, and all the death-defying missions I have been on, I have forgotten which one you are. Once you take your photos out of my most prized possessions, I can figure out which one you were. I guess you would eventually find out that I am a notorious womanizer and that I would be found out. I think that with all the traveling I have done within the military and the travel for my company, I have a fiancée in just about every city I travel to. So I now have one less, and I think I should thank you for that, since I really need to try to settle down and pick one to woman to be with as my one and only. I was kind of leaning towards you for that position as my wife for all times, but I can see that you didn't want that. That's the way it goes. I hope that you are happy with Charlie and have the kind of life that I thought you and I might have. Love Bob P.S. Don't forget to send my other pictures back. We got the letter and the photos together and put them all in a FedEx letter pouch and sent it off to Michele to see what would happen. I did call my mom a few days later to ask if Michele had given her my ring, and she said she had, and that she was so sorry about us breaking up. "Bobby, why did you tell her that you didn't want her anymore? She was so upset when she brought the ring to me and said that you wanted to break up with her. She said she was confused since you had planned to marry her once you got back. Did you find some other girl over there that you wanted more than that cute Michele?" "No, Mom, I didn't; she actually broke up with me in an e-mail. I got back from a mission and found out that she had found another guy at her work and they are now engaged." "Oh, Bobby, that is ridiculous, she only came over here last night to give me the ring and she was so upset she was crying her eyes out. She sat here on my couch and I tried to comfort her. And now you say she sent you an e-mail some time ago breaking up with you. When was that?" "Well, she sent it on the 10th and today is the 20th, so how could she be so upset yesterday about me breaking up with her, when she broke up with me ten days ago?" "All I know, Bobby, is that she was really upset when she came over last night. It was right after work when she came crying to me." "I think I know what upset her. She wanted all of her pictures back from me, and I sent them five days ago. Maybe she didn't like the letter I sent her along with her pictures. Maybe that was why she was so upset." I explained the e-mail I got and my response to my mother, and she laughed, "Bobby, you are an evil child sometimes, and that Tommy Hall is not much better. I know he had a hand in this too, so don't you go trying to say it was all you. I know you boys too well. I can understand why you did it, and although I think you got the reaction you wanted, it was pretty cruel of you to do that. Anyway, I have your ring and maybe once you get back home again you can find the right girl this time. I always thought that Shelia was wrong for you, and we both know she was, but I thought Michele was the right one." "Yeah, I know, Ma, I thought so too. I might see if Karen Woods is still available; she and I always were good together. Do you know if she is still around and not married again?" "I don't know, Bobby, but I can find out for you. If she is, do you want me to give her your address?" "That would be nice, Mom. Give her my e-mail address and I love you so much, Mom." "And I love you too, Bobby, call me again soon." "Bye, Mom." God, here I am thirty-five years old, and I am still 'Bobby'. Can I ever get over being five years old to my mother? My Grandma Ethel calls me 'Bobby' too. Sometimes, I don't think your parents or your grandparents ever think about you being all grown up. I don't see Grandma Maude much anymore, since she lives in California, but I'm still Bobby to her too when we talk on the phone or in letters. When I sent the pictures to Michele, I even included the picture I took of her sleeping in the bed all sprawled out after a long night of lovemaking with me and she was still nude. I snapped that picture with my camera as I was loading it into my briefcase. Maybe that was the last straw for her, and she was real upset because I could imaging that Charlie would have been there when she opened that package. Boy, I would have liked to be a fly on the wall when that happened. I never got a package with the other girls' photos back, but I never figured we would. I did heartily thank each and every one of the guys who provided a picture and all the girls for their input as well. I said right up front that I thought they would not be returned. They all gave willingly, so I wasn't too worried that they would expect returns. I did make it back home, but with a new woman to look forward to. We were lucky; we only lost two guys from our battalion to IEDs in the thirteen months we were over in the sandbox. We all said goodbye to Patrick, as he was going back to of all places, Patrick AFB in Florida. We did ask that if he could get some time off in the fall of next year, he should come to Texas so that we would take him hunting for some deer, or maybe some doves, depending on when he could get loose. I came back home to a warm welcome from Karen. She wrote to me about two or three times a week after my mother gave her my address. Things look promising, as even Mom and Tom like her. I may have a happy future yet. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2012-11-26 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------