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| 2007-12-12 |
| From the Soldiers' Angels Germany blog He has the Look. He’s tall, wiry, and explosive. And he has the Look in his eyes. I see it again later up close when I give him a couple of t-shirts. Like a deer in the headlights, but something else, too. Shocked, surprised, scared, and angry. Very angry. Shocked and surprised at the creeping realization that what he’d experienced was going to be with him forever. Scared about what it could do to him. And angry about it. He’d never considered all this before; he’d believed he was invincible. We didn’t talk about anything specific right then, so I don’t remember what led to me holding out a coin in the palm of my outstretched hand. “I didn’t get a single fucking coin,” he says bitterly, looking at it. “Some guys got tons of ‘em. I got a Purple Heart, but I’m not proud of it.” I continue to hold out my hand with the coin. I say nothing as we look at each other. Finally, slowly, he takes my hand. “Man, my nicotine level is getting low, “ I say, turning away. “I gotta go out for a cigarette.” “Yeah, good idea. I’ll come with you.” Outside, in the dark and the fog and the rain, it all comes out. . . . Go read it all. |
| Posted by:Mike |