So it's been a long day and I'm exhausted. On today's patrol we only had two IEDs detonate on us, but thank God our technology defeated those attempts. No one was injured this time and we actually killed a couple of those bastards. I never thought I'd be so indifferent to killing until they started trying to kill me daily. The thoughts of everyone back home keep me going, but it's the dreams of you that keep me sane.
As I drag myself into my room, I put my weapon down and start to strip off my body armor. No matter how much I wear it, it never becomes comfortable... I just notice it less and less. Wonderful. Soaked with sweat thru the uniform again. Oh well, at least the laundry is free. That's my third uniform this week and it's only Tuesday. After I rip off all my patches (damn Velcro... I still think that was one of the stupidest ideas the Army has had yet, next to the beret), I throw the uniform in a pile with the other two and promise to remember to drop them off tomorrow on my way outside of the wire, just like I promised last night.
I grab my shower stuff and head to the bathroom. I guess that's one thing I can be thankful for... RHIP (Rank Has Its Privileges). On this FOB (Forward Operating Base), Captains get their own room and share a bathroom. That way I don't have to walk a half a mile to the trailers each time I need to use the facilities. It also gives me a little more privacy, especially since my battle buddy and I are on opposite patrols, it gives me a little more alone time.
I pass the mirror and stop to make sure I didn't miss any injuries that might need to be looked at by Doc again. Nope, not this time. The only injury I've had was the shrapnel wound to my shoulder eight weeks ago, and it's healing well. Who knows? Doc did such a good just with the 7 sutures that you might not even notice it. I still haven't told you because I know how much more you worry since I volunteered to give up my medical position to go out and run patrols when our mission changed. Before I leave, I wonder how much weight I really have lost. I turn on the cold spigot and wait. Been in country for nearly 6 months now and I still have that silly belief that the cold spigot might put out something cooler than 110 degrees. But at least it doesn't scald you like the hot spigot does. I finally step in and the hot water burns at first but then I finally get used to the temperature and it's almost relaxing. My shoulders start to relax and I can feel the sleep monster attacking fast. I know I've got to hurry before it takes hold so I rush thru my shower and turn off the water. I towel off and wrap the towel around my waist like I do at home. I walk back into my room and sit in my recliner. I don't know who originally bought it, but I'm glad they couldn't take it home with them. As I lay back I drift away staring at the picture of our getaway to Catalina Island...
We had finally decided it was time to meet in person. Neither one of us was quite sure of what to expect, but whatever it would be, we knew it would be wonderful. Los Angeles was ideal. I knew plenty of places in the area so we'd always have something to do if we needed it. I flew thru the night so I'd be ready for you when you arrived. You weren't sure what to expect as I hadn't shared my plans with you. I just told you to pack clothes for going out and also for the beach. When you got off the plane, you walked out and looked for me, or at least what you thought I'd look like from the pictures we had exchanged. Just when you thought something may have been wrong, you saw a non-descript man in a suit coat holding a piece of cardboard with you name written on it. Confused you walk up to him and before you could even ask, he tells you that you need to hurry because I am waiting for you. He helps with your luggage and then takes you outside. He opens the door to a luxurious Mercedes and in the back seat you find a small bouquet of flowers and a half bottle of wine with a note. As the car pulls away, you read the note: "Enjoy a drink before your next flight. See you soon. Love, Me." You pour a glass of wine and ponder where the next flight could lead. Your ticket ended at LAX. About forty-five minutes later the door opens again. The driver helps you out and you notice you're at a small airport. He escorts you over to a waiting helicopter and loads your bags. As he drives away, the helicopter starts to vibrate and you can feel the ground pulling away from you.
Your excitement is mixed with anticipation since you've never been in a helicopter before. As you get about a thousand feet up in the air, you lose your breathe with the sights. You can see LAX about 10 miles away and the beach just within your reach. As the helicopter is turning you even catch a glimpse of the Hollywood sign (a rarity in LA that the air is that clear). Then you start heading over a large hill, the Palos Verdes Peninsula. PV has perhaps even more money than Beverly Hills and as you fly over the houses, you can see how obvious it is. When the helicopter gets to the top of the mountain you can see ocean on all three sides. Dead ahead, as if it's just floating in the sea, there is an island. You know immediately from hearing my stories that must be Santa Catalina Island, 26 miles from the Los Angeles coastline. You can see why I fell in love with that place.