A Journey to War
The chugging train engine filled Hosea’s ears. The baritone cry of the train whistle sang. He threw his duffel bag on the rack above his head and sat on the cold seat. It was not a leather seat. Its covering was an imitation of animal hide. It was a dark purplish red. It was ornamented with imitation gold. It was ugly.
The window was still fogged from the cool morning, but Hosea could still see the crowds that had gathered to see the multitude of young men off. Though he could not see her features, he saw Evie through that foggy window. Her shoulders were back. She stood tall, and Hosea tried to discern her emotions from that posture. Was she angry? Was she resentful? She had let tears fall when she spoke to him, but five minutes had passed, and five minutes was enough time to change one’s mind or be swept up by passion or shut off one’s emotions entirely.
Hosea turned from the window. He was at the back of a train car, and seats stretched before him like church pews. Unlike the church pews of the morning, each one of these seats was full. The heads of young men poked up from behind each one. No eyes were focused on a central altar or a central Christ, and none were quiet with the reverence of mass. The train car was full of voices, each louder than the next, each trying to be heard above the din. Each was full of the emotion Hosea had felt only fifteen minutes before. Excitement was an electricity in the air. All these young men, along with himself, knew their fathers had gone off to a previous war with similar excitement. Those fathers had gone off to war singing, and those few who returned had heads that hung low. The excitement was replaced by bitterness. Would these young men repeat that same mistake? Go off to war excited, return as half men.
As he heard those happy voices, the excitement returned to Hosea. That electricity in the air found its way into his veins. He was going off to war, but he was going off to a war in a different way than his father had. Hosea and all these young men were fighting an evident evil unlike the generation before them. They were off to a grand adventure. They were off to slay a dragon. Was not excitement appropriate in this case? Not many men were given a chance to slay a dragon.
***
Nausea still ebbed and flowed in Hosea. A haze of smoke curled around his head. He did not look around the room. His curiosity had waned. This was Daniel’s office. It held some interesting idiosyncrasies, but the sound of shattering glass was occupying Hosea’s mind.
Hosea pulled smoke into his lungs. He looked through the smoky haze at the beams of the ceiling. He heard more glass shatter outside the door. He listened to his two younger brothers as they whispered to each other. Daniel swore. Jeremiah muttered a curse. Hosea could not tell what they were saying, but he doubted either had found a solution to the men outside the door.
“Daniel,” Hosea hissed a whisper across the room.
The two brothers did not turn to him. They continued to argue.
“Hey,” Hosea called again, “you idiots, stop arguing.”
A final curse left Jeremiah’s mouth as Hosea spoke, and the two brothers turned together toward the oldest.
“You’ve—” Hosea laughed before continuing. “—we, I guess, isn’t it? We’ve got a problem.” Hosea shook his head, laughed again, and then sighed. “There is a limited amount of time. For all three of us. So, you’re going to listen to me. And you’re going to do what I tell you.”
Both brothers looked back at him blankly. Each waited for him to continue.
“Good.” Hosea nodded back to them. “I’ll take that as understanding from both of you.
Hosea saw disorder in both of his brothers’ eyes, and from the sound from the hall, he knew he had a limited amount of time to help them prepare for these men that had come to kill Daniel. Hosea shook his head. He was not surprised that Daniel had caused this problem. Daniel was always headstrong, and though Daniel was full of ideas, when he was put under pressure, he made decisions with little thought.
“Which brings us to where we are now,” Hosea thought. He thought he should laugh again, but he only sighed, shook his head, and glanced about the room.
“Okay, okay,” Hosea called to his brothers. “We need to brace the door.” Hosea had already plucked the cigarette from his mouth and pointed toward the bookshelf with the same hand.
When Hosea looked back to both his brothers, he saw Daniel shaking his head. “My books,” Daniel said, but he did not protest further.
“We’ll push the bookshelf up against the door,” Hosea answered both without hearing Daniel’s words. “And the desk too, if we have time.”
Daniel sighed this time, but he nodded instead of shaking his head.
***
The bus dropped into a pothole, and because Hosea had the top of his head tight against the seat in front of him, as the bus jerked back up, his teeth clicked together. Hosea grunted. He peered out of the corner of his eyes while keeping his head in the same position, and he saw the dark silhouettes of the other young men in the same huddled position as himself, head down, arms holding a small paper folder against their chests. The soft sound of snoring came from the young man next to him, but despite the exhaustion that filled each of them from many long journeys, most of them were awake. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw eyes alert with expectation. No one talked, not because of that tiredness but because they understood the seriousness of the place they were entering. All were solemn and tense before their inevitable arrival at training.
Hosea did not try to sleep. He doubted he would be more than a few minutes on this bus. But Hosea was incorrect. It was not another five minutes that he was on that bus. He was not sure how much longer he waited with his head down and in the dark, but it was far more than five minutes.
Then, after waiting with droning boredom and tight, tingling anxiety in his chest, the bus slowed. It snaked through several turns, paused at several stop signs, and finally stopped completely. The dome lights of the bus turned on, and Hosea heard the bus door creak open.
A moment later a man marched onto the bus. The only way Hosea could describe the man’s movement was marching. His body was not stooped at all. His hands were behind his back. His feet, from what Hosea could see while looking down, had their heels together with his toes pointed out. He wore shiny black boots laced up high, green trousers that seemed to flair at the waist, a tan shirt, and what he wore on his head would have made Hosea burst out laughing if not for the complete seriousness in the man’s posture and the growl that came from the man’s throat. On the man’s head was a large park ranger hat, sitting tall and pinched on the top with a wide brim at the bottom.
Hosea took in what this man wore in a moment, and in the next moment the man’s face commanded Hosea’s entire attention. The man did not look like he was made of human flesh. His face, his exposed arms and hands appeared as if they were hardened leather.
“Sit up straight. Look at me right now.” To say the man barked was an understatement. The man’s voice was raised like a shout, but many years of smoking cigarettes had made it angry and guttural. The man did not speak in a bark but in an odd howl, and it seemed to Hosea that as this man spoke every boy in the bus was of the greatest annoyance to him.
Hosea and the rest of those on the bus complied with the man’s order before he even finished speaking, and right on the heels of his other words, the man continued his annoyed, howling orders. “Aye aye, sir. Say it.”
“Aye aye, sir,” this bus of boys yelled.
“Louder,” the man screamed back.
“Aye aye, sir,” the bus shouted.
The man continued his rapid-fire howling annoyance in a voice Hosea only half-understood. The man welcomed them, though his voice did not sound welcoming in the least. He said something about a general. He said something about Parris Island. He shouted something else incoherent, and after this final incoherence, Hosea focused his mind solely on the syllables coming out of this man’s mouth, and he was able to understand again.
“From this point on, the only things out of your mouth are ‘yes, sir,’ ‘no, sir,’ and ‘aye aye, sir’” Every word out of this man’s mouth tumbled into the next. “You will respond ‘yes’ or ‘no, sir’ when I ask you a question. You will respond ‘aye aye, sir’ when I give you an order. Understood?”
The boys did not respond to the man. They were all focused on the man’s words. They were all stunned with the gravity and power with which the man spoke, and no way they could have responded seemed to fit.
“Understood?” Spittle flew from the man’s mouth, and his voice filled with rage.
“Aye aye, sir,” the bus full of boys shouted back.
“When you are speaking to a female, you will address her as ma’am. Understood?”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The man nodded. His leather face and cold, uncaring eyes scanned the boys on the bus, and Hosea sensed derision. “Now, get off my bus,” the angry voice filled the bus after that momentary silence.
“Get off my fucking bus,” the rage filled the man’s voice, and everything after that moment blurred together for Hosea. His mind was filled with the angry yells of several different angry men with wide brimmed hats. His hands remained crossed across his chest. He moved from his seat off the bus as quickly as he could, but even moving as quickly as possible, he was carried along by the movement of those behind him. “Aye aye, sir.” “Aye aye, sir.” “Aye aye, sir.” “Aye aye, sir.” They answered orders what seemed like a thousand times. They stood at pathetic attention. They were shuffled forward onto yellow footprints, told to stand straight, kneel, stand up straight, kneel a dozen times, and finally they were even told the way to stand. One thing was clear to Hosea because it was repeated within those short minutes. Every time one of those men shouted a command, he would respond until his voice threatened to break, “Aye aye, sir.”
***
Hosea had sat up with some difficulty and threw his legs over the side of the couch. He sat for a few minutes and watched Daniel and Jeremiah slide the bookshelf from the wall to in front of the door. As they moved it the final few inches, Hosea was overcome with exhaustion and allowed himself to sag backward and lean against the couch. The cigarette was half-smoked, and Hosea hoped for another immediately after. But he knew that even if Daniel had another, he would not have time to smoke it.
Daniel and Jeremiah had said little to nothing as they inched the bookshelf across the floor as quietly as they were able. As they moved the bookshelf across the floor, Hosea heard voices from out in the hall. He heard thudding and then a loud crash. The men had broken into one of the other offices, and he could hear their voices and the continued sound of crashing as the men ransacked the place.
“Do you think that’ll stop them?” Hosea heard Jeremiah whisper to Daniel.
Daniel sighed. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he answered. Worry filled Daniel’s face. To Hosea, he looked lost. From everything Hosea understood about this brother, he was intelligent. Daniel had ideas, but Daniel needed time to think. Ezekiel was the one who had lived in a constant state of worry, and because of this, Ezekiel had learned to think through problems with a constant cloud of anxiety over his head. But worry was not a friend of Daniel. Force Daniel to make a quick decision when he was under constant stress, and his mind would seize up. And here he was, pushed to make a decision with devils crouching at the door.
When Hosea heard a hard thump at their door, the color left Daniel’s face.
Another thump filled the air. With this thump came the sound of a crack and the loud murmuring voice of a man. A hand went up to Daniel’s face, and he shook his head. Hosea knew his brother was trying to figure out what to do, but he knew the man had no ideas. Hosea was sure that options were flipping through Daniel’s head, but none of these were good options.
“The desk,” Hosea said. His voice was barely a whisper. Daniel and Jeremiah both looked over to him. “Hide under the desk.” Hosea said as he gestured toward the heavy piece of furniture.
Jeremiah nodded, but Daniel did not answer at all. Another loud crack filled the room, and Daniel was already heading toward the desk. With another crack from the door that was even louder than these first two, Jeremiah scampered toward the desk. Hosea watched his youngest brother as he disappeared behind the desk where Daniel had disappeared only moments before.
“Hey assholes,” Hosea called back toward the desk. “Daniel, do you remember me on the couch. Were you planning on letting me die? Is that your plan?”
With those final words, Daniel peeked over the edge of the desk, another loud crack filled the room, and several books came flying out of the shelf.
***
The pack on Hosea’s back hugged his chest and pulled his shoulders to the ground. The pack was at least sixty pounds, but the pack was not the only thing he carried. A ten-pound helmet pressed down on his head. Combat boots pinched his feet. Ammo pouches, his canteen, and any other pocket he could find on the uniform was full, and though he had trained for weeks already, waiting in all this gear would bring about heavy breathing from him within a few short minutes.
“Alright, you motherfucking, fascist homosexuals,” the drill-instructor howled through the large room. “Any of you Oedipus motherfuckers know what the word ‘marine’ refers to?”
A chorus of “yes, sirs” and “no, sirs” came from the boys.
“Do any of you retards know what a rhetorical question is?” he howled back in anger.
This time none of the recruits answered.
“How do you cockroach pieces of shit answer a superior?” The howl of the man’s voice turned into a roar of rage.
“Yes, sir,” Hosea bellowed back with the rest of the recruits.
The drill instructor stared at them all with angry derision before he continued. “Marine refers to water, dumbfucks, fucking forty-five IQ point geniuses. You Isaac Newton, crayon-chewing, hand-in-your-diapers, shit-eating motherfuckers. And, as you can see, we are standing next to a pool. And what does a pool contain?” The drill instructors howling voice shifted from one of derision to a voice that sounded like he was speaking to toddlers. “Water,” the man’s voice returned to the same derision. “A pool contains water, you dumbfucks, and today,” the final word lilted up, “I get to watch all of you drown.” The man smiled for a brief moment. His eyes scanned the line of young men. His face filled with pleasure at the anticipation. And Hosea felt tension fill his tired chest as he waited for the man to speak again. But the man did not speak. He just smiled, and Hosea, filled with fatigue, allowed his mind to wander.
“Get in my fucking pool,” the man’s roar filled the room and before Hosea knew it, he and the rest of the young men were running toward the pool. Hosea did not jump into the pool. One of the young men next to him tripped and fell into Hosea, Hosea was pushed into the young man next to him, and a mass of bodies tumbled into the pool together. And Hosea was pushed under. He felt boots press against his shoulders and push him farther under the water. Hosea thought little of it at first. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he thought that once he was able to reach the surface, he would be able to float. When the boots stopped pushing him down, Hosea brought his hands over his head and brought them down through the water to propel himself forward. He did not start to worry until he was blocked by a moving mass of bodies and legs above him. His chest tightened and swelled with pain. His arms came above his head twice, three times, but when he opened his eyes to look up through the water, the light from above was blocked by the bloated shapes of bodies. Hosea tried to pull himself through the water with his arms again, but when he saw he moved little more than an inch, he felt the stuttering, flailing panic move through his mind. The panic filled his body with thrashing, and fear filled Hosea. He was going to die. Never even been in battle, and he was going to die.
In the midst of that convulsing panic moving through his body, Hosea felt something tugging at his chest. As his lungs felt about to burst, he felt himself moving up through the water. As everything began to turn black, the water above him cleared, and despite no effort by himself, he moved toward the surface. For a moment through his panic, Hosea wondered if he really was dead, but when he broke the surface of the water, took a deep and desperate breath in, and heard a laugh and a “You’re meant to be turned into hamburger by slant-eyed, samurai motherfuckers, not die on a trip to the pool” Hosea knew he was still alive.
***
Hosea heard Daniel’s heavy breathing in his ear. Jeremiah did not breathe as heavily in his other ear, but Hosea winced and braced at the pain in his armpits as his brothers dragged him from the couch to the desk. His forehead knocked against the top of the desk as they shoved him underneath, but he did not cry out in pain. The thudding and cracking from the door was becoming louder and more frequent, and if he cried out, those men would hear him.
Hosea brought a hand up and bit it as the pain started to fade, and as Jeremiah, and finally Daniel, squeezed themselves under the desk as well.
“Daniel,” Hosea whispered over to his brother. “The cops, call the cops,” he told Daniel.
He thought he saw Daniel nod to him, his brother disappeared above the desk, and he returned with a phone that appeared as if its cord was stretched to its limit. Daniel flipped the phone off its receiver, and it went clattering onto the ground. Daniel reached a finger and pulled the phone number. The phone number seemed longer than what Hosea expected. His head was still full of pain, and it was still difficult to pay attention to anything.
Daniel snatched the phone from the floor. He pressed it to his ear, and Hosea could still hear Daniel’s heavy breathing. “Hello,” Daniel’s whispered voice bit through the phone line. “Shut up, shut up,” Daniel’s voice was harsher this second time. “It’s Daniel.” Daniel shook his head in frustration. “Ezekiel, just, just shut up. Okay?” Daniel shook his head again more vigorously. “Okay? I need you to come to my office.” A pause. “Yes, my office. Go. Get Isaiah.” Another pause. “Now, right now. I’m not joking, damnit. Someone is attacking, no, no, will you shut up. Someone is attacking my office. Get guns. And get here as soon as you can.”
Daniel dropped the phone onto the receiver. He pushed the phone away, and he slumped back against the side of the desk.
Another loud crack came from the door. Hosea let out a growl. “You called Ezekiel?” He hissed over to Daniel. Daniel looked over to him. He only responded with a nod.
Hosea growled again and his shook his head. “What the hell are you thinking?” His voice was laced with frustration. “Call the goddamn cops,” Hosea commanded again.
“I don’t want to get the police involved,” Daniel whispered back.
Hosea’s skin grew hot. A fist of anger formed in his chest. He wished Jeremiah was not between himself and Daniel so he would be able to reach out and throttle him. “Why?” Hosea reached out a hand toward Daniel as a fist.
Daniel opened his mouth but did not answer. Another loud thud and crack came from the door. After this final, loud crack, Hosea heard a creaking and a final, loud crash. Hosea heard a laugh in the silence that was followed by the sound of feet crunching through debris.
***
Hosea lay on his stomach. His cheek was pressed tightly against the butt of the gun. Both eyes were opened, but his left one was unfocused. His right stared down the barrel past one sight and then the other. A drill instructor shouted in his ear. He felt rough hands on his arms, shoulders, hips, and feet. “Sight alignment, sight picture” was the echoed mantra of all the instructors on the range. “Sight alignment, sight picture . . . sight picture . . . sight picture.”
Hosea felt a hand on either side of his waist. They shifted his hips to the right several inches, and Hosea heard another bark in his ear. Every few seconds, Hosea would hear a yell and feel a hand fixing some error in his shooting posture, but he barely heard the yells and welcomed the correction.
Hosea’s left eye closed. He focused all his attention on the sights in his right one. The other firing guns faded into the background. The barking instructors were muffled. All Hosea felt was the rifle in his hands. He felt the butt of the gun pressed tight against his shoulder. His cheek stuck to the polished wood. His left hand balanced the front of the barrel. His right hand reached one finger out to the trigger. He felt its slight curve, and, in that moment, nothing was more sensuous than that feeling.
He connected to this thing in his hands. He felt every point it met his body at first and then the places where it met him become blurry. And eventually it did not feel like he held anything at all. His body extended from the tips of his toes to the muzzle of this rifle.
***
Hosea heard the heavy breathing from his two brothers, and he knew that heavy breathing was not because of the exertion of dragging him over to the desk. Their heavy breathing was because of fear. Hot fear was coming out of their mouths. Both of his brothers stared out from under the desk, and Hosea stared past them. He wished he was where Daniel sat. Daniel was sure to be filled with freezing fear, and Hosea’s younger brother would not use his vantage point to its fullest potential.
The three of them needed to find a way out. If they did not find a way out, they stood no chance against these men. Hosea doubted Daniel had a weapon squirreled away on account of it not being retrieved yet. If they had a gun, maybe they stood a chance. But since they had no gun, it appeared that the best chance was that window.
“Daniel, hey, hey, kid,” Hosea’s voice was soft.
Daniel glanced back at Hosea for a moment, just to acknowledge he had heard Hosea, and then he looked back at the room.
“They have guns,” Hosea continued.
Daniel glanced back with confusion on his face. He already had all the information he needed. Daniel already knew they had guns. It did not appear as if Daniel understood the comment about the guns.
“The window, the window,” Hosea pointed toward what he thought was the window with the limited space he had. “If we’re going to go, we need to go soon, otherwise we’ll lose our chance. It is a little hard to outrun a bullet, you know.”
A frown formed on Daniel’s face. Hosea saw a slight shake of the head from Daniel.
“We’ve got to fight, Hosea. There’s no way we’re getting down that fire escape fast enough.
Hosea opened his mouth to answer his brother, to tell him he was thinking stupid, but before Hosea could speak, Daniel disappeared around the corner of the desk.
And instead of arguing with Daniel and reiterating that the window was their only viable option, Hosea swore.
***
Hosea reached up to his lapel. He felt the cold metal, and he knew what that metal meant. Training had been grueling, but training was over. They had deemed him worthy of continuing on. They had given him this little insignia: a bird with a globe and an anchor. He was done. Only a few more weeks, and he would be in the tropics. Only a few more weeks and his forehead would be dripping with sweat. His hands would be cradling an M1. Home would be on a distant world, and the very real possibility of never coming home would become incarnate, made flesh, as it were.
Hosea pulled the insignia from his lapel. He held it in his hand, heavier than he expected. “We are winning the war,” he thought. “Less than a year, and I’ll be home. Less than a year.” Even with his silent encouragement, he did not feel better. His mind was in conflict. On the one hand, he still longed for that adventure. On the one hand, this was his duty to the world, and not so many men in generations past were given an opportunity to give their lives to a cause so meaningful. Wars were commonplace in the history of the world, but what wars were so clearly evil versus good? His whole generation had made the same decision. All of them understood that something needed to be done, and they all had marched to war without complaint.
On the other hand?
One’s demise was not something to take lightly. He understood what was awaiting him in his eventual afterlife. He had heard that mansions were in his future, a future secured by water and word backed up by blood. How could a mansion be in his future? He did not know that, and when he thought about it, he did not even know what a mansion was. But eternal bliss was behind a black veil. And being only a semi-devout believer, that veil was thick. Hosea doubted he had ever seen any light shining through. And he did not doubt that golden city was on the other side. He doubted he had the piety to unlock that gate. What if something else awaited him? What if he was not good enough?
In light of darkness, the thought of leaving all he loved and all his loved ones behind left a chasm inside him that even this accomplishment, and his coming adventure could not fill.
Hosea held the insignia pin in his hand for a moment. He did not look down at it; he only felt it. Then he reached up, he replaced it on his lapel, and he stood at attention as he had been taught.
“No matter,” he said. “I’ve got a duty to do, and come high water or Hell . . .” His voice trailed off. He might be shot. He might die. He might meet Satan instead of Saint Peter, but he would go off to war. He would do what he needed to do. Some things were more important.
***
Hosea swore at Daniel again. How could he be so stupid? Why would he be so stupid? Why would he not just listen? Because Hosea knew if Daniel listened, they would have a chance to survive, but if he did not listen, they were not dealing with something they could control. There was always the possibility that Ezekiel could come through. Ezekiel had no experience dealing with drug-dealers or men with guns. If Daniel did not end up dead, it would be because of chance rather than their own actions.
The only person in the room who knew anything about dealing with this situation was himself, but he felt nausea still curling in his belly. The only power he had to impart was his wisdom and his wisdom was worthless if no one listened.
Hosea swore again. “Half high,” he thought. “Half high, half dead. God, I wish I had another cigarette, and I goddamn wish Daniel never decided to find me.” Hosea brought both hands up to his face to rub his eyes, and he shook his head as he did so.
“Jeremiah,” Hosea nodded up toward his youngest brother with his own hands still rubbing his eyes.
Jeremiah looked to him. “Hosea, yeah, you alright?” Jeremiah answered.
“I’m okay, and I need you to get out,” Hosea answered.
Jeremiah stared back in confusion.
Hosea brought his hands from his eyes and gestured to the back of the desk. “Daniel. I need to talk to Daniel.”
Jeremiah nodded, but Hosea could sense fear in him. His youngest brother did not want to move from the safe space beneath the desk.
“You can go to the far back where I am right now,” Hosea continued.
Jeremiah nodded again and started to scoot himself forward. When Jeremiah had gotten outside of the desk, Hosea pulled himself after. When he had pulled himself out fully, Jeremiah clambered over him to the safety of the desk. Hosea heard a soft sigh of relief from his youngest brother, and he turned to Daniel who was crouched behind the desk, still hidden but with a look as if he were about to spring into action.
“Daniel,” Hosea’s words were barely audible. The men’s boots crunched through the room. Hosea could hear their heavy breathing and grunts, and he dared not speak loud enough for them to hear.
The problem was that he spoke too quietly for Daniel to hear as well, so he needed to reach out a hand to get his brother’s attention.
When Daniel had turned back to him, Hosea pulled his brother close and spoke. “What are you doing?” Hosea asked.
Daniel did not answer at first. He directed his attention toward the rest of the room, though only for a moment, and then answered Hosea just as quietly. “I’m waiting for an opening,” he said, then directed his full attention back to the room.
“An opening for what?” Hosea asked.
Daniel did not look at him this time when answering. “I see our only opportunity as attacking. If we can’t get one of their guns, we’re dead.”
Hosea shook his head even as Daniel spoke. “Our best chance is through that window,” Hosea answered. “You cannot charge a man with a gun.”
Daniel shrugged at the answer, but he did not say anything in response. He continued to peer around the side of the desk. Hosea watched as Daniel sprang up from behind the desk, and he, himself, swore under his breath once again.