You Only Die Once

Chapter Two

On my way to the Induction Center, I kept running my hands through my hair. It was longer than a military regulation cut, which was kinda like havin' none at all. I think they'd shave you bald, just for the hell of it. The army don't like helmet hair. I figured they'd keep the hair in little labeled bags for families, just in case your carcass had gone to shit, or they couldn't find all the little bits. That got me thinking about all the ways you could die that would keep them from bringing you home. I feel like you should be able to get the little bits of you taken home and given to your buddies. That way, they could see you whenever they wanted to. You're probably thinking: "What's with him? The war hasn't started, and his mind's already gone to shit." I don't think you get it. People who come home from serving their country don't have nothing left for them. Everyone wants to know what you did. " How many of 'em did ya kill? You ain't nobody if ya didn't kill 'em!" You don't wanna talk about it, but they keep pressin' you for details, and eventually you give in. Your Ma will start tiptoeing around you and avoid you like you've got a disease. Things are always different when you come home. Some brush ape will take over your job, and another one'll take your bird. Everyone forgets about you. The only thing they're celebrating is the fact that they didn't get drafted. They'll say: "Oh, Chris died? Hmm. That's a real shame. Hey, how about that Duke Ellington song?" The only way you get remembered is by not going. My depressing thoughts were interrupted by a hand on my shoulder. I tensed for a second, and my eyes darted around a little, before resting on a camouflage sleeve. Before I could get a better look at it, I was spun around. I immediately clenched my teeth and fists. "Easy, there, boy. Whatsa matter?" Aside from you scaring the shit out of me? "I got a draft card." He started beaming right after I told him that. It was hard to look at him, because his fillings were blinding me. " Servin' yer country, eh? Well, yer in the right place." I wished he would close his mouth. If I was being forced to look at him, he could at least close his kisser. "Oi. Over here." He nudged my Oxfords with his boot. "Listen up. Yer gonna get drafted, so we need to get you into shape. Test if yer well 'n all." "How do you know I'm going? Isn't there a chance I won't have to go?" "Nah, yer goin'. We need men out there 'n as soon as the draft notice got sent out, the whole country turned to women, not a man in sight." I felt my lip curl. " Not all of us are weak. Some of us are ready to go." He gave me a blank stare, then dug a deck of fags out of his pocket. He flipped it open, and shook one into his palm. "But you ain't." He took one long drag, dropping the ash on my shoe. He ground the butt out with his heel, and walked away.