Texas Nights - Book 13 of the Damned of the 2/19th

In the End We Only Had Each Other

Room 275
15th FSB Barracks
Fort Hood, Texax
CONUS
23 June, 1992
2000 Hours  - Thursday

The door shuddered as Stillwater hammered on it again.

"I know you're in there, Cromwell, open the door," he shouted.

I just sat there, staring at the floor.

We'd gotten back, marched off the plane, and went through debriefings and quick medical checks. Mine had taken longer. I had walked Captain Jane's body to the morgue at Darnell Army Medical Center before the briefings and medical checks.

Captain Hiddle had gone with us. He had been silent, his chin up, his face stern. Every inch the proper officer. A recruiter's poster. Gone was the nasty tone, the slight sneer. In its place was just emptiness. A remote dispassion.

He'd stood next to me while I'd turned in her weapons and sensitive items.

When we'd exited the company we saw two men, still dirty and in full battle rattle, under arms, standing on either side of three weapons jammed bayonet first into the ground. Two small boots were in front of the middle weapon, and Captain Jane's helmet was on top of the weapon. Her dogtags hanging from the pistol grip of the M-16A2. On either side of the small boots was a large pair of boots. Cherry's helmet and dogtags were on the left, Kidman's on the right.

"Heather, open the goddamn door," Stillwater yelled.

It felt like a knife twisting in my gut as I moved up and knelt down. I put my hand on Captain Misty Jane's helmet, put my dogtags in my mouth, closed my eyes, and prayed for her immortal soul. After Misty's, I'd touched Kidman's, then Cherry's, praying for both of their souls. Captain Hiddle had knelt too, reaching out with one shaking hand to touch the helmet of a friend nobody had any clue he cared about.

After he'd stood up, Hiddle'd asked me if I had anyone to help me box up my two men's personal effects. When I said I did not, not yet, he had stated, in a cold, dead, distant voice that he would assist me and he would choose two men from Bravo Company to do it while we supervised.

When we finished, Captain Hiddle had only said five words before leaving. "It should have been me." The words had been bitter, angry, full of hatred aimed at himself.

I'd eaten chow, showered, changed, then gone to Chuck's barracks.

Now I was back. In my room.

Alone.

I stared at the floor.

"Goddamn it, Heather, I'm going to kick this fucking door in, I swear to God," Stillwater shouted.

The pattern on the floor was just brown speckles set into yellowish cream color. It was dusty except for where I'd dragged my two dufflebags to my wall locker and chucked them in.

TO&E inspection was tomorrow, after we unloaded the Conexes and Major Cribb, the acting 15th FSB BNCO, inspected it all to make sure it was present and in servicable condition.

It had already come down from on high. The tents and anything cloth were to be loaded onto a 5-ton, taken out, and burned. The risk of contamination was too high for garrison. It had been fine for field work, even with the risk of trace contamination by blister agent, but now that it could be properly disposed of and replaced, Cav saw no reason to keep it around.

"I'm coming in on the count of three, Cromwell!" Stillwater shouted.

I heard the doorknob jiggle.

I glanced up at the door where I'd shoved a chair under the knob at an angle.

Then went back to staring at the floor.