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From: frank_fowlkes@yahoo.com
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Subject: Re: Marry me
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===================
Revision 5
Marry me
by
Frank Greene Fowlkes
A stumpy looking man entered the tent, looked around to see if anyone
was there to greet him, there wasn't, and, walking in the mess table's
direction, thought about calling out names but decided against it for
some of these brave men will not receive any letters tonight, or, for
that matter, the hard nights to come; he threw the thin stack of
letters on to the mess table and quickly exited with head bent low.
The young ones rushed up with rapid shallow breaths, and finding
their letter/s, quickly retreated back to their bunks with relief.
Some of the unfortunate men did not even brother going up to the
mess table less they be humiliated by not finding anything but one of
those bulk letters sent out by some of those local no-war charitable
organizations--letters stamped with "We're doing everything possible
to stop the war, and, hey, by the way, everyone back home appreciates
what you're doing; we'll save you some; we all love you. Hang in
there,
we'll get you home soon; PEACE."
A strange, small, lot of the older, hardened, men were neither
expecting nor hoping for any letters; those insincere days were over
as
far as they were concerned; they had a war to win; they didn't need
know what many were supposable doing for the world; they knew more
likely they were doing it for themselves, for their life, for their
future. They smoked quietly in the dark, waiting for the table to
clear.
One by one the letters disappeared until there was only one. And there
under the diesel powered light and the haze of cigarette smoke, the
letter held fast until, like a summating forest fire, it could no
longer be ignored.
"Hey, Bitchmule, you gonna get that letter or am I gonna have to
lose it for you; we got a game of Hearts to play," one of the men
said.
"Gimme that!"
"Join the club."
"Fuck you!"
The men laughed.
Case looked at the letter as he walked back to his bunk.
The letter was postmarked July 16, 1970, Detroit, MI.
Case thought to himself, it's November.
He sat on his bunk and stared at the postmark. He silently thought to
himself, I know her answer; it was unfair of me to ask; I should throw
the letter away; I have to keep my mind strait for my buddies; we have
a war to win; we have to get back home alive.
Scott walked passed several empty bunks and halted at the corner of
Case's unmade bed.
"Hey, Case, we need one more for Hearts; you want to play?
Case looked up.
"Uh, not right now."
Case motioned to the letter.
Standing there and unable to do nothing more, Scott looked at Case
until the silence became unbearable. He smiled.
"Ok. maybe later, eh?"
"Oh, Hell yeah!"
Case followed the slightly older man with his eyes. The man scared
him, scared him a little because of the rumors, strange rumors that
didn't make sense.
Scott talked to the other men at the table, and they all
turned and looked in his direction for a moment, then they all
rose, and soon all disappearing from the light.
Case looked at the empty bunks, Sam, Joey, Gram, and thought, I
have to read her letter; I may not comeback from the war; I have to
know her answer even if it means dying with it here.
He closed his eyes and felt the letter's edges.
Why had the letter taken so long to get here; what was the agency
trying to protect him from, Case thought.
Deep down inside he knew why, Scott was right, maybe they thought he
wouldn't be around much longer.
He looked at her handwriting on the envelope and knew it had changed.
It looked like some of the handwriting on those charitable letters,
stamped in bulk, all alike, only a blank line for a temporary name.
Case looked up startled. He heard some racket coming from a dark
corner of the tent. Two figures were slugging it out.
"The cigarettes are mine, you fucking sneak," one of them yelled.
One of the men threw a right, and, simultaneously, a head snapped back
and a woeful scream radiated throughout the tent.
Towering over the shrieking man, the weary soldier lit a cigarette and
said, "don't think I haven't been watching you, don't think I'll
pretend; don't start thinking I'll ignore what you're doing; don't
fucking push me; we'll make a point none of you will like."
A couple more shrieks broke, and, then, all was silent.
Case shrugged.
Another surprised and befallen suitor, Case thought to himself as he
reclined back on his bunk. He heard one of those men use that phrase
one night. He ask Scott later that night, bombs raining down, some
screams heard, rain, what the man meant by the phrase. Scott only told
him, when you bend, easier to snap, with help, but usually by
themselves.
And so, with some distant explosions being heard, and a couple of the
boys laughing and cursing, the letter lay in his trembling hands.
"Fuck it; I'm opening it."
And there, in the dim lit, current less, damp, tent, the letter was
open.
***********************************************************************
Dear Case so I
hope you are doing well and... Did you ... your sis is
good but one day
***********************************************************************
Case pulled out a smoke, lit the wrong end, and cursed.
***********************************************************************
I meet some new friends I
haven't told you about...
***********************************************************************
"You've meet some new friends," Case said out loud.
***********************************************************************
...there against the war because... they want me to go to
California;
they
know this... I'm sorry Case I
can't marry you;
something has come up I
will always love and support you I just can't support the
war, ;
some things here are just more important
I just
can't bear to lose any of my new
friends; they mean so
much to me
***********************************************************************
Case put down the letter and looked up. He breathed out, and, as the
smoke was whirling away, he saw some of the dead to be men whose hard
labor will be reaped by others faraway chanting "peace," and although
they choose not to see it that way, they benefit nonetheless. Case,
beside himself, knew it was not a gender issue; it was unisex---what
bloody person wouldn't want a better and easier life; who wouldn't
want to live forever; what two beasts in a cage wouldn't fuck. Case
read the rest of the letter.
***********************************************************************
you changed I can't even understand
some of the letters you send
me...
dark... you scare...
***********************************************************************
"You mean don't care to understand, bitch."
***********************************************************************
Case you remember that talk we had before you left
sorry I think
we
should go our separate
ways
you have nothing to offer me in our
new world
***********************************************************************
I should have got the bitch pregnant when I had the chance; no, that
would have never happened, Case thought, she was starting college and
way too smart to let that mistake happen.
***********************************************************************
I wish you well with your life
if you ever get back.
***********************************************************************
"I'll kill them," Case said quietly.
***********************************************************************
love, ya,
PEACE!
***********************************************************************
Case lowered the twisted and crumbled letter and visualized those
beloved long haired men and the women who love them pouncing around,
in ever so widening circles, with their little slogans held up high.
He thought, maybe he was their little Bitchmule; shit, their kind
are always cutting back military research, maintenance, letting more
and more of the civilian sector into the affairs of the fighting men,
giving our war veterans scraps, and preventing us from winning the war
once and for all.
Case was remembering some of the conversations he and the men had at
night while he watched them play Hearts. A lot of it didn't make sense
but one conversation in particular hurt, the men asked him about his
life back home. They all stared at him as he talked about his life,
Case leaving out most of it out because of not being able translate
feelings and ideas into words. He loved his parents even though they
were separated. He knew their reasons for separating were a little
true but he also knew now that Gabriel's reasons was little true too.
Case was a little shocked when he heard Gabriel speak about his
parents, never turning, and always keeping eye contact, because, one,
he didn't know a thing about his parents, their life, his life, but,
later he understood a little why he said what he said---we're in a
fucking war, and don't you ever forget that, and, two, he never heard
anyone talk that way, surely not back home, not in the movies, or not
any of the books he read.
He looked over at Gabriel's bunk it was empty, ambushed about a two
weeks back. And, funny thing, Gabriel was always too careful to avoid
props and a play, he knew what part they always wanted him to play,
dead and triumphant over, but sometimes you can't avoid where you have
to go in life, who you meet, and so they killed him, right, he looking
mad, wrong and themselves looking like heroes.
. . .
. . .
"He fucked wrong."
Case looked at the other men expecting them to smile, he not all in on
the joke.
"Or maybe she did."
Case was silent.
"He still had some life left, and he sure wasn't
going to waste it with the woman and their kid."
Case looked at the other men expecting a clue.
Then one of the other men said, he was going to
live, and maybe, he would find the right woman,
fuck right, and raise, their baby. . .
"His improved self," one of the other men interrupted.
". . . swell; and besides, she was lucky enough to have fucked
him and have the chance to have his kid, or really her improved
self, and have at least a chance to live forever, she sure couldn't
have done any better."
Case's face was red.
"When you have more then one, i.e., improved selves, more of a
chance to live forever, uh, Case?"
The men laughed.
"Hell, you can even sacrifice a couple of them, the one that are
lesser
than the others. They do it all the time. And those scarificed ones
are quite willing to be scarified, papa and momma should live forever,
even if it means they be the ones sacrificed to make that happen."
Case was beside himself. "You don't know my parents, my half-brother
and sisters, assholes."
The men laughed.
"So what are their reasons?"
Case was silent. "They didn't love each other anymore."
The men grew quite. Scott lit a cigarette.
"It's cool, man, love, whatever."
Case looked at Gabriel.
"We're in a war, Case, and maybe your love will win, or maybe not."
Case shook his head. "What the fuck are you talking about, man."
"Nothing, Case, just talking shit, just pushing buttons to see what
you
spit out, in your case, it was love. How original."
Case didn't know what else to say so he just left and went to sleep on
his bunk.
. . .
. . .
Case felt the rage swell, and the following broke, "Your lovely new
world, dear; we'll see about that."
Case took a deep breath and thought, "those fucking hippies are the
ones that are going to cut back on research, maintenance, and the
advancement of winning the war once and for all; they will not
belittle our mission or our lives; this war will be won."
Case suspected the reason was unisex---after some booze, cool hippy
music, drugs, and some fucks, they're all off to make sure they'll
live forever.
----
Odyssey: VIETNAM, his four year ODYSSEY-cut out the trails, one eye
jack, and stuuf, AND HIS
RETURN HOME LATE 70's, back home to the "NEW WORLD"
Case listen to some of the young soldiers and they didn't talk like
some of the soldiers Case talk to at night while dreaming, talked like
those men who always played hearts at night.
. . .
Case was mad. The men held him down. Scott bent down.
Scott said, "You're right, these boys are here for their families, for
their country. But all this isn't about the boys, they'll be returning
home, alive and well because of their faith and courage.
Scott paused.
. . ."Maybe all this is isn't about them its about some of the boys
who won't be returning because of . . . [[guess]] . . .
Scott stood up.
"Don't you too bend, Case, they matter more then the soldiers
returning
home alive to carry on with their lives. And maybe they matter more
than just creating the little comfy world many expect to live in
Forever.
Who wouldn't want a little more money
after tax day to... Chucks, they earned that capital all by themselves
didn't they.
Why would anyone want that capital wasted on a Bitchmule and
to winning the war once and for all, much better spent on things that
matter in the comfortable world of the few?
Case looked again at the letter and, in his mind, "doesn't feel
beastly anger; beasts are young; her friends are young; but, Case was
intellectually alarmed; they don't stay young forever, and soon those
beasts grow old, ignorant, powerful off the labor of the fallen, and,
hell, they even start to think they have a right to exclude us
returning soldiers that think differently from having any part in this
world. Think again, beasts!"
"Old blood plunked down, plunked down for not only you but for all."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Case looked at his watch, still a few hours till patrol, and
decided to take a short nap.
(Dreams of returning home.)
And surrounded by the artifacts of war and guised truths back home,
young Case dreamt of a future family, country, and God.
A thud like jolt awakened Case.
-----
Case at night, when sleeping, talked to dead soldiers. They told him
stuff.
"A war to win, get back home alive" they said, laughing, "more like a
migration sometimes."
"Those slowly pushed out to death as to make room for those back
home who really matter."
...
men having to make choice, which can be easy, like . . .
"A new war for . . .?"
"the only war that has every has been waged is get rid of
competition at home."
"It happens when not enough pussy to go around, or the pussy
is already staked or used, i.e., not fresh, or something
like that."
"Why would that change now?"
The only purpose of war, or murder, is not to defend life but to kill
life
that doesn't matter, or that gets in the way.
And that happens by people closer to the center pushing those
not so close out, to war, to . . .
"they'll be more wars, more murders, plenty more, but not for the
ideals
those close to the center speak, defend life, but to give
those who matter back home the best chance to score a piece of ass, or
as it usually happens, several asses, so theirselves, their life, can
continue, ssweet.
and They will live forever, and those who don't, get push out, and
don't
matter but, they mattered in a way, they have special days,
remembered,
giving
those back home more room,
more pussy, more food.
"So send them away, and if they happen to return,
those close to the center claim their victory as their own,
but if they lose let them
get the our leftovers, however few of them return."
----
Case returned from just another 'war,' migration, then four year
journey; and found the suiters
had won, his baby was dead, s.i. syndrome, his high school sweetheart
did not wait,
his life was over, his world gone
his long journey, trials, no longer mattering, not recorded,
and so with no woman, no life(dead baby), no stake,
no purpose
a new side is chosen.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"It's time to move, saddle up!"
Case sat up and looked at the twisted letter. The boys in camp never
like the way Case read letters. They say that he would twist and
manipulate the letters until he read what he wanted. But what they
didn't know was that Case was only untwisting them. He was reading
them without the guise and hack.
But, he knew just as he was unbending and untwisting the letters with
his hands and mind, there were beasts who were doing tighter and
stronger twisting. He knew he must stay vigilant.
Case thought, they all be damned; let them try.
No beasts will ever tell young Case how to read his letters, breathe
his air, raise his future kids, or live and act in this world that he
risked his life for.
Case left the letter, which to the casual observer looked crumble, on
the bed. He started to prepare his gear.
Case looked back at the letter and thought silently to himself,
"I could shape and bend her letter the way they want me to; the way
it's been done since the dawn of time." But I won't; this world will
not be their inheritance.
Case viewed the men dawning gear and thought "it will be ours."
He started to walk towards the opening, thought of something,
paused near one of the empty bunks, and pinched a plug of
tobacco.
"What did I forget!"
Case went back, picked up his rifle, and headed to the opening.
Case unlocked the safety and tapped "Dear bitchmule letters, beasts
frolicking, and their psywar, all be damned; these men matter, this
war matters, my life matters, and nothing will ever change that."
Case looking at the men file out of the tent ahead of him knew he must
do everything in his power, now and tomorrow, to give these few brave
men, even the one's fighting for a pack of cigarettes, here and back
home, the best fighting chance possible to win the war and make it
back alive to their homes to reap the harvest of their labor and love.
"As long as there is a War, the U.S. military and its veterans
will be support to the maximums of your coffers you bitch.
Be warned
of who or what you put first."
(Case starts his four year journey.)
. . .
(Then he returns home home, in mind, New world, 1977, or around there)
. . .
This might be a 15,000-20,000 word story, naw, I'm not putting in the
fluff, maybe 10,000.