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From: frank_fowlkes@yahoo.com
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Subject: Re: Marry me
Date: Wed, 11 Feb 2004 17:16:39 -0800
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===================
7.1
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.
A couple of the young soldiers 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, for 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 war, 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
yelled.
"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, rehearsed many times alone, 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. Scott and Gab
intercepted the letter one morning and kept it from Case, not because
it was anything new, people fuck the best available, and Case was far
from being the best, much less to wait for, but because maybe it would
be too much for the kid, with him listening in on the men when they
played Hearts, and his consequent nightmares. And so, they kept the
letter, and would of kept it until Case's last day but Larry persuaded
Scott to give him the letter tonight, Larry had a bad feeling about
tonight, and if the boy was going to die, other side of the world,
green and dark, blood staining the black earth, let him die with a
little of their truth---Larry was a sick little puppy.
"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
made him aware of his breathing. One of the boys told him one night,
about a year back, at the same time when some innocent villagers were
killed, that he heard about the special mission that caused their
deaths from one of the recon villagers, and decided to confront the
four men. One of the men asked him what he wanted to know, and without
waiting for his reply told him: they went to arrest a suspect guerilla
leader; he was with his family chatting and eating rice when we came;
we had him surrounded, and he knew, we too, that he had special
information and wasn't planning to be taken alive, i.e., he was going
to sacrifice himself for the cause, but you could tell something
wasn't right; he was too close to his family, and if he wasn't
planning to be taken alive then he would have to fight, putting his
wife and their kid at risk; it was dark, and the fire just made
matters worse; then the man moved quickly, and Larry opened up, then
Gab, then the rest of us; we searched the place later, only finding
some wet papers he was supposed to deliver somewhere, a map, and
plastic doll, and then we left but not before we searched him--he had
a grenade; maybe we should have let him rush one of the boys,
distancing himself from his family, so he could blow himself up but to
have allowed that would have allowed him to get closer to one of us,
maybe are lives aren't as important; but don't worry soldier, Case
would wonder about this the most, and the guy who told him the rumor
couldn't explain it either, we hear the guy has about nine other
brothers and sisters, not to mention his other kid and woman, about 20
clicks north of Pao; he went to his grave well knowing he's still
alive.
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 disappeared 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, many won't;
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, maybe 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 scream radiated throughout the tent.
The men around them began to cheer. Case stood up and saw Larry
standing over the man.
Towering over the shrieking man, Larry lit a cigarette and
said, "don't think I haven't been watching you, plotting, don't think
I'll turn away; 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 saw some of the cheering men grow silent, confused faces looking
at each other. Case shrugged and sat back down on his bunk.
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, bend, snap, with help, but usually by themselves.
And so, with one or two 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
getting
over
been over
a year now
you know
she meet someone new down at the plant. . .
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 himself with some of those 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, Gab told him
once, they benefit nonetheless. Case, beside himself, was beginning to
know, after all this time here, listening to the men talk, and making
sense out of his nightmare, it wasn't a gender issue, it was man,
woman, and child---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 are changing
***********************************************************************
"You mean don't care to understand, bitch," Case said, angrily.
***********************************************************************
Case you remember that talk we had before you left
Under the black tree
dead grass
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 Gab was right, he was their little Bitchmule; shit,
their kind are always cutting back military research, maintenance,
letting more and more of their personal interests into the affairs of
the fighting men, giving our war veterans scraps, and preventing us
from winning the war once and for all.
Case wanted to close his eyes and sleep but sat up instead. "Win the
war, alone, once and for all." Case took a deep breath. "Win the war
once and for all."
Case put the letter back into its envelope. He then thought about
writing back, she at least deserved that, to know he was still alive,
and ok with her, ok with himself, ok with life, but he didn't want to
write for her any more, i.e., contribute to her life, her image, her
future any more, so he decided not to reply, at least not now, not
this way. He was dumped, dumped on the side of the road, and there
was nothing he could do to change that but write something to make her
feel pity now, and later, when grey and old, and needing to find
something to keep her mind occupied when not with her grandchildren
and their future, some guilt. He didn't need that, pity or guilt; he
needed her; he needed a reason to kill, to live, and now he didn't
have anything but a letter and some thoughts. They'll find a way to
use you, to explain you away, Case remembered the man he hated the
most saying to Larry one night, there will be no apologizes to anyone,
not to the dead, not to the wronged, not to the marginalized living,
in their new world, but this he did feel despite that, he wasn't going
to be one of their props, to be remember one night when there's
nothing to talk about, to claim to have known and now speak for when
there is no longer a trace of his existence, to have claimed to have
always supported. Case looked at the table, some cards scattered over
its surface. Case sighed--maybe he was just another prop for someone
else's life, looking then at the seat Gab uses to sit at.
Case tried to remember Gab's last words to him. "Be right back. Save
me one of those cookies your moms sends you." He missed Gab. He would
dream of Gab now, sitting around a fire with other men talking about
the best way to win the war. Case reached under his bunk and pulled
out a box with some of his mom's cookies inside. He looked in,
nothing.
"Fuckers!"
Some of the soldiers looked at him. Case twisted his face. Case then
stood up and walked outside. He looked around for a place he could be
alone, all the usual places where already taken. He settled on
crawling into a light depression in the ground twenty or thirty meters
south from the tent, Airborne digging it for cover after one of the
first jumps to secure the territory.
Case turned on his side. He was wishing he was never born.
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, not back home, not in the movies, not in
any book.
He thought about Gabriel's bunk, it was empty, ambushed about a two
weeks back, seventy clicks south of here. And, funny thing, Gabriel
was always too careful to avoid bait, 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 heard Gabriel put up a good fight but it
wasn't enough he was still defeated dead, not to imply that he was
defeated with any treachery, it was a fair fight, just maybe the stage
was wrong, the audience and cast wrong, or maybe it was just something
he ate. They all trampled on him after he fell, even the village's
women and children.
Gabriel saw their anger, and as he lay there dying and hearing their
anger turn to laughter his last thoughts were they would just have to
wait to see his anger.
Case thought about his own bunk and imagined it empty too. He closed
his
eyes.
"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 has some life left, and he sure wasn't
going to waste it with the woman and their kid."
Case shifted his weight and 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 new and 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 new and
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., new and 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 sacrificed
ones are quite willing to be scarified, papa and momma should live
forever, even if it means they be the ones sacrificed, or they
sacrifice someone else, kill someone else, that's in the way, to make
that possible."
Case was beside himself, his fist clenched. "You don't know my
parents, my brother and sisters, assholes."
The men laughed.
"So what are their reasons, for separation?"
Case was silent. "They didn't love each other anymore."
"And what about for breeding?"
"Love."
The men grew quite. Scott lit a cigarette. Larry started looking
around the tent, scratching his head.
"It's cool, man, love, whatever."
Case looked at Gabriel.
"War's ending, Case, good chance your love will win."
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, love."
Larry raised up his hand above his head, peace sign.
Case didn't know what else to say so he just left and went to sleep on
his bunk.
Case opened up his eyes. He stared at the top of the black grass
ripple, flash, rip, flash, rip.
***********************************************************************
OUR NEW WORLD
**********************************************************************
Rip.
**********************************************************************
I can't marry you.
*****************************************************************
Flash.
******************************************************************
You won't be a part of our new world.
*****************************************************************
Rip.
*******************************************************************
Love ya, PEACE
*******************************************************************
Case felt the rage swell, and the following broke from his lips
silently, "Your lovely new world, dear; we'll see about that."
Case took a deep breath and thought, "those hippie's self-interests
are going to get in the way of our research, maintenance, and the
advancement of winning the war once and for all; they will not
put down our mission or our lives; this war will be won." Case was
being to suspected the reason was simple---after some booze,
some slogans, cool groovy music, drugs, and some fucks, they'll all be
off to make sure they'll live forever, putting themselves, their
interests, forever in the center, and who won't be, the dead, and
everyone knows the dead don't matter.
Case pushed himself back up of the ground. He entered the tent and sat
down in one of the chairs near the entrance. Case twisted his torso
side to side. He looked around for something to distract him. He saw
some soldiers surrounding a fellow looking at a porno magazine. Case
imagined them all jacking off and thinking about holding their
new and improved selves after some of momma's grunts and screams.
He saw another dude organizing all his letters into some sort of
shrine, a picture of a girl and her soiled panties in its center.
The guy was praying and saying something softly. Case couldn't make
out the words. He saw Larry smoking a joint and talking to a black
guy, the black guy nodding now-and-then and sometimes getting in a
word or two.
"So fucking what," Case heard someone yell, "so fucking what, you
don't fucking like it, then shut the fuck up and go take yourself
somewhere else and die, no one needs to hear it." He heard the guy
laugh, then silence. He then heard some voices but they were too far
away to make out. Case didn't bother looking outside to see who said
it. The guy was right, Case knew, no one needed to hear it, no one
needed to hear anything but the same old promises. Case looked at
Larry again, his fist in the air, black guy nodding, a roach passing
between them, and thought, so what, maybe the dead don't matter, so
what, promise, new and improved self, so what, my life really matters.
Then Case said out loud, "just seven more weeks and I'm coming home."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . .
Case listened 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.
. . .
"I don't get it, why?"
Larry started to laugh.
"Man, you think we get off on this?"
Case was trying to move over to the building to try to keep them all
on one side but Gab out flanked him.
Then Gabriel said from behind, "you think this shit not going
anywhere."
"No!"
Case felt his legs go out from under him.
Then one of the men Case hated the most said, "who'd expect anything
else out of you."
Case was mad. "I tried to do what you told me."
The men held him down. Scott bent down.
Scott said, "You're right, these boys are here for their families, for
their country, or just maybe out of dumb luck. But all this isn't
about these soldiers, they'll be returning home, alive and well
because of their faith and courage or maybe just plain dumb luck.
Scott paused.
"Maybe all this is isn't about them it's about some of the boys
who won't be returning because of . . .," Scott paused again.
Case saw sweat on Scott's face.
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."
"And oh, this isn't about revenge, or hate, or destruction, or an
another piece of ass, or pity, or some amusement ride, or board game,
or someone thumping on a bible, bout putting faith on what we know to
be true, bout accepting what we know about ourselves, others, and our
motives, and bout giving someone else a real chance." Case looked at
the man that he hated the most.
"What the fuck are you talking about, give who a real chance?"
The man kicked him in the face, and Case faded out.
. . .
\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 themselves?\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!"
. . .
1 year later
"We all have our stuff that keeps us going don't we, Case?"
"Baby?"
"Yes!"
"You're baby is dead."
"Went to sleep one night and never woke up."
"You're lying."
"You weren't around, couldn't keep a job, you left."
. . .
"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 but also dream of talking, old wars and old,
dead soldiers.)
Going to work, going down to the beach, meeting women,
. . .
talk with the dead
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. They told him of old wars.
"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 direction 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."
. . .
Men go out on their mission, all the men are killed except a handful.
Case goes home for a year meets a new girl, tries to settle down, but
soon discovers the subtle ways to separate, when measure aren't meet.
. .
(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.
Odyssey: VIETNAM, his four year ODYSSEY-cut out the trails, one eye
jack, and stuuf, AND HIS