Chapter 28: For The Good Times

As routine and mundane as the clinic duty may have been, it was still a rewarding experience for me.  I learned a lot working there and felt that I had matured as a soldier and a medic.  That maturity was becoming more evident when I ventured out with Christina to the Goose on occasion.  I didn't drink myself into oblivion as I had before; as a matter of fact, a few of the 'Goose Gang' had slowed it down considerably.  I guess we all matured a bit while we were deployed.
Around the end of my clinic duty in early 1994, I noticed intermittent spots appearing on my hands.  They were small red bumps that would itch like crazy and spread across the knuckles of my right hand and onto the back of my left hand.  It got to a point that it was becoming unbearable, so I decided to seek treatment.  Doctor Mitchell suggested the rash was perhaps a latex allergy to the gloves I wore, so I changed to non-latex.  That change didn't help and one of the places in my left hand grew bigger and became scaled over.  After Captain Salzman looked at it, he told me it was a planter's wart and froze it with liquid nitrogen.  That took care of the place on my left hand, but left a scar from the nitrogen burn.  It wasn't uncommon for those of us that came back from the desert to have to get testing done routinely, as tuberculosis was a threat to us.  Several came back and tested positive for the disease on the skin test, but not symptomatic.  I chalked my skin issues up as just 'one of those things' and dealt with it, mainly because no one gave me a definite answer as to why I had a rash to begin with.  Little did I know that the issue would become a life-long problem.
I knew my clinic duty was nearing a close and I would be back in the field before long with 6th Battalion, 43rd Air Defense Artillery; so I hoped to get something going musically with Gaines and Ludeke.  We practiced as often as we could and finally landed a potential gig at the Officer's Club in Katterbach. The date was set and Captain Salzman and Captain Mitchell said they would come support us, along with others we had invited.  The gig would be on a Saturday evening at 1830 hours and had the potential to be a great debut for our band.  The only problem was, the Officer's Club was locked tight when we went to set our equipment up.  Captain Salzman arrived and was as puzzled as we were, so he went to find someone to resolve the situation.  A few moments later, he came back shaking his head.  Apparently, the club's curator had decided that the club wouldn't be opened due to one of the aviation units being on alert for a deployment.  No one had contacted Gaines and let him, or anyone else associated with our debut gig, know the change of plans.  This was before the widespread use of cell phones and social media was not even an embryo at that point, so we had no way to contact those who planned to attend the show.  Dejected, we left a note on a piece of paper on the doors stating the gig was canceled and left.  We had worked up a lot of songs and were eager to let people other than our spouses or significant others hear us, but it wouldn't come to light.  Not long after our failed debut, Ludeke got word he was also being deployed to Bosnia to support NATO troops.  Our band dreams had been dashed.
 The final weeks of my clinic duty were routine, yet eventful in some aspects.  The first event happened late one night just off Katterbach's far gate.  It was routine for the aviation units to conduct training at off post sites like Oberdachstetten or the one behind Katterbach located near Sachsen.  A helicopter was conducting some type of training and lost power mid-flight.  The crew tried to recover the flight, but ended up setting down hard; crash landing in a field.  Medics rushed to the scene and the helicopter's crew was transported to the 526th Clinic for stabilization, then sent onward to Wurzburg Army Hospital.  The clinic was activated after hours as an emergency medical facility, so only a few selected staff members were on hand for the incident.  When we arrived at 0700 for duty, the last injured soldier had only been gone approximately an hour and a half.  Ludeke, being the only radiology technician, described the situation; most of the soldiers hurt were complaining of back injuries, but one had some significant injuries from the crash.  This was some of that long awaited excitement I had waited for, and it happened before I was even awake.
Another eventful incident was due to my own clumsy nature.  I was working with Captain Mitchell and had a patient with a place on his hand that appeared to be a large wart.  I was told to prepare a vat of liquid nitrogen so we could freeze the place off the soldier's hand, and as I was pouring the mixture into the vat, I bumped the table and spilled some onto my left hand, causing a large blister to form.  I continued my task and acted as if nothing had happened in front of the patient, but the captain saw there was something obviously wrong.  After the patient left, Captain Mitchell looked at my hand and told me it was serious, but not as bad as it could have been.  He put some silvadene cream on the burn and bandaged my hand so I looked like a one-handed boxer.  It wasn't long afterward that the pain set in; a pain far worse than the sunburn I got in Saudi Arabia.  I was prescribed the medication of choice, ibuprofin, to ease the pain and any swelling.  Just my luck, injured in the line of duty because I was clumsy.
By mid-May, I was back at Shipton for good and the battalion was gearing up for field exercises.  My first field trip back from clinic duty was at a firing range in Oberdachstetten.  It was a small arms range, mainly officers qualifying with pistols.  It wasn't uncommon for the medics to fire off some rounds after the 'official' qualifying was over.  In fact, on some ranges with heavy arms, medics who normally wouldn't fire weapons such as the 50 caliber machine gun and 203 grenade launcher participated; although they couldn't use the session as a true qualification due to being non-combatant.  At the small arms range, I was allowed to qualify for my pistol badge and qualified as an expert.  I could wear the badge because medics frequently carried a pistol as a sidearm, so it was a proud moment for me.  Back in the aid station, a lot of new faces were among us.  Since I was at Katterbach, SFC Bechtel had left 6th Battalion and moved on to another post.  Our new platoon leader was Corporal Fowler, who had went to Saudi with us and was stationed at Riyadh.  Among the new faces was a guy named Combs, who reminded everyone of the character Bull off the television show Night Court.  He was hilarious with his off the wall quips and take on everyday things, and could always lighten the mood. Another new face was Hayes, a tall, skinny kid who always struck me as prissy and thought he was a bit above everyone else at first meeting.  There were a couple other newbies that had, by now, been in the unit for a while, but were new to Donnelly, Rucker and me.  Martinez was still technically my field partner, but he was soon getting married and going on leave.  Our battalion schedule looked very busy for the next several months with several field deployments and range duties, and a tactical evaluation more intensive than the ones we did before our Saudi deployment. 
The changes within the battalion were not only at the platoon level; Captain Taylor was gone soon after our return from Katterbach and replaced by Captain Stocker.  Captain Stocker had previously been a commander for a Patriot battery and seemed to be very personable and in touch with the soldiers he commanded.  First Sergeant Banks had been replaced by First Sergeant Jones, who was not the upbeat and friendly person 1SG Banks was.  In fact, it seemed the new first sergeant really didn't want to be in the position. 
My first full field deployment since clinic duty was a two week assignment near Kitzingen with Headquarters Battery.  Field duty with HHB was different than with Bravo Battery, mainly due to HHB's role as the command and support base during combat operations.  We sat up a large tent that we used as the battalion's aid station and for the entire deployment, provided guard, KP and other non-medical duties as the commander and platoon sergeant saw fit.  A couple of times, we had field classes on first aid that involved members of the battery who were not medics.  Each battery in the battalion had what was called Combat Lifesavers who were trained to do basic combat medical skills.  It was up to us to make sure they maintained their skills and trained new lifesavers on a battery level.  The deployment was rather mundane and uneventful, and the weather, aside from being a bit cold, cooperated.
Life off duty was moving along at a steady pace.  I finally felt comfortable with how Christina and I were getting along.  Contrary to what I may say these days, there were good times between us.  To pass the time prior to going into the Army and before I bought my first guitar, I built model airplanes and Star Wars kits.  I wanted to get back into doing that again, so I ventured out to the toy store in downtown Ansbach one afternoon.  I bought a model World War II era military vehicle and the modelling fever was back.  Our apartment had a big, built in shelf curio with glass doors and interior lighting, perfect for displaying items, so I took advantage of it.  At first, Christina wasn't too happy about it but I convinced her it would be neat.  Soon, more model planes and military vehicles started filling in the empty shelves.  At the Katterbach PX, I found some Micro Machine toys that were the Desert Storm series and bought the whole lot of them.  There were tiny soldiers, tanks, HUMVEES and Patriot Missile launchers.  I put them on the shelves, much to Christina's dislike.  Later in the relationship and marriage to come, I would have done it for pure spite and to get under her skin, but for the good times, I was like a kid again and excited to have a place to showcase these toys.
Christina and I would go up the hill into Bleidorn and see Jeremy and Misty or Harold and Salina quite often.  One evening, we gathered at Jeremy's for a birthday party for Misty.  Gaines came over with his guitar and we sat on the balcony drinking and singing songs from Blind Melon and other artists of the day.  Times like those always stand out as fond memories to me.  There was one person that Christina had friction with, Cowden's wife Tonya.  Tonya was a very outspoken woman who didn't mix words.  That was evident when Christina asked Tonya to cut her hair and then asked for a refund because she didn't like the style.  The two got into a shouting match prompting me to intervene and make Christina leave Tonya's apartment.  The last thing Tonya yelled at us was, "boy, you got a long road ahead if you are gonna be with her".
What little off time I had from the battalion was spent going back and forth to Burgbernheim.  Gunter took me places he frequented, like his hunting spots near Illesheim and a gasthaus nearby that had some great food.  One day he took me over to Oma's house and showed me a room upstairs he kept hidden out of sight.  In there was all sorts of Nazi memorabilia; uniforms, weapons, medals and a large Nazi flag were just some of the items.  These things should have been in a museum, but under German law, they couldn't be displayed publicly, and had the government known about this, they would have undoubtedly raided the house and arrested him.  Gunter made some comments here and there about his thoughts on the Nazi Party, and he said he agreed with much of the party's agenda.  His point being was that Adolf Hitler brought a war torn and financially broke country into a thriving and proud industrial might, to which, I agreed.  Then he said that he supported the idea to take things by force and any other means if that is what made someone or some country great.  He felt that the Nazi's were justified in reclaiming Europe after the Great War.  I really didn't see eye to eye with him, but it was also very interesting and thought provoking hearing the perspective from the 'other side'.
Gunter's father was an airman in the Luftwaffe, or German Air Force, during the war and served at the Illesheim airfield.  Modern day Illesheim is one of the Army's Apache Helicopter bases, but during World War II, it was a resupply and armament stop for the Luftwaffe.  The airbase also housed a squadron of Heinkel bombers in which the elder Georg Markert worked as a mechanic.  When the Allies bombarded Illesheim, the airbase was destroyed, but Gunter's father survived and lived until the 1980's.  If you stand on the high ground behind the church in Burgbernheim, there are ponds dotting the fields leading into Illesheim, which were explained to me as being old bomb craters that had filled with water.  All through my life until that point, I had only really heard the story of World War II though the American side.  Hearing Gunter talk about his father and his thoughts about the Nazis was a real eye opener for me.
 As spring progressed, the pace picked up again at Shipton.  We were in the field more and more, and soon we were up to participate in a joint exercise in Hohenfels.  I always heard horror stories about Hohenfels, that it was always rainy and mud was measured in feet.  We would be part of a multi-force tactical  exercise that would mimic being fully combat deployed and operational for the entire two weeks.  Rather than one battery going off for training, the entire battalion would participate in some way. Our deployment phase began as usual with us being alerted and reporting to our respective battery location.  Items were already pre-packed a few days ahead and ready to go when we pulled out.  The route would take roughly two hours and would bring us within about an hour's drive time of the Czechoslovakian border.  The trip down the autobahn was rather boring, so somehow we coordinated with the other medics to turn to a frequency on our mobile radios that was not monitored by battalion.  We were treated to Combs giving us some hilarious tour guide like commentary, among other funny observations of how some of the towns looked like they should be pronounced.  I'm sure had some wary commo commander been able to pin us to the source of short wave radio entertainment, we would have probably gotten reprimanded for sure.
We arrived at the Hohenfels garrison late in the afternoon and was told we would stage there for a day or so, but we were still considered under tactical conditions.  The barracks we were housed in were long metal buildings with rows of bunks, much like the platoon bays in basic training.  At our end of day safety briefing, the commander told us under no circumstances could we go wandering outside our areas, especially to the shopette for alcohol.  We dismissed to our barracks and could change out of our BDU's into civilian clothes; soon afterward, a growing boredom came over the room.  Directly across from our barracks was a movie theater...well, it technically was still within our area of operation...what harm would it be?  A group of us exited the barracks and the fenced in yard and waltzed right over to the theater to see the movie called The Ref; a comedy starring Dennis Leary that was quite funny.  Once the movie let out, a little after 2100 hours, we casually walked back into company area...right into the stern gaze of an obviously displeased senior NCO.  We were quickly told to form up and start doing push-ups, much like basic training.  There were probably fifteen or so of us, the most senior was a sergeant who took the lead for us.  He argued the fact of the close proximity of the theater, but was quickly rebutted.  The area we were confined to was to only be the barracks, no further.  Point made, indeed.
We were awakened the next morning at 0500 and told to form up outside.  We did a short PT session and afterward, told that only certain batteries would move out.  Some of the medics were to deploy early in the day, while the rest of us waited and readied for the move order.  The downtime consisted  of last minute equipment checks and card games.  Finally, Bravo Battery was called up to move out.  My field partner was Hayes, and he was just entirely too clean and dress-right-dress for a field exercise.  Hayes had been stationed at another installation that downsized and hadn't been in the field quite as much as I had, so this adventure should have been entertaining.
We convoyed out deep into the German forest, and sure enough, there was a skim of mud on the dirt roads we were on.  We could hear the booms of artillery off in the distance and passed a column of tanks and armored troop carriers moving through the fields along the road.  This was much, much different than our usual field exercises already.  Bravo Battery finally reached our destination after several minutes of passing through dense forest and up steep hills.  Our site was an open field that was muddy, but not the muck as we had been told to expect.  We sat up our tents and camouflage netting and settled in for evening chow.  Even though Hayes was clean for field conditions, he jumped right in and helped out.  He said that this was what he envisioned himself doing and not being in a clinic the whole time.  After a while, the two of us began chatting and Hayes wasn't all that bad; but he still had that prissy aura about him.
The two weeks seemed to drag by and at one point, we had to break the field site down, regroup and relocate to another site further in the 'box' as it was called.  The weather wasn't too awful during the exercise and mud was to a minimum.  Aside from a couple of guys coming into our aid station for minor bumps and dings, things went smoothly.  The day we were to load up and move out, it was all hurry up and wait.  By the time Bravo started moving, it was nearing dark.  All of us were filthy and smelled from being out in the woods for so long.  For the trip back after dark, we were under strict orders to travel in 'black-out' conditions, meaning no headlights and only the small black-out light on the front of our vehicles could be used.  This made the trip even longer because we had to maneuver down the hills and across tank trails almost blindly.  We finally arrived at the holding barracks where the trip began around 2230 hours and conducted a head count and inventory.  During the formation, we learned that a HUMVEE of guys from another unit had wandered off the trail and actually struck a tank in the darkness.  The HUMVEE was wrecked and the soldiers were evacuated out of the 'box' by helicopter.
We stayed the night at the barracks, and the most part of the day until the whole battalion could regroup.  One of the trucks from Headquarters had broken down during the exercise, so Hayes and I had a couple of more soldiers ride back with us.  It was getting near dark before we left the holding area and we were all worn out from the lack of sleep during the deployment and idle time prior to departure.  I, along with a couple of other guys, decided to ride in the patient area of the ambulance and take advantage of the stretcher benches for a nap.  Hayes was driving and another soldier was riding in the passenger seat as we bumped along the rutted trail.  I noticed the trip got a bit smoother after a while; I just figured we were on a main road headed home.  Shortly afterward, we stopped and Hayes yelled back and told us to act like we were sick.  Being the senior medic, I was a bit puzzled and poked my head between the partition and asked why.  Apparently, Hayes had decided to get off the bumpy trail and drive on the smoother road that paralleled us, which was a no go according to base rules.  No tactical vehicles were allowed on the hard road; only service vehicles and foot soldiers were allowed on it.  We had been stopped by an MP, who approached the vehicle and asked for our dispatch papers.  He began by telling Hayes that we were in violation of the base ordinance, when all of a sudden, a soldier in the back with me groaned really loudly.  I poked my head back out again and asked Hayes what the hold up was that my 'patient's' stomach pains were getting worse.  The MP looked at me and asked me what was going on.  I told him that we had a guy who was experiencing some stomach pain and the bumpy road was making it worse on him.  Hayes told him we were trying to get to the clinic, but the MP told him it was closed.  He then gave Hayes directions to another facility and told us to"carry on", and to "just get off the hardball road as quickly as possible".  Hayes had just won some major cool points with me, even if we had just boldly lied to a senior NCO and military policeman.
We caught back up with the convoy and the rest of the trip back to Shipton was uneventful.  It was late when we got back and all of us were dragging along, still stinking from the field.  After our weapons turn in and accountability formation, we were dismissed around 2300 hours.  I borrowed Ace's room to shower and rode back home with Jeremy.  We had to be back at 0530; it would have made more sense to just stay in the barracks, but the lure of my own bed was too much.  I got back to the apartment and Christina was sleeping.  I don't think I stayed awake thirty seconds after I hit the pillow, the wake up was going to be brutal for sure.
Since I couldn't drive a standard transmission vehicle very well, I rode into the battalion with Jeremy.  That meant I had to walk up the hill on Benkendorff Strasse to his apartment complex each day, so part of my PT was already done before I even got to Shipton's gates.  Rather than going home after PT, I used Ace's room to shower and relax before the day started.  One morning, Jeremy and I were running late and went speeding down the roadway past the Kaufhalle toward Shipton when we saw a flash ahead of us.  In Germany, rather than having traffic cops wait for speeders, they position radar cameras along the roadway and when a vehicle speeds past it, the camera snaps a picture of the vehicle and a few days later, a picture and a ticket arrives in the mail.  Jeremy knew that we couldn't slow down in time, so just as the flash caught us, we flipped our middle fingers in the windshield.  Sure enough, a few days later, Corporal Fowler handed Jeremy a picture and ticket from the polezei with our fingers prominently displayed.  The fine wasn't cheap; the equivalent of around 120 US Dollars...but the satisfaction of giving the sneaky camera our salute was priceless.
Christina and I were becoming more and more domesticated.  I really cared for her and the idea of us getting married seemed more logical.  Sure, we had some moments where we didn't get along, but our attraction was far greater.  I had told my family my plans of asking her to marry me, and they naturally were apprehensive about the idea.  They felt I shouldn't have jumped into anything; Jason York definitely gave me a hard time over it.  But, like my decision about joining the Army, I wanted to make a major life choice on my own free will; but their uncertainty still weighed on me.  One weekend, Jeremy and I went to the main PX in Nurnberg and I went ring shopping.  I found a nice engagement ring that wasn't too expensive and bought it for Christina.   It was at this point that the first real crack in the surface began to form.  I was beaming about the ring, and it looked like a great one for Christina.  Jeremy and I stopped by and showed Misty, and she agreed it was a nice ring; that I had done well.  When I got home and built up the nerve to finally pop the question, I gave Christina the ring and anticipated a large hug and tears.  What happened instead dejected me and crushed the moment.
"That's a nice ring, but not what I was really wanting," Christina said as she just casually looked down at the ring.  She even slipped it off and looked closer at it, almost scowling at the shiny object I had hoped she would have seen as something symbolizing my love for her.  I held my tongue as she just laid the ring on the table next to the couch, but inside I was fuming and hurt.  I was pretty sure she knew I was bothered, but never said anything to ease the situation.  After I piddled around with a model kit, I couldn't shake the feelings brewing any longer.  I wanted to avoid a total blow up, because had I opened my mouth and let the words fly out, the things I could have said would have not been pleasant at all.  Oh what I could have said.....Instead, I grabbed my keys and simply uttered I would be back.  I started out walking toward downtown Ansbach to clear my head with no idea where I would end up.
I stopped in the Musik Box and browsed through the CD's, but Christina's words still echoed through me.  Who in the bloody Hell did she think she was? All this talk and prodding about marrying her and she does THIS to me??? I needed a drink or three!!!  I wandered down to Hai Life and ordered a beer.  I didn't recognize anyone in there but it didn't matter.  I drank down the beer, ordered another and set out for the pinball machines.  I don't really know how many beers I drank or how many games of pinball I played, but when I left, I was feeling pretty numb.  As I walked down the narrow streets of Ansbach, I reflected on the past few months and thought about the good times.  Would this just be a set back or a lingering sore spot, I wondered.  I walked down a side street and something caught my eye in the window of a music store; a bright orange sunburst colored Les Paul guitar hanging on the wall.  I stood and stared at the instrument and got lost in the sight of it.  I wanted that guitar and made my mind up that I would save to get it...the random mind of a drunk person is a strange and uncertain thing, indeed.
Eventually, I came back home, but Christina was gone.  She didn't leave a note or anything, but I assumed she had went to her parents' or Oma's house.  My beer buzz was wearing off and I started working on that model kit again.  The apartment was too quiet.  I heard every noise outside and inside and it became unnerving.  Too bad I didn't have more beer.  I fell asleep on the couch sometime, and woke up in the early hours of the morning to find Christina home and sleeping in our bed.  I decided to let the scorn of the day go and focus on trying to make a future for the two of us, regardless of the crack in the surface.  I laid down next to Christina and closed my eyes, hoping for a good dream...a dream for the good times to hopefully come.

     

Chapter 27: One Vision

Working at the Katterbach Clinic had its good and bad days.  The worst part of it all was the monotony that grew after a while.  Sick call and well baby clinic were so routine that we could almost perform the duties blindfolded.  None of the officers or NCO's were 'power trippers' and didn't seem to have an agenda, but Captain Salzman could be authoritative if needed.  One soldier who worked with us named Boudre' always seemed to push the envelope a bit when it came to military bearing and job duties.  He didn't care much for cleaning up the treatment areas and always found a way to sham his way out of it.  On my downtime, I usually hung around with Ludeke and Gains and talked music with them.  I had my bass guitar with me and we always talked about getting a jam together, which would have been a welcomed thing for me.
Christina and I were becoming more of a serious item and spending a lot of time together.  She was starting to ease my uneasiness and presumed assumptions of what she wanted in the relationship.  She spent a lot more time at the barracks with me, much to the dismay of Ace.  Ace was a loner; aside from just a couple of us, he really had no friends.  And he was just fine with it.  Ace was also a very private guy who rarely said anything negative to anyone, but one evening, he told me that he felt that Christina was intruding on his space.  I initially got defensive, but he explained to me that he knew Christina and I needed time to ourselves and couldn't be ourselves with a third person hanging around.  The time had came where I had to put things into a different perspective; to evaluate where I wanted to be.
Late February was a cold time in Germany indeed; bitterly cold.  It would snow occasionally, but no large amounts would fall.  The wind was the worst part of the German winters, but not bad enough for some of us to head over to the hills behind Katterbach's housing area for some sledding.  One of our medics had the keys to the medical storage area and grabbed three or four wooden spinal immobilization boards we used as sleds one night.  Of course, there was some beer involved, and things went well the first few runs down the hill.  Degray went down the slope and fell off his sled and laid in the snow laughing.  A short time later, Rucker came barreling down the hill and hit Degray's arm, knocking him down.  It was classic fun until we noticed Degray rolling around, yelling.  Apparently when Rucker hit Degray, his arm bent backwards and dislocated his elbow.  The evening's fun was over and it was time to play medic.  That's the thing about all of us who were in Shipton; we looked out for one another.  If someone got hurt or had too much to drink, we patched them up or hydrated them.  Many nights, I would get a knock on my door from someone asking for an IV or Motrin.  Once we got back to the barracks, we fixed Degray up the best we could until he could get to sick call the next morning.  Turned out, after x-rays and an exam, Degray's arm was broken along with the dislocation.  And to top it off, we broke two of the immobilization boards...oops.
While Rucker, Donnelly and I were at the clinic working, the battalion was preparing for upcoming field deployments and qualifications, both tactically and physically.  Our battalion had to qualify periodically for what was called the Table X Qualifications, something I never really understood, but it entailed several field deployments.  We were told that later in the year, the battalion would be doing tactical evaluations and other field exercises with NATO organizations.  We, at the clinic, wouldn't be part of these deployments until our rotation was over, but we would have to participate in the battalion's PT test.  We had taken one in Saudi Arabia, but for some reason, headquarters wanted us to take another one, this time in cold weather.  The PT test took place early one morning when the wind was whipping across the field viciously, mixed with sleet.  We did the push-ups and sit-ups in the battalion common area, but the two mile run would be at the old missile storage facility behind Shipton and the launcher area we called the 'Near IRP'.  The weather had deteriorated before we started the run and the wind was brutal, but the regulations stated once the PT test had commenced, it couldn't be halted unless an unsafe condition warranted.  Apparently freezing wind and sleet isn't unsafe.
During the run, people that usually would have been lapping other runners started falling behind. It was a nightmare.  My lungs felt as though they would rip out of my chest as I ran against the force of the wind.  The sleet pelted my exposed skin and I felt I wasn't going anywhere as I ran.  Eventually, it was over and as expected, I failed the run event...by almost a minute.  There were several more who failed, but no one really did well as a whole.  A few days later, I was brought before Captain Taylor with my squad leader, who was now Specialist Smith.  The meeting started off well with Captain Taylor addressing my hair, which hadn't been cut to 'battalion standard'.  It then moved onto the failure of my PT test and how my 'luxury of being at the clinic' was probably a factor.  Granted, there was no structured PT at the clinic and the attitude was far more relaxed, but I really had no excuses.  I was placed on a remedial PT program and had to get a haircut and report back when I was back to standard.  My next meeting with Captain Taylor was a bit better, he didn't yell at me as much but told me to get back into shape or he'd pull me away from the clinic.  Enough said...I'd do better.
Christina and I ventured out into Ansbach to find a place to live.  Being part of a 'ready battalion' meant I had a limited radius from Shipton where I could live.  Army housing was out of the question because we weren't married, but would have been ideal because it was rent free. Until this point, I had only heard about the preconceived notions the locals had about American GI's.  The only time I ever felt uncomfortable in Germany was when I wandered into the Alt Ansbach Club and the music literally stopped because I was an American who infringed on an all German club.  Christina scoured advertisements for rental homes or apartments and we would follow up after duty hours.  Several times, we were flat turned away because of me being an American.  One time, I sat in the car while Christina looked at an apartment with an older lady, who was smiling and being very friendly.  The rent price was very reasonable and the area was close to Shipton's rear IRP.  Things were proceeding well until the lady looked in the car and saw me.  Her smile turned into a scowl and she waved Christina away, telling her something in German that wasn't very pleasant from what I gathered.  For the first time, I felt the sting of ethnic discrimination.  Christina's parents didn't make matters much better with her dad saying things like, "Well, what do you expect," or, "He's about like the Turks. Nobody wants to rent to a soldier or a Turk."  Her mom also piped in saying we weren't ready, which now with hindsight being 20/20, wasn't at all derogatory.   After a discouraging search for a place to rent, the topic of marriage came up.  It had only been just barely three months from the time we even met, but the idea and notion came up.  The fact that we could get military housing if we were married was alluring, but I still was very guarded.  That guard started relaxing more and more and as crazy as it may have sounded,  the idea of nuptials started sounding...okay.  I talked to Jeremy and Misty about it and they were supportive, Harold and Salina were supportive, but told me to be cautious and make sure I was ready.  I didn't want to call home and say anything just yet.
Eventually, Christina and I found an apartment at 26 Benkendorff Strasse, on the south end of Ansbach near Bleidorn and Barton Barracks.  Our landlady was nice and lived below us, and she was not judgmental because I was an American.  The rent was a little steep-the equivalent of 560 dollars per month-but with both our incomes, it was possible.  In early 1994, the ratio of the US Dollar to German mark averaged roughly $1.57, although the ratio fluctuated depending on the market values. It was not exactly the luxury of the $3.75 ratio of the Saudi Riyal, but comfortable.  We couldn't receive the basic allowance for quarters through the military because we weren't married, but we started off managing the financial end of things.  We didn't have to sign a long term lease, which was a blessing considering I roughly had a year left in Germany.  Had we been able to have gotten military housing, I would have had to extend my stay in Germany by another year.
I was becoming more and more confident in my medical skills at the clinic, and occasionally something would happen unexpectedly that would bring a new challenge.  One afternoon, Doctor Haskins was treating patients and suddenly became ill.  He began to sweat profusely and complained of sudden pain in his lower abdomen and left side.  He told us that he had been trying to work through the pain of a kidney stone the past few days but apparently the stone had become lodged.  I established an IV in the doctor's arm and Captain Mitchell administered some pain medications, which caused some nice conversations with Doctor Haskins.
"I feel like my hooter is going to split open," he blurted out loudly, while patients were in the next room.  Everyone chuckled, but occasionally the pain negated the medications and he doubled over in agony.  In this day and age, I'm sure he would have been a hit on Youtube.  Doctor Haskins ended up being transported to Wurzburg Army Hospital that day for surgery, and recovered after a couple of weeks.
Something we now take for granted as an everyday use or even necessity was introduced to us at Katterbach Clinic; the internet.  With the click of a computer mouse, we could interact with clinical and hospital staff all across Germany.  We could communicate within the clinic by electronic mail and pass information along within the departments.  This was a totally new concept, and quite rudimentary in 1994.  Another item I was starting to see more often was the cellular phone.  I had seen a guy at Fort Sam with one and was intrigued by the fact you could talk to someone via phone and be mobile.  Again, this is considered a normalcy in this age, and almost a must have; but in 1994, it was just plain neat and new.  Only a few people had cell phones, or mobile phones as they were known then, usually higher ranking officers had them.  Technology was starting to go into the 21st Century whether we were ready or not.
Now that I was out of the barracks and living in town, my time at the Goose and other usual establishments diminished; mainly due to having to be responsible for once and on a budget.  Not long after getting our apartment, Christina started complaining about her job and how she hated it.  She had told me before that it wasn't a great job, but her complaints increased now that we were on our own.  I told her to do what she felt she needed to, that she could probably get a job on post somewhere...totally thinking that was the plan of action.  One day, she walked into the clinic and announced she had quit her job and was now a 'fucking dependent'.  I told her that it wouldn't be long until she found something else, to not worry; but inside, I was thinking that the reduction in income would impact our rent and other bills.  Things would have to tighten up financially if we were to survive on our own for sure, and the casualty was the social escapades that had brought us together.    Eventually, the only time I ever saw my buddies from the Goose Gang was if I had to report to Shipton for whatever reason.  Christina and I really only stayed at home or would go between her parents' house or up to Jeremy and Misty's place as they lived just up the street.  Occasionally, we would go to Harold and Salina's but not many other places outside those.  It sucked to have to be responsible and not be a carefree party guy like before.
I woke up one day with a headache that felt would split my head wide open.  The transition from winter to spring was happening, so I was sure it was my usual seasonal allergies.  As the day went forward, the pain began to debilitate me and I asked Captain Mitchell to take a look at me.  He said it was just sinus pressure and prescribed some antibiotics and Motrin...The Army had to have had a contract with the makers of that drug as much as it was prescribed.  I went home that day, almost in tears, and laid down.  I kept waking up with the pain pounding in my head and radiating into my right jaw.  It was so bad that I couldn't hold my eyes open and became dizzy and nauseated.  I didn't sleep much that night and decided to report to sick call as an official patient the following day.  Christina drove me to post and I signed the sick call roster, then proceeded to Katterbach.  After being examined again, Captain Mitchell told me that it was the due process of the sinus infection and to give it a few days.  He ordered me as a sick in quarters status, meaning no duty for me.  I went home and tried to sleep again, but was miserable.  I got up the next day and the right side of my face was swollen, the pain was still excruciating.  I went on into the clinic for duty, but it wasn't long until the looks and gawks began.  Captain Mitchell took one look at me and said it was apparent I didn't have a normal sinus infection.  He looked inside my mouth then told me to go upstairs to the dental clinic and check in.  I really didn't know why he had said that, but went regardless. At the dental clinic, an X-ray showed that my wisdom teeth were impacted and one had started coming in through a molar, causing the pain.  The dental surgeon was called and I was set up for a next day surgery, something I wasn't too keen about but if it relieved my agony, I was up for anything.
The next day, the pain was still as bad and I went into the dental clinic with hopes I could be put out and be able to sleep for once.  Instead, the oral surgeon injected lidocaine directly into my gums and the roof of my mouth, creating some of the most intense pain I'd ever experienced to that point.  Eventually, my mouth went numb, but I was wide awake as the dentist began cutting into my gum line.  I could feel the pressure of the instruments as he worked and that was very unnerving.  As he worked on my upper right tooth, there came a point that the dentist took a small chisel device and hammer and began chiseling my upper gum.  He hit a point that hurt and I told him, so he gave another shot of lidocaine into my upper gum just behind the tooth.  There was an intense shock of pain when he did it and I nearly came off the chair.  I was told to relax and settle back in, but my face felt like it was on fire.
After about thirty minutes of the surgeon trying to hammer the tooth out, the lidocaine wore off again.  I told him it was starting to hurt, of which he replied, "I've given you enough medicine. Do you have a substance problem?"  I was taken aback at his assumption, but he said he was about done and I should "suck it up."  After a few more minutes, the dentist, who by now I was convinced was a sadistic impostor, started pulling chunks of tooth out and dropping them into a metal pan.  I was soaked with perspiration and nearly in tears at that point.  The molar had to come out in one piece, but the wisdom tooth came out in five pieces.  The ordeal had taken the most part of an hour...an hour of brutality in my opinion.  After I was cleaned up, the dentist told me that due to the severity of the extraction, I would need to come in at a later time to have the rest of my wisdom teeth taken out.  I think I would have rather braved the headaches than what I had just endured.
Aside from drinking too much and the night at Tivoli Park, I had never been on any kind of narcotic drug until my wisdom tooth was taken out.  I was prescribed Percocet for the pain and given a few ways off duty.  I was also told not to drink alcohol while taking the medication.  I went back to the barracks that day because Christina was elsewhere for some reason and couldn't pick me up right away.  Luckily, Ace let me use his room to rest until Christina could come get me later.  I took my medicine and laid down; my face still throbbing.  It was still early in the day but overcast and cold with snow starting to move in, a great day to just sleep.  Soon, I drifted off and slept a while.  I woke up sometime later, dazed and my head feeling very fuzzy.  It wasn't like a good beer drunk feeling; I felt like I could walk through a brick wall.  For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to go check the mail, so I walked down stairs and outside into the cold and light snow shower. the only problem was I was just wearing my PT sweatpants with no shirt or shoes on.  I walked into the mail room and the clerk just stared at me at first, then blurted out, "Kiss, are you drunk already?".  It was like I knew what was going on but my body and mind were two different beings.  The clerk handed my my mail and I wandered back toward the barracks, still unfazed by the cold.  When Christina picked me up, I was asleep again and the medication was wearing off, not a fun hangover.
I spent the next few days at home, only waking up long enough to change my gauze or try to eat.  My mouth and face was swollen like I had been beaten at the Goose, but the excruciating headache was gone finally.  Christina felt it would be funny to take candid pictures of me while in a Percocet daze or asleep during my recovery, I still don't know what she was trying to prove by doing so.  After about a week, I recovered and felt like a new person.  Apparently the problem had been ongoing for a while and I was just passing the headaches off as sinus problems until it got worse.
I got together with Gaines and Ludeke one evening at the Katterbach Recreational Center and we started jamming some songs as a band.  It was all mainly classic rock material from bands like The Cars, Tom Petty, John Mellencamp and Cheap Trick.  For being only the first time getting together, things sounded pretty tight.  I was surprised we knew all the songs we did.  Gaines was a good singer and a good guitar player, Ludeke was a solid drummer who's inspiration was Neil Peart from Rush.  We decided to get together on Sunday afternoons as often as we could just to see how we progressed.  If we never payed a gig, then it was going to be okay; we were just having fun playing music.  This was better than any drinking binge for me and a good release for any frustrations I may have had.
Things were going well for me all around.  I was feeling confident in my Army skills, was at a good duty assignment, had someone to care for and a place to live for us, and I had my music back.  I knew I was going to be sent back to 6/43 again soon, but I would have a much better vision once I got back to the unit and field. I would have one vision and one goal:  To finally be all I could be, personally and as a soldier.

Chapter 26: Hooked on a Feeling

As I look back and read my previous chapters, I find myself shaking my head on a lot of things I did.  Memories from those times are still clear to me; sometimes too clear.  That being said, the next chapters may make you, the reader, shake your head, too....

The twentieth year of my life was closing out and I was once again back home with family.  The past two holidays had been both special and therapeutic for me.  It was good to get away from all the Army hustle and just be me again with those who mattered the most.  So far on this trip, I had stayed rather low key and avoided the mischief I created the first time; then there was New Year's Eve.  I had been invited to a party at a home belonging to one of the guys on the fire department.  The plan was that I would stay until around 1130 p.m. and I would go home to watch the ball drop with mom as I always had in the past.  Plus, my favorite band KISS was due to perform on the New Year's Rockin' Eve show and I didn't want to miss it.
Dee Dee, Norman and I arrived at Anthony's house somewhere around 830 p.m. and I nearly fell on my face as I got out of the car due to wearing my cowboy boots and the snow still on the ground.  It was bitterly cold that night and I joked that it felt more like Germany than Kentucky.  Several people from the fire department were there already and playing cards and pool.  Almost immediately, the conversation turned to the quality of beer in Germany versus domestic beer.  Then the drinking began.  I started off drinking beer, one right after another.  The difference was uncanny; the domestic beer was much weaker than German beer and easier to drink.  Then someone brought out a mason jar of moonshine.  I drank quite a bit of it too, then some Wild Turkey.  I got drunk rather quickly and by ten, I was having trouble seeing or walking.  The last thing I remember is playing a card game on the pool table.  Sometime after that, I passed out on the table, then fell onto the floor.  I only know this because someone took pictures of me passed out.  It was pretty apparent that I wasn't going to meet mom to watch the new year come in.  I don't know when I woke up, but I had vomited all over the floor next to me and someone had said she worried I had stopped breathing while vomiting and quickly turned me to the side; possibly saving my life.  It was after midnight by the time I woke up and KISS was already on the TV performing.  I can barely remember seeing them and trying to sing along.  Dee Dee had called mom to tell her I was playing cards and winning so I would be late getting home.  I'm sure she probably knew what was going on.  I escaped the reaper yet again that night; how many more times? I wondered.
The first day of 1994 was spent recovering.  I had done so well since I came back from the Gulf, but this episode was a recanting of the pre-deployment Green Goose days.  The hangover was almost as bad as the one I had the first time I was home and I was sick as a dog all day.  Mom and dad chided me about it, asking when I would learn my lesson and grow up.  I didn't have an answer to that question.  In fact, I liked how I felt when I was buzzed...entirely too much.  It was still snowy out, but didn't seem as cold, but I stayed in all day.  I picked up my bass guitar and played along with some tapes; I missed playing music often.  A few days later, mom and I went to see my grandmother at the nursing home.  She had been there since 1987 when she lost a leg due to diabetes related infections.  Granny's health had been slipping further and further away as she aged and her mind was being eroded by Parkinson's and Alzheimer's diseases.  The last time I saw her, just a year earlier, she had called me by my uncle's name.  This visit was different.  Mom had told me that granny's condition was deteriorating rapidly, and I could see it on the video that was sent to me that it was bad.  My grandmother would lay in her bed and just yell out periodically; not a yell of pain, just a sound.  Her hands constantly shook and she looked so frail.  My granny was such a strong willed and headstrong woman and could sometimes be rather mean, and now, she seemed so helpless and was dependent for everything she needed.  Mom was used to seeing her like this, but for me, it was almost overwhelming.  I gave my granny a kiss on the forehead when we got ready to leave and patted her hand.  She grasped my hand and squeezed it, looking at me for a long moment.  And then mom and I left.  The ride back home was a quiet one and somewhere inside, I knew this would be the last time I would spend with her.
My time home was starting to come to a close and the weather still wasn't very good.  It was probably best the weather wasn't as it was the first time I visited, because I got to do what I wanted; to be close to my family for once.  When the day came to go back to the airport, it had warmed up some and started to rain.  I had called Christina and told her my flight itinerary and when to expect me back in Nurnberg; she seemed generally happy that I was coming back, so that was a good sign.  As I boarded the plane in Lexington,  I said my goodbyes, but they weren't as sad this time.  I felt satisfied that I had spent as much time as I could with who mattered. I took my guitar with me this trip back, so at least I would have some home association.
The flight was the usual long and grueling trip, but I slept nearly all the way.  I had my Walkman on while asleep and was briskly awakened by a flight attendant asking if I wanted anything to eat.  I wasn't hungry and declined, then fell off to sleep again.  Shortly after, another attendant woke me and asked the same, and seemed a bit more aggravated that I declined.  I woke up again to find a plate of food sitting on the pull out tray in front of me; I guess while I was asleep, they went ahead and decided I needed to be fed.
We landed in Nurnberg and for once, there was no snow on the ground.  I wasn't in military uniform and while I had been home I grew a goatee, so I looked quite different I'm sure as I stepped off the plane.  Christina greeted me at the arrival gate with a big hug and kiss, she hadn't forgotten me.  We drove back to Ansbach and talked about my trip home the whole way back.  She seemed fascinated with me telling how life in the U.S. was.  Christina also said that she wanted me to meet her family and told me her dad was a very strict man who liked to intimidate people.  Not exactly the kind of person I wanted to meet, but I would probably have to if this relationship was going any further.
We arrived back in Shipton later in the day, the time difference was starting to take a toll on me this time.  I was very tired, but wanted to stay awake to make the best of my company.  Once I got upstairs to the room, Ace was doing his usual routine of nothing but watching football games.  I still technically had 24 hours of leave left, but thought if I didn't go sign in, I would forget to do so.  Without thinking, I reported to Battalion Headquarters still in my old Led Zeppelin shirt, jeans and full goatee.  I presented my paperwork to the duty NCO and he stood up, giving me a full all around look.
"Soldier, what do you mean by coming into my office, reporting off leave, looking like a bum," he barked at me.  I snapped to attention and the sergeant took my hat off, telling me that my hair was a disgrace.  After being back home in the civilian setting, this snap back into military bearing jolted me a bit.  I told the sergeant that I would have it all fixed as soon as possible and he told me once I did, to report back and he would accept my return paperwork.  The problem with that was the barber shop on post was closed due to it being a weekend.  I returned to my room and shaved, then found someone in the barracks to cut my hair.  The haircut wasn't by any means what I liked and was much shorter than I usually kept it, but after the run in with the duty NCO, I wasn't going to complain.  After a return trip inspection, the sergeant accepted my paperwork and I was officially back with 6th Battalion, 43rd Air Defense Artillery...back in the Army grind.
The aid station was back in full operation soon after my leave ended.  All inventory was completed and medical records sent back to Katterbach, so there was some downtime during January, 1994.  Field assignments were being revamped because of the new medics that had arrived; the new ones were being paired with the more seasoned medics.  According to SFC Bechtel, I was included in the seasoned medic category, although I hadn't thought of being.  Promotion boards were approaching for the soldiers who were specialists promotable to the sergeant rank.  For the rest of us, we were being evaluated for promotion from private up to specialist ranks.  My evaluation was not entirely charming, in fact, it was almost scathing.  "Not initiative oriented.  Low motivation.  Needs to be driven to complete tasks."  At the bottom, the recommendation for promotion was denied.  At the time, I was floored by what I read.  Looking back, it wasn't far from the truth.  I took that evaluation to heart after the initial shock wore off and vowed to do better. First thing was to fix about me was the binge drinking; I had to get a hold on that.  The New Year's Eve party scared me a bit, plus I had someone to maybe keep me grounded somewhat.  But the lure of a good night at the Goose or a barracks party was always inviting.
Around February, I was selected with Rucker and Donnelly to work at the clinic in Katterbach for the 90 day rotation I had hoped to be part of.  We would be exempt from field deployments and other unit activities while attached to the 526th Medical Detachment.  I was excited that I would continue working in the clinical realm rather than freezing in a tent somewhere.  Plus, it would provide me with a confidence boost in my skills from the time at Khobar Clinic.  We reported to the clinic every morning at 0645, which meant we were exempt from PT at Shipton.  Usually a bus ran to Katterbach  around 0600 so Rucker and I would ride over on it.  Donnelly lived in military housing at Katterbach so she just met us there.
The first couple of weeks were devoted to orientation and training.  There were two more medics from other units with us, neither had been deployed anywhere yet.  The clinic staff was a mix of military and civilian personnel, the commanding officer was Captain Salzman.  There was a radiology department, lab, emergency room and outpatient clinical rooms in the building.  Other than the krankenhaus in downtown Ansbach, this was the only medical facility in the immediate area.  After orientation we started being assigned in different areas each day; one day we would be in the main clinical area, another in sick call, or taking care of well baby visits.  There was always something to do at the clinic and the staff were great in teaching us new techniques of medical care.
Our duty days ended at 1700 hours and by the time we got back to Shipton, everyone was already gone or getting ready to head somewhere off post.   Christina worked for a engineering firm and did technical drawing and blueprints for them, so she didn't get to the barracks until after 1800 hours.  After a while, Christina started hinting around about wanting our relationship to progress, to move in together.  I hesitated at first, I wasn't entirely sure she and I would work.  I was hooked on a feeling more than anything at that point; a feeling that things were going good, but was I actually hooked on her?  A kind of shitty way to think about a person that I professed to care for, but it was all about the feeling in the moment, not a lot else.

Christina and me, early 1994

I went with Christina to meet her family one evening and was very nervous.  She told me that her mother, Heidi, worked at the Post Exchange at Illesheim Airfield and her dad, Gunther, was the post master in Illesheim.  She had a younger sister, Nicole, living at home and her grandmother, whom I only knew only as Oma, lived close by.  I was reminded that her dad was very stern and strict, especially when it came to American GI's.  The Markert family lived in a four-plex house on the outskirts of Burgbernheim.  As we drove through the town, it was neatly preserved in the Renaissance look.  A lot of the buildings in the main district dated from the 1500-1600's and were built in traditional Bavarian form.  The church, which dominated a large knoll in town, was built in the 1100's but had been remodeled over and over through the years.  It was a fascinating small town, but densely populated for its size.
I sat on the couch in the Markert household, nervously awaiting the impeding meeting about to take place.  Heidi came in first and shook my hand; she seemed pleasant and looked at Christina and said something in German, smiled and walked away.  My German language skills at this time weren't very good; in fact I could only speak or understand basic terms like asking directions or expressing gratitude.  Nicole came in and sat in the chair, staring at us.  An occasional giddy teenager smile would cross her face, but it seemed like she was trying to figure out if I was human or not.  Christina had given me a photo album and I was looking through it when all of a sudden, something caught my peripheral vision.
"Do you know what this is," a deep booming voice asked.  I looked up to see the barrel of a .357 Magnum pistol staring down on me.  I looked up and said, "a .357 Magnum with what looks like hollow points loaded."  Gunther laughed and lowered the weapon, saying, "well, good deal, you passed the first test."  New shorts, anyone?  I stood up to shake his hand and he gave a strong, firm grip, then turned around and poured two shot glasses of what looked like vodka.  He handed me the glass and toasted a welcome.  I turned the drink up and the burn immediately started; this was not vodka.  I must have winced, causing a laugh.
"You passed the next test. You didn't puke," Gunther laughed.  The drink was 'Slovakian Schnapps', he called it, a very potent drink that he demonstrated could be lit on fire.  Much more of that, and I would have to either have to be carried back to Shipton or my stomach pumped, or both.  The home was a small place; it had a living room area, three bedrooms, small kitchen and a bathroom.  Nicole's room was probably the most interesting.  She had a large cage in her room the housed a ferret and chinchilla, along with a couple of rabbits in a cage.  Other than the zoo, the room was a typical fourteen year old girl's room with posters of the current popular people displayed everywhere.  After a lengthy stay, we drove over to Oma's house.  Her home was in the heart of Burgebernheim and was in an older district.  Across from her home was a large barn and the smell of cattle was very prominent in the area.  Oma didn't speak any English and was an elderly woman who seemed very kind hearted.  Our meeting was brief because of the late hour, but as we left she took my hand and patted it, telling Christina something in German that I again didn't understand.
The visit wasn't too bad, other than the gun incident.  I asked Christina on the drive back what they had said, she just smiled and said they liked me.  She brought up the idea of moving in together once more, and I still hesitated.  She became defensive and questioned if I really liked her or was just playing on her emotions.  Of course I cared for her; plus who did she think she was asking me that? That thought ran through my head but not out of my mouth.  I tried to explain that I had been through some rough times within the past year on a personal level, but Christina was still pretty upset.  We ended the night with her still being upset and saying something along the lines of, "when you figure things out, call me."  I in turn was upset at her attitude and what I perceived as being pushy.
The following day, I was at the clinic working and Christina came in to see me.  She apologized to me and said she hadn't slept well because of our argument.  I actually hadn't slept well either, but I didn't want her to know.  After she left, Rucker and Donnelly asked if Christina was my new girlfriend.  I replied that she kind of was, and they chided me because I didn't introduce them.  Kind of. That was a lame way to put that she was my girlfriend, and was probably me subconsciously trying to rationalize my feelings.
Clinic duty was running smoothly.  I had made some new friends there, Corporal Gaines and Specialist Ludeke were both musicians and we hit it off well.  My favorite part of the clinic was the treatment area.  I worked under Major Hoskins and Captain Mitchell who were pretty laid back about things.  Captain Mitchell reminded me of Lieutenant Balser with his demeanor and humor.  In the treatment area, we had a few people come in during sick call hours with run of the mill ailments, some looking for nothing more than a day off from duty.  After sick call, unless there were patients in the treatment area, we worked in other areas, so there was always something to do.  Being the only medical facility in the area, we saw several soldiers come in from nearby training areas or aviation hangers that had minor injuries.  Usually, we did nothing more than patch them up and send them on their way, but occasionally, we needed to stitch someone's cuts.  I learned how to do stitches and became 'suture certified', which meant I could do them without direct supervision.  I also learned how to work in the lab, doing blood draws and running simple blood tests; things I didn't get a chance to do at Khobar.  I also became very proficient in doing the well baby clinic duties.  Every Tuesday and Thursday, children from newborn up to 18 months old would come in for their vaccinations and check ups.  We measured their weight, length and head circumferences, as well as checking their vaccination records and administering them when needed.  Easier said than done.  Giving adults a vaccination is pretty routine, aside from the ISG vaccination that went bad in Saudi.  Children, however, are a different story...babies especially.   Babies tend to move around a lot and when they get vaccinations, they are given in the thigh.  A lot of babies had the legs of marathon runners, I'm truly convinced.  It took a couple of people to secure their legs many times, and I know these kids that were older must have had my face burned as an image in their minds. 
As the weeks passed by, a steady routine had developed that provided some stability in my life for once.  I didn't pass my time getting hammered like I had before; I stayed occupied.  Christina and I grew closer and I became more confident in my medical skills.  I still had my buddies and closest friends in the barracks, but didn't spend as much time with them as before.  Harold, Smith, Rucker and Petty were probably the ones I was closest to, but the guys in Bravo Battery were right there with me, too.  That's one thing about sweating it out in a bunker on a remote desert tactical site; it brings everyone a bit closer because we all had each others' back.  Plus, I was their 'doc' and took care of them in the field, so they had a level of trust in me.  I remember talking to Petty one night about Christina and he told me that I shouldn't jump into anything.  He said she was a German girl looking for a free ride and I should be cautious.  Of course I got defensive, but in the back of my mind I wondered if Alan knew something about her I didn't.  Some German girls had a reputation as being 'green card seekers' and whores that slept with any GI that would have them.  I hoped that what Petty said was only a form of brotherly precaution, however blunt it may have been.  I passed it off as nothing more than him being overly cautious and let it go.   It was true that I was hooked on a feeling, more precisely a feeling of in the moment, but I felt that I had something I had been looking for...a stable, and sober, frame of mind.

Chapter 25: Homebound

The barracks can be a place of solitude, a place to hide, or in some cases, a holding cell.  I was glad to be back in Germany; back in Shipton away from the desert heat and those who wanted to harm us.  It was the confinement that made me crazy inside.  I started unpacking my bag I had carried with me about the time the staff duty NCO came around to break the seals on our lockers.  He had our inventory sheets in hand and had to confirm that the serial numbers on the locker seals matched and had not been tampered with.  When the seal was broken, it was almost like I should have heard a whoosh of air or something.  I had three uniforms hanging in it, a few personal items, but that was about all.  Everything else, including CD's tapes, and even my portable stereo, were either stashed away in the mail building or on that plane lost in Turkey.  Ace had his TV and some video tapes, so all wasn't totally lost.  After a quick check of everything on my inventory list, the staff duty NCO left for the next room.
The day dragged on it seemed.  I reported to the aid station with the rest of the medics and noticed there were some unfamiliar faces among us.  These were either newbies or some that had been transferred to us from other units that had been downsized.  Downsizing was going on all across Europe;  Army units that were garrisoned in Germany and surrounding areas for Cold War duty assignments were being deactivated and their personnel were being dispersed among other units or sent stateside.  Most soldiers who had been in longer and nearing retirement took the early out option.  The process started just before our deployment and we had some of the new soldiers end up with us in Dhahran or Riyadh; but for the most part, the others were rear detachment while we were deployed.  For the ones of us who came to Shipton Kaserne that snowy day just nine months earlier, we felt like seasoned veterans.  Martinez, Donnelly, Arms and a couple others who had been at Shipton before I got there were still with us for a while, so I know they must have felt seasoned.  We made some small talk, but it was obvious that our attention was elsewhere...somewhere other than Shipton.
After several hours, we had another formation.  It was around 1800 hours or so and everyone had confinement fever.  The lost weapon had been recovered, thankfully, and was in transit back to post.  One problem solved.  The other issue was the lost luggage that had still not been located.  It didn't matter; once we got the all clear, I was Goose bound with the posse.  The sky was darkening and the air was bitterly cold; a far contrast to just twenty-four hours earlier.  Walking was probably out of the question.  I need to find a ride to the Goose. Who would be there?  Would Moni be waiting for me?  If she wasn't, what then?  All these thoughts ran through my head as the commander gave us the usual safety briefing.  When the commander gave the call, "platoon sergeants, take charge of your platoons," the anticipation nearly boiled over.  We were dismissed and all of us let out a thunderous shout.  We ran into the barracks and nearly ran each other down as we hit the stairwells.  I changed clothes quickly and ran down to the shopette, only to be greeted by a line a mile long.  The beer cooler was nearly sold out by the time I got to it, but I was able to score a six pack of beer to start the night off. 
I went back upstairs, opened the first beer and savored it.  Ace was laying on his bunk watching sports on TV while I prepared for the Goose adventure.  I asked if he was going out, but he said he wanted to just stay in.  Apparently, not much had changed with Ace since August.  He was still a slouch.  I drank two more beers and walked down the hallway to meet with the other guys.  No one was available to drive us, so the command decision was made to foot it to the Goose, no matter if hypothermia set in on us.  I carried my remaining beers with me as we, the motley crew we were, exited the rear gate.  Gosh, it felt good to be back, even though I had kinda despised the place before we deployed.  At least the only threat we had at Shipton were the rabbits or farmer Herman's sheep...or the concoction of human and animal waste fertilizer spread on the field outside the perimeter.
We arrived at the Goose with grandeur, well, at least in our minds it was grand.  The place was packed with people; many of the guys from the battalion had already arrived by the time the posse had arrived.  Shouts of welcome back rang out and rounds of drinks were ordered by the guys already there soon after our arrival.  I immediately looked for Moni and Mary.  I thought they would surely be there waiting somewhere.  I wound my way through the mass of people to the DJ booth, which was in the back center of the room and gave a fairly good view of the place.  The music was pounding techno music and the lights were mesmerizing. The crowd on the dance floor seemed transfixed on the beat and beams of light that pierced the hazy room.  I looked carefully over the room, but still no sign of Moni.  The patio was closed due to the weather, so I knew she wasn't outside.  I looked at my watch and it was only 2100 hours; still early in the Goose time zone.
After a while, I found the posse and we began to hammer down some alcohol.  I got buzzed very quickly because all that time sober killed my usually high tolerance.  The Goose was just as it was before we left; packed far beyond capacity with hot headed, drunken soldiers and pretty young German girls.  Eventually, the inevitable brawl started and spilled out into the parking lot.  For once, I didn't follow the mob as they rolled out the front door.
We all continued to drink as the night grew on, but I was getting hammered quick.  I slowed it down a bit and looked around again for Moni, with no such luck.   I felt hurt and angry at the same time, so I started slamming drinks again in rapid succession.  I started to feel sick after a while, so I slowed down again.  I remember walking around and seeing a lot of people who I used to see at the HHB parties.  They all seemed to remember me for the most part.  I walked up to a group of people whom I recognized and saw a girl I had seen and blurted out, "hey, I know you!".  The girl was shorter than me and had jet black hair.  She just smiled and replied, "do you now?".   Before long, the two of us started chatting it up and dancing together.  I still looked around to see if Moni was anywhere in the building, but she hadn't showed up.  It was well known when we would be back from Saudi, everyone seemed to know, from the German locals to the Katterbach guys.  Moni should have known when I would be back, and I had even written her one last letter a couple of weeks or so before I left Khobar telling her when I was expected to be back.  I kind of figured this would happen, or I'd see her with another guy.  All the well, I seemed to enjoy present company.
The girl I was talking to was named Christina.  She had been to the parties at the barracks a few times, and I had seen her at the Goose.  I actually knew her friends, Cindy and Tanja more than I did her, but I hadn't forgot seeing her.  She was, as I said, a bit shorter than me, a little heavy set but not obese and not too bad looking.  We talked all night, and I'm sure I spilled my guts about my frustration with Moni and how the deployment had went.  When it came time to go, I gave her a hug and told her I'd see her around again.  When we walked outside, the air was absolutely frigid and being that I was sweaty from being inside the Goose, it was brutal.  German winters are notoriously cold.  I started walking toward the back road to Shipton, hunkered down to shield myself from the cold wind.  Christina pulled up next to me and yelled for me to get in.  The passenger door opened and Tanja was sitting in the seat, so I just spilled in on her lap.  Christina drove off into town and I told her I wanted to stop at Hai Life, that she could go on if she needed to.  We stopped and Hai Life wasn't too packed, in fact, it was quite dead.  I made a round to see if I knew anyone and left quickly afterward.  That fiberglass shark was still hanging on the ceiling...one day, shark...one day.
Christina, Tanja and I packed back into the little white Volkswagon Rabbit and headed out once again.  Christina had already promised to take Tanja home, so I was along for the ride.  I was feeling a good buzz still and as we whizzed down the road, the trees blurred outside the window, intensifying the buzz.  I hadn't drank myself into total oblivion as I normally would have.  I guess it was where I had to pace myself to keep from vomiting everywhere and ruining a good night.  Or maybe it was because I had hoped Moni would show up and I didn't want to be blitzed when I saw her.  Oh well, whatever the reason, I was okay with it.
We took Tanja to her home somewhere outside Ansbach, and I had to get out to let her exit the back seat.  As she got ready to leave, I just grabbed her and kissed her, don't know why, but I did.  She told Christina to "be careful" and disappeared into the house.  It was nearly three in the morning, my buzz was starting to wear off a bit, and I was tired.
"Where the crap are we," I asked Christina.  She told me, but I had no clue where we were to be quite honest.  I asked her where she lived and she told me a town called Burgbernheim, which was about 20 minutes or so from Ansbach; in the opposite direction we were at presently.  I told her that she just needed to stay in the barracks rather than drive back as late as it was, that I'd sleep in the floor.  We got to the barracks around 0330 and Christina left her ID card at the front gate.  I really didn't think she would go into the barracks with me, but she did.  There were a few guys milling around in the hallways still drinking, but I was worn out.  We got into the room and Ace was snoring away, quite loudly, too. We laughed at him and made snippy remarks about his bodily functions as he slept; unconscious flatulence I called it.  Christina laid down in the bed and I prepared to sleep on the floor next to the bunk.  She laughed and told me to get off the floor, that she wasn't going to rape me or anything.  I crawled into the bed and before I knew it, we were making out.  There was an attraction between us, but I still felt bad because of Moni.  Eventually, we fell asleep before daylight.
We woke up sometime late the next morning, my head was still a bit fuzzy from the night's buzz.  Christina was lying there smiling and there was a moment between us.  I don't know how to describe it, but we just visually connected.  Ace groaned loudly and broke the moment, causing us to laugh.  He rose up and was just in his underwear and quickly said, "oh crap, oh, oh! I didn't know you brought someone home!".  He was clearly embarrassed and we were clearly amused at the sight.  I threw the blankets over Christina and my head and we laughed out loud.
"Go ahead, man, go on and get up," I quipped.  I could hear Ace scrambling around and mumbling to himself, in apparent disgust in his embarrassment.   Then, I got a bit concerned.  What if Moni came by for a surprise visit? We had to get up and get going; well, Christina needed to get going I thought.  I told her I had to get stuff ready for the next duty day and was still adjusting to being back in garrison.  A not so subtle way of saying, "yeah, you need to get outta here before you know who shows up".  Christina agreed that she should go and said she needed to get back to Burgbernheim, quite possibly picking up on my uneasiness.  I walked her down to her car, hugged and kissed her.  I told her that I enjoyed her company and that I hoped to see her again sometime.  My God, what was I doing? I still technically had a girlfriend!  I dismissed any thoughts of guilt, mainly because of that connection we had made.  I still can't describe what it was, but it was there.  Plus, I was starting to get a little mad about the whole Moni thing anyway.
It was Sunday and I had felt like the past thirty-six hours had been a week long.  There wasn't much of a time difference, so jet lag wasn't a factor.  It was the return trip and the long night at the Goose that finally came crashing down on me.  I spent the afternoon washing what little clothes I had and preparing a uniform for the next day.  When I got my desert uniform out of the dryer, I held it up and looked at it.  A realization came to me while looking at that tan and brown uniform; I had grown so much as a medic and had done so many things the past year and three months.  I pressed and placed the uniform on a hangar, ready to store it away for later viewing.  Later, I went to the mail room and there were boxes lined up neatly along the walls with numbers on them.  I opened my mailbox and there was a slip of paper with numbers written on them that corresponded with the numbers on the boxes.  I found my boxes, which contained my stereo, CD's, tapes and some other items.  I was glad to see them, but still concerned about my other bag that was long lost.  I had some of my favorite concert shirts from back home in that big green bag, along with my jeans and favorite pair of boots. 
The first post deployment Monday morning wake up was as it always had been in Shipton; 0530 in PT formation for our Monday Motivational Run.  It was frigid out and my body was still not acclimated to the sudden change.  The run was three miles and the crisp air burned my lungs, but unlike before, there wasn't a hang over lingering.  The run actually felt good once I got into it.  Maybe I'd slow the drinking down a bit, I felt good for once during PT.  I had been sober for four months, with the night back being the exception.  I hadn't got wasted in Bahrain and had ample opportunity to do so.  Maybe I would turn a new leaf and behave. Maybe.
We had filled out paperwork prior to leaving Saudi for our block leave for Christmas.  I had accumulated almost a full three weeks of leave, but was only allowed to take two weeks due to the other soldiers' leave schedules.  I found out that my leave was approved and I was ecstatic. I would be home for Christmas!   I hadn't told anyone at home I was indeed coming home since I didn't really know for sure.  I called home as soon as I could and told mom the news, but I didn't want her to make a big deal of it or tell a bunch of people; I wanted to just show up and surprise everyone.  It had been a year since I was back home and I had so much to tell everyone.  My leave would begin on December 18, and I would have to return no later than January 3.  They allowed two days grace period for overseas travel because of the time differences.  I went to the travel company in Katterbach and Micheala was my travel agent.  I hadn't seen her but maybe once or twice since the Metallica concert but she hadn't changed at all.  Travel tickets and vouchers in hand, I was ready for the next week to end. Only problem, the lingering elephant in the room, I still didn't have my clothes or bag.  That finally changed the next day or two when we were notified that some of our bags had been recovered and returned to the battalion.  We reported to the motor pool to retrieve our belongings and there was a pile of green bags in the floor; not neatly organized like our other packages.  I found my bag finally and it had holes scuffed in it and what looked like pieces of asphalt embedded in it.  For the most part, everyone got their bags back, with only a few exceptions.  We were told the plane loaded with the bags was trying to make an emergency landing and hit the runway hard, skidding off into the ground.  My bag smelled like diesel fuel and there was a stain on the side.  Aside from the holes, it was intact.  I just wondered how my clothes looked after the condition the bag was in.  Once I got to my room and opened the bag up, I noticed some of my clothing was damp, and only one shirt smelled of the diesel fuel.  Everything would have to be washed and rewashed but I got it all back.
During my off duty time, Christina was starting to come around more and more.  I told her about Moni, but she still kept visiting.  It was beside the point that almost a week had went by and still no word from Moni.  To me, that meant she wasn't interested in me any more.  Then, it happened.  Christina was at my room and we were watching a movie with Ace when there was a knock on the door.  Call it intuition, karma, or just plain expectation, but I knew it was Moni.  Ace opened the door and closed it almost immediately and shot me a stare or pure bewilderment.  I was already almost to the door and eased it open enough to slide out into the hallway.  Moni and Mary was standing there and my blood went cold.  I told them we should go to the kitchen area and talk.
Moni hugged me and said, "I'm here," with no further explanation of why it had taken so long to come see me.
"Where were you," I asked.  She turned to Mary, and Mary translated my question into German.
"I'm here now," was Moni's reply.  I don't know if she didn't understand my question or what was going on.  Before I left for Saudi, she seemed to understand English pretty well, but now, she was using Mary to translate for her.  I had so many things I wanted to say; about how angry I was at her, how disappointed I was, how confused I was over all this.  All I could muster out was that I had moved on.  Mary shot me a look to kill when I said that.  Moni stood there looking like nothing had been said.  I looked at Mary and told her, "tell Moni that I moved on.  I hadn't heard from her, and I have been back for a few days now. I'm sorry."  Mary told Moni what I had said, well, at least I think she translated, and the expression on Moni's face drastically changed.  Mary grabbed Moni by the arm and they left.  I felt relieved, but also bad about the situation.  I walked back to the room and sat down next to Christina.  I told her what had happened and that I needed to process it all.  She left, a bit upset at me, but I needed to filter through the thoughts in my head. 
The days before my leave were somewhat busy.  We had to get things back in order as far as equipment turn in and medical records returned to the 526th Medical Detachment.  In addition to that, we had to get everything cleaned and inspection ready.  Some people had already started their leaves, so not much more activity was going on throughout the battalion.  There were no field exercises scheduled until after the new year, and starting in late January or early February, some of us would be going to work at the 526th for a 90 day rotation.  This meant clinic duty, and exemption from the field.  I hoped I would be one of those selected after I got back from leave.   During the day, we did the usual PMCS of our vehicles, which stayed parked for the most part.  We drove them around the battalion from time to time to keep the tires from becoming flat spotted. The aid station wasn't really disorganized due to the rear detachment soldiers taking care of it. On my nights off, I stayed away from the Goose, mainly because I didn't want to deal with the personal drama that may have presented itself.  I noticed that the guys who usually had the big barracks parties or practically lived at the Goose were lying low.  Maybe the Saudi deployment made us grow up a little bit? Who knows.

A traditional German Christmas Pyramid

Christina and I started seeing more of each other, she came by the barracks every night and we would sometimes go into town and walk around.  Ansbach was preparing for the Christmas holidays, or what is called Weihnachten.  The open market place was transformed into a large Christmas themed market called  Christkindlmarkt and was astounding to see.  Vendors sold crafts ranging from grandfather clocks to small ornaments.  There was plenty of candy floating around the market.  On one trip to the market, I decided I wanted to buy mom something traditional, like a clock or other craft.  The clocks were beautifully hand carved and quite pricey.  I had thought about a grandfather clock, but the shipping cost would be more than the clock itself; plus, it was a good chance that the clock would have been damaged in transit.  After the ordeal with my bags from Saudi, I didn't feel real comfortable with shipping anything at all.  I found a type of wooden, tiered windmill with intricately carved figurines on each level inside it.  It was called a candle carousel, or a Christmas Pyramid and was very unique.  I had never seen one of these ornaments and it was small enough I could bring it with me on the trip home.  Christina and I walked around the market and took in the feeling of the evening.  I was still leery of becoming attached to someone, especially after Kim and Moni, but something just felt right about the moment.
My leave was starting to get closer and Christina volunteered to drive me to the airport in Nurnberg.  I had an early flight, which meant we would have to get on the road by 0400 to make check-in.  The days prior, I packed my bags and prepared for the trip home.  packing bags had become a routine task by this time.  It seemed I was always packing bags to be on the move.  There was a certain way to pack ruck sacks and our big green duffel bags to optimize the most items to be placed in them.  Even now when I pack to go somewhere, I find myself rolling my socks and underwear.  I called home the day before I left for the States to let mom know what my flight plan was going to be so they could arrange my pickup.  I was going to leave Nurnberg, stop over in Frankfurt, then to Louisville and finally to Lexington.  At least I didn't have to deal with Atlanta airport; I always disliked flying in there.  The night before I left, Christina stayed at the barracks with me so we could leave straight from Shipton.  I gave her my parents' phone number just in case she wanted to call me while I was back home.  We got up around 0330 and started loading the car.  Overnight, a steady snow had started to fall and the air was bitterly cold.  I was glad to see the snow when we got off the plane from Saudi, but by now, the cold and snow had outstayed its welcome in my opinion.
We trekked to Nurnberg and in many places, the roadway was covered in snow.  Back home, people would crawl at a snail's pace, but not Christina.  We sped on down the road.  I guess when you are accustomed to  weather like this, it's no big deal.  We stopped off at a gas station somewhere between Ansbach and Nurnberg and it started snowing harder.  I asked Christina if she thought the flight would be delayed, she said she doubted it.  I was due to fly out at around 0830, so by her calculations, we would be at the airport by 0615 or so; plenty of time to check in baggage and relax a bit.  We arrived at the Nurnberg Flugplatz and I started unloading my bags.  After check-in, there was some down time, so Christina and I walked to the shopping area and grabbed a quick bite to eat.  I remember saying something along the lines of "well, are you going to forget about me too after a couple of weeks" which resulted in a quite angry look from her.  It was mostly a joke, but had some truth to it.  Finally, it was time for me to go to the terminal gate.  I hugged and kissed Christina and told her I would call her when I got settled in at home.  Then I said, again, jokingly, "and are you going to be here to pick me up in a couple of weeks?".  Yeah, I had to dig that dagger in just a bit more for sick and twisted humor's sake. 
The flight to Frankfurt was short, and I didn't have to change planes, so I fell asleep while waiting.  I was awakened by someone sitting beside me.  He was a large framed black man in civilian clothes and he looked at me, nodded, and said, "hello private".  I was in my Class A uniform, so it wasn't too hard to figure out I was a soldier.  The plane took off and headed west toward the Atlantic and I eased back in my seat.  Air travel was starting to be a bit more routine for me by this time; my anxiety wasn't near as bad.  During the flight, the man next to me asked where I was headed and what unit I was part of.  He said he was also in the Army and had been in Germany for three years, and was going home to St. Louis for leave.  We chatted for a while, then when the stewardess came by, he ordered the two of us a small bottle of Jack Daniels.  We toasted the Army and "being all we can be" and drank the whiskey down. 
The flight was uneventful, and I slept most of the way across the Atlantic.  I woke up while we were about 300 miles from Newfoundland according to the map on the screen.  Everything with the flight was going as scheduled, with just a minor delay in our expected arrival time.  When we entered North American airspace, I let out a silent sigh of relief.  I was almost on the home stretch again...Homebound. A few hours later, we were in Kentucky, descending into Louisville.  It was starting to get dark out as we landed.  The man next to me said good luck and it was good talking to me as he started to exit.  He shook my hand as he stood up and said, "private, keep your head up and do good things. Who knows, fifteen years from now, you can be a first sergeant like me".  I sat on the plane and waited anxiously for the short hop to Lexington.  The flight was running about twenty minutes behind schedule and it had started raining.  After several more minutes, we were cleared to take off.  I was excited and nervous about coming back home.  As we were in the air, the pilot told us that the rain was starting to change over to sleet and freezing rain, and our arrival into Bluegrass Airport would be within twenty minutes. Like the other time I flew from Louisville to Lexington, the plane didn't get too high in the air.  The lights below were plainly visible in the dark, and a glisten of slushy moisture was starting to accumulate on the plane's window.  Before I knew it, we started our approach into Bluegrass Airport.  The plane touched down and seemed to accelerate some before it slowed.  The runway was wet and I could see the precipitation had increased as we made the turn toward the gate.  I was on home soil, just forty miles more to go.
I walked down the gangway to the door, mom, dad, Dee Dee, Norman and Casey were waiting for me.  It was so good to see them again.  I was worn out from the trip and it was getting late, plus the weather was starting to deteriorate rapidly.  We piled into the car and headed to Owingsville, local time was around 8 p.m.  Mom told me that she hadn't said anything to anybody about my leave, but wanted to play a prank on my cousins Jason and Matthew.  The ruse was that she would call and say they had received a package and needed to come pick it up.  The road trip was interesting; sleet and freezing rain pelted down on the car's windshield as dad drove cautiously.  I couldn't help but laugh because Christina had driven so normally on the snow covered road to Nurnberg.  I hadn't really said anything about Christina to anyone at home because it had been so soon and things were so hectic at Shipton.  I wasn't quite sure I wanted to tell them I was starting to get involved with someone else just yet; plus I didn't know if I even wanted to get involved with someone again.
We arrived in Owingsville just as the sleet tapered off a bit.  I dropped my bags in my old bedroom, which was still pretty much as I had left it, although now mom and dad were using it to store things.  Mom called Ruth and set up the ruse for Jason and Matt.  Several minutes later, we heard a car door shut outside and I went into my darkened room and closed the door.  Ruth, Jason and Matt came in and made some small talk.  Ruth asked if mom had heard from me, and mom told her that yeah I had called and didn't know when I would be home, probably after the first of the year.  She then told Jason that their gift was in my room that it was too big for her to move.  Jason and Matt opened the door and looked in.  I was standing in the middle of the room, silent.  Jason looked around and said, "where's the light,"  I spoke up and said, "you have to turn the bulb".  Jason didn't clue in immediately, but it hit him shortly after.  The ruse had worked, and they were all greatly surprised.  The last time I was home, I didn't spend any time with Jason and Matt, even though we had been so close growing up.  This time home would be different; no running around from place to place.  I was going to spend time with my family and close friends on this trip.
I had frequently stayed overnight at the Vice household over the years and Jason asked if I would come over and stay again while I was home.  I agreed, but wanted to stay at mom and dad's and sleep in my old bed again for once.  I woke up the next day and mom had her classic gravy and biscuits and bacon ready for me.  Outside, there was a couple of inches of snow on the ground; great, I had brought it with me.  Later in the day, I called Jason York and told him I was home.  He came up and we decided to make the best of the snow by going to his parents' farm and sledding.  The farm was way back off the grid and had this large open field.  We found an old car hood and some rope, tied off to Jason's brother's ATV and spent the day being tossed wildly across that field.  It was good to be home.  A day or so later, I went to the high school just before their Christmas break to visit those I knew who were still there.  I walked down the hallway as classes let out and blended in with the crowd, catching up to a group of people.  I walked behind them, listening to the conversation and then broke in like I belonged with them.  It was funny to see the reaction from them and everyone else I encountered that day.
The next day, it snowed again.  The temperature was bitterly cold and the wind would seemingly cut one in half.  No one stirred in town, so it lessened my opportunities to run rampant as I did the first time I was home.  I spent the night at the Vice household and played video games most of the night, just like before I left.  Jason is two years younger than me and we grew up together.  Jason's dad was a Vietnam veteran and had been wounded in combat.  He never talked about his experience, and once when Jason and I were younger, we found his Class A uniform and his Purple Heart medal.  Jerome told us to put them away and to never get them out ever again.  Jason wanted to go into the Army, especially after I had left.  The evening was good for all of us, but it was apparent that I was grown up and the days of being carefree kids in the basement playing war games or Nintendo were over.  That was probably the moment I knew life as I had remembered was very different than the life I was living in that moment.
We celebrated Christmas at home as a family again.  It felt so good to be home for the holidays among family; and felt good to be there with no lingering hangover.  So far, the trip home had been relaxing and a sober one, but I still had a bit longer to go.  Christina called me a couple of times while I was home, but the time difference made it difficult and unsettling a few occasions when everyone was awakened by a ringing phone at 2 am.  The new year was fast approaching and I planned on bringing in 1994 as I had every other year; watching the ball drop with mom.  Nineteen ninety-three was closing in a whirlwind.  So much had went on with my life in those twelve months; I had been so many places and had met so many people.  This trip home only solidified my relationships back home...a solidity I would need later on in my journeys.