March 4 – National Hug A GI Day
Sylum Snippet by Paula Cas
Bored … Bored … Bored … Though being bored while traveling through a war zone was not a bad thing, but it felt like his bones were rattling inside his skin. He shifted in his seat trying to get all the extra gear to settle on his stocky frame. Scanning his surroundings, he found nothing had changed from the previous scans he’d done during the seven hour ride.
Not used to doing nothing and being in full combat gear for extended periods of time, he tried not to fidget and tug at straps and buckles, while wishing he could pull out one of the cigars carefully wrapped against breakage in one of the pockets somewhere in his vest … Instead he took a bottle of water from his aide and stared out the side window instead of the back of the deuce and half they’d followed from Baghdad.
~ • ~ • ~
The radio crackled on the table across from where he was studying maps in comparison to the reports in his hand.
“Dust cloud heading this way approximately ten klicks out.”
His aide didn’t even look up from his reading. “Supply convoy. It’s on the calendar.”
“God forbid we get a fly-in like everyone else.” The General muttered as the radio operator relayed the message.
“Indiscriminate anti-aircraft fire.”
“I’d like to show them what to do with that.” He growled.
Satisfied that his maps and reports were up-to-date, he returned to his office … His aide passing him papers to read as they walked.
Settled with a fresh pot of coffee and his computer, he started wading through the pages of emails that bureaucrats loved sending soldiers in the field trying to tell him how to do the job he’d been doing since 1840. He snorted at the continued hubris of politicians. His thoughts were interrupted when the smell of cigar tickled his sensitive nose. His soldiers smoked a lot of things in their off hours, but none of them smoke cigars with that particular scent.
He walked around his desk to track down the source of the smell when a flurry of activity shattered the quiet of his office. Before he could demand answers, he was engulfed in a hug that surrounded him in the smell of cigar and Mate.
“You expecting someone else that would do this, Cump …” Lips covered his and he was lost to everything else.
When he recovered his wits, his Mate had stripped off his protective armor and was poking around Sherman’s office. The two Generals caught each other up on what was happening in their respective commands and any gossip from home. Finally, their aides quit fluttering around like nervous wrens and left the two men alone.
“Damn, I hate strapping all that stuff on just to take a ride through the countryside.” Grant grumbled as he helped himself to a cup of coffee.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing leaving Bagdad to spend the bigger part of two days cooped up in an APC?”
Chuckling Ulysses S. Grant set his cup down on the desk and pulled his Mate to his chest.
“It’s National Hug A GI Day. You just happen to be the GI I wanted to hug.”
~ Finis ~