The Hand of Christ (27 page)

CPT Scott shifted on his stool, and turned himself toward York. “Listen, Corporal, what happened today, what you did, it was really something. The way you handled yourself and the situation…” For some reason the usually collected Captain was stammering a bit and had a hard time articulating his thoughts.

CPT Scott continued, “What I am trying to say York is that I was, that is, I am really proud of what you did today. I don’t think there was another soldier in that room who could have handled the situation so effectively.”

York was taken somewhat by surprise; the affection, or maybe it was respect, coming from CPT Scott was something new and made him feel a bit uneasy. York wasn’t sure just how to respond and spat out a simple, “Thank you, sir.”

CPT Scott sat silent for a moment, and was about to speak, but was interrupted by the bartender who asked, “What can I get for you buddy?”

Scott peered over at York’s beer and replied, “Just give me what he’s having, thanks.”

The bartender remembered York, how could he not. The co-ed that the young soldier had spent half a night chatting with a few weeks back was the hottest thing that had walked into his bar since he could remember, and had been the envy of every half drunken soldier and frat boy that night. He remembered a couple of older married guys getting that angry
just what the hell do you think you’re looking at, she’s young enough to be your daughter
look from their wives.

Since then, the arrogant little bastard had toyed with his patrons by having the nerve to bring her back over and over again clearly parading her in front of any and every man possible.

There was no way you could forget a girl like that; he looked at York and with a slight bit of sarcasm, and replied to CPT Scott, “One Hefe-Weizen coming right up, just don’t spill it on your friend, he had enough of that the last time he was here.” The bartender returned his gaze to York, and gave him a knowing nod with a crooked grin and then turned to pour the Captain’s beer.

“
'The last time,” York, what was that about?”

“
Long story, sir, it has to do with the girl I was supposed to meet tonight.”

“
It must have been a good ending if she’s coming back.”

“
That and a good beginning really, but doesn’t seem to matter now, she’s not here. I probably filled in the blanks of every cliché
soldier meets local girl, soldier does local girl bad
story. Oh well, you win some, you lose some,” sighed York.

Changing the subject, Scott’s tone turned a bit serious, “York, I wanted to talk to you about your attitude.”

“
I know, sir,” interrupted York, “I know. I have a bit of a problem. I don’t mean any disrespect being that you’re a career soldier, but I just ain’t cut out for this lifer stuff. I am not soldier material, and I know that I have been letting it show. I will really try to handle myself better before I get out.”

“
That’s just it, York, you are soldier material. And that is precisely your problem. You have your head so far up your young behind that you have no clue just what you are made of – what your potential could lead to. With your nose so far up your ass all you can smell is shit and so you act like it!”

Out of instinct, York became angry.

He forcibly set down his beer, spilling some, and gained the attention of the bartender. He snapped back at the Captain, and a bit too loudly, “That’s bullshit, I know who I am, what I am made of!”

The outburst caught the attention of a few of the patrons.

Scott’s face contorted into a scowl and snarled, “At ease that tone son, this is what I am talking about; you are a damn hothead. You act first, think second. That kind of attitude is only good in certain situations, ones like what you went through today. You have a serious deficiency with regards to every other situation and the manner in which to handle yourself in it. You have to learn that sometimes you need to hear about the shit you aren’t so good at doing.”

A fresh mug of Hefe-Weizen was slid between the two soldiers by the bartender followed by a towel to wipe up York’s mess: “Gentlemen, relax a bit or I may have to ask you two to take your lover’s quarrel outside. I know you all have that
don’t ask, don’t tell policy
but my other customers don’t give a shit.”

Glancing around the bar, Scott noticed that a number of heads had turned their attention to the two of them. CPT Scott then looked at the young Corporal and speaking at a more appropriate level said, “York when I first entered the military I knew a young soldier, he was a private at the time that was a lot like you. Actually, he was just like you.”

CPT Scott raised his mug and swallowed nearly half of his beer in one gulp and then continued, “This guy, he was arrogant, quick to argue, and confrontational, and with everyone, York. The thing about this guy is that he was smarter, stronger, faster, and more able than everyone else, and he knew it. He wore his abilities on his sleeve and hated everyone else because they weren’t up to his standard, and to make things worse, he let everyone know it. Everything came easy to him, York. That was precisely the problem, he wasn’t challenged and nothing he did in the Army was challenging enough.”

While York sat and listened to CPT Scott, he couldn’t help but think that this is exactly how he feels: like a professional amongst amateurs.

“
One day he was confronted in private by his platoon sergeant, a real mean son-of-a-bitch. The platoon sergeant was an ex-Airborne Ranger that had been injured on a mission and could no longer qualify for jump status. So, instead of retiring on a medical discharge he had convinced the Army to let him ride out his career as a
Leg
in a support platoon pushing papers for a living.”

“‘
Leg,’ sir? What’s that?”

“
That’s a non-Airborne qualified soldier, Corporal. He had to give up his jump status and leave the Rangers, a hard thing for an elite soldier to do; it really smashed his ego. At any rate,” continuing his story, “this ex-Airborne Ranger confronted the young private, told him in not so many words what an ass he was, and that he should just do him, the Army, and the rest of a world a favor and go jump off the barracks roof before he would get himself thrown off. The private then told the sergeant to go fuck himself, and then just stared smugly at the sergeant willing him to do something.”

CPT Scott paused to take another long swallow of his beer, which drained the mug. He set the empty glass back on the bar he sat silent for a moment, perhaps having seen the same thing in the beer that York had earlier.

“
Did he, sir?”

“
Did he what, Corporal?”

“
Well, did he do anything? What did the sergeant do after that?”

Scott’s left hand rose to his left eyebrow, his index finger slowly caressed a small scar that bifurcated his brow perpendicularly, “Yeah, he did something alright. Before that arrogant private could even start another sentence, the sergeant cracked him across his temple faster than you can blink.”

“
Holy shit, really?” Just as York finished the question he realized who the private was, “It was you, sir? You were the asshole?”
Crap
, thought York, “I didn’t mean it like that, you’re not an asshole, I meant to say, was it you?”

Scott smiled crookedly at York’s fumbling, “Don’t worry about it, I was an asshole, York; a much bigger one than you.”

“
Touché, sir, I guess I deserve that.”

“
Listen, York, there is a reason you run up and down that mountain each day with your rucksack on your back, and there is a reason you were chosen for the CORe center, for military intelligence. You are better than everyone else, York, but your problem is that you know it and you hate that it seems like no one else does. Every day I see you, and you remind me so much of myself when I was younger that it makes me sick. Before today, I wanted to crack you on your head just like my platoon sergeant did to me.”

“
Did you hit him back?”

“
Hell no, son, he knocked me out! I was knocked out before my body even hit the ground. When I came to, the sergeant was reaching down to me with his hand to pull me back on my feet.”

“
He helped you up? I don’t get it, why did he help you?”

“
York let me tell you what he said to me, which will probably answer your question. I begrudgingly took his hand and he pulled me to my feet and said some things that I will never forget:

“
Private, you have two options here, either stand and realize that you have the opportunity to become a new man, a new soldier, or your other option is to run your sniveling ass to the commander and file charges against me, charges that I will not deny. I might be forced to retire, but I don’t give a shit because I am a soldier, a professional; I’ve earned my pension. I am a success and proud of it. You, on the other hand, should you choose not to accept the first option, will continue to be a hot-headed, angry, unsuccessful, tiny morsel of a man. You will be a failure, waking up every day always angry with someone or at something; you will blame everything and everyone but yourself for the way you feel, for your failures. It’s a shitty way to live a life: always unhappy.”

CPT Scott stopped speaking for a moment. With his head hanging down, he let out a short laugh as he recalled that day, and then said, “York, that sergeant turned and started to walk away from me. I just stood there, angry as all can be. I wanted to kick the crap out of him, but couldn’t will myself to do anything. I was frozen. Right as I thought I had built up the courage to yell something out, the sergeant stopped and turned back to me and said one more thing:

“
One last thing private; before you go off and do anything stupid, I want you to think about one more thing. If you think you are so god-damned fucking great, god’s great gift to this planet, why don’t you just go roll around in the bushes with the best; see if you can keep up with real soldiers and not these candy assed paper pushers you work with here. It’s real easy to plop yourself in the middle of a bunch of fat ass pussy’s and be the best. Next week, there’s a Special Forces recruiter visiting the company, I suggest you go tell him just how great you are, go see if he’ll let you play with the big boys. Just don’t mention to him how you got knocked the fuck out by a gimpy old Leg.”

Looking at York, CPT Scott said, “With that, my old platoon sergeant walked away and, as you can probably tell, I went and visited that recruiter.”

CPT Scott pushed himself from the bar and stood up. He reached into his front pocket and pulled a twenty-dollar bill out and threw it on the counter and said, “These are for the beers and enough for you to buy yourself another round.” Scott called out to the bartender to give York another beer, “Consider it my way of congratulating you for the job you did today.”

“
Thanks, sir, but you don’t have to do that.”

“
You're right, York, I don’t.”

CPT Scott reached into his back pocket and tossed a pamphlet onto the bar. “It’s real easy to plop yourself in the middle of a bunch of pussies and be the best, why don’t you go see if you have what it takes to roll around the bushes with the best,
Corporal.
”

Without waiting for a response, CPT Scott walked away.

CPL York picked up the pamphlet and unfolded it. Across the top was the notification: Special Forces Qualification School Information and Recruiting. Tuesday, 1300 hours, Divisional Headquarters, RM 130.

The bartender slid two more beers in front of York prompting the young Corporal to say, “Hey, man, he didn’t order two – just one beer.”

“
I know, but I think she might want the other.” The bartender was pointing behind York and toward the door.

York turned himself around to see her walking toward him; this time she wore a short, bright-yellow summer sundress that was draped over her frame by two very thin shoulder straps. Next to her bronzed skin, the yellow dress made her look nearly goddess like. She walked across the microbrewery; the dress flowed erotically around her shape. Every man, and almost every woman for that matter, turned a quiet gaze in her direction. With each step, her sinewy shape echoed slight ripples throughout her toned physique.

She was a goddess.

York held his breath and was instantly aroused; his heart beat loudly, it was something that happened every time he saw her.

She passed CPT Scott as she walked toward York. The Captain stopped mid-stride, and followed her with his mouth halfway agape as she walked past him. The Captain mouthed an indiscreet, “Well I’ll be a son of a bitch,” and then turned and left.

“
I thought you weren’t going to show, what happened?” she said.

“
Long day, really long day.”

York pulled her stool closer to his own. She sat down and touched his knees with hers and said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“
Maybe later if that’s okay, right now I just want to continue where we left off.” York folded the pamphlet back up and shoved it into his pocket; picking up his beer, he toasted, “To another day and to new beginnings, it’s always the best part.”

Smiling at one another, they tapped their mugs of Hefe-Weizen and exchanged a delicate kiss that was proper for their surroundings.

The bartender rolled his eyes and walked to some new customers at the other end of the bar.