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A MilesVisions Short Story   

"Hold On Tight"

by

Miles O'Bryan

 

It was August 6th, 1944, just two months after D-day. The young officer cadets lined up for roll call. Rod stood in the front rank facing into the sun. The sun burned into his eyes promising another sweat-soaked day. College Station, Texas in August was about the closest image of hell he could think of, only one short step from the devastating realities of the war awaiting him and his fellow cadets next year when they finished their training. His mind drifted back to home, to hot summer days on the farm in Kansas. He pictured sweat shimmering on the bodies of young men hefting bales of hay. He let his mind drift over the image of those boys working to feed the nation, and remembered a time when they were all filled with bright futures. Now, half those boys were dead or dying somewhere in France or on remote beaches in the Pacific.
He was only half awake when he heard the sergeant bark the command to count off by three's. Then, "All three's step to the white line, one's and two's dismissed." He anticipated some onerous task designed to teach the young would-be officers the meaning of leadership by sweating out the day standing at attention in the hot sun. Instead, the voice of the Commanding Officer came over the public address system. "Gentlemen, you are standing on the line of Victory. You are being asked to sacrifice your personal ambitions for the greater need of your nation. You have been summoned to become America's newest soldiers on the front line against Germany." He went on to remind them of the high cost of the Normandy invasion calculated in the number of lives lost. They were needed to help make up for those losses. There was to be no more training for them, no more waiting. There would be no shining bars on their shoulders. Bodies were needed, their bodies, to fill in the gaps left by the dead and dying in France.
At noon they were loaded on buses heading for the train station, each man with a week-long pass secured in his front pocket. They had exactly one week to say goodbye to home and family. In France the war patiently awaited their young bodies.
The station platform was already crowded by the time the buses arrived. Furloughed recruits were low priority. The train for Kansas was full when it pulled into the station. Only those with top priority could board. They would have to wait for the next train. Rod turned to go into the station, thought maybe he would get some beer to cool down, when he was grabbed from behind on both shoulders. He went stiff with fear at the unexpected assault, then relaxed when he heard Jimmy's voice. "See you didn't break your neck yet." Rod felt himself pulled hard against the young man's body, then turned to face him, so close he could feel heat radiating from Jimmy's grinning face. "Jimmy Souther, from this morning. Remember?"
Rod couldn't possibly have forgotten the handsome young man. Again fate, their number up. "How about a beer? Looks like were gonna be here a while."
"Rod Price, yeah, sure. I guess we're in for another hurry-up-and-wait day. Damn, our week is ticking off before we even get started."
"Right again Mr. Rod Price. Oh, I know your name. Got your number from that fat guy in your unit, Sammy what's his name?"
"No fat Sammy in my unit."
"Well, whoever. Beer?"
They sat through the early afternoon drinking beer, catching up on vital statistics, home, family, what to expect when they landed in France, what not to expect. They decided to walk around the small university town. The next train north wouldn't arrive until after four o'clock. They looked into shop windows where they saw their own images superimposed on the faces of war posters. Uncle Sam wanted them, NOW. They had become every man, any man, just another number writ large in the sky, reflected in the windows of small town America.
They were back at the station early for the four o'clock train, lined up and ready to go, but again they were passed over for others with higher rank. Jimmy turned to Rod who was waiting next to him. "Won't be another train until nine o'clock, then another at one o'clock in the morning, what say we pick up some beer and take our chances on the one o'clock train? We might have better luck in the middle of the night. I know this little hotel where we can get a room cheap, get out of the sun. What do you say?"
The small run down hotel had not recovered from the Great Depression. Their room was spare, a small table, no chairs and a double bed sagging in the corner. Jimmy pulled the shade down, tried to pull the thin curtains across the window, but they had no give. They hung limp down the sides of the window frame. "Just as well, we might get a little air this way, the shade will keep the sun out at least."
Jimmy pulled off his shirt. Sweat glistened on the hairs of his chest. "Gotta shower down, cool off. You open the beer." Liberated from the spit and shine demands of Army regulations, Jimmy slipped out of his pants, kicked off his shoes and left them in the middle of the room. They were not in the barracks, nobody was looking over their shoulders. Jimmy walked naked into the bathroom leaving the door wide open. Rod could hear the splash of water in the tub, then a booming "Yee-haw." Rod walked to the bathroom door and looked in. Jimmy's head peaked out from behind the shower curtain. "Cold water shower sure does a body good on a hot day. Come on in. The water's fine." Rod smiled back. "What the hell?" Who knew when his number would be called again.
Their hard cocks met as water drained over their muscled bodies. They looked deeply into each other's eyes, plumbed the depths of their souls, held tight to one another. Rod whispered into Jimmy's ear, "It'll be all right. Just a matter of numbers in the sky. We're gonna be all right, long as we hold on tight."
They lay exhausted in the sagging bed. It was dark. Lights from the hotel sign blinked behind the window shade. Rod heard the longing cry of a passing train rock their room. "You've been sleeping like a baby," Rod whispered into Jimmy's ear. He pulled Jimmy closer, gently waking him. "It's about time to get ready if you still want to try and catch that one o'clock train?"
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© 1998, 2005 Miles O'Bryan, San Francisco, CA. All rights reserved. LAST UPDATED:  January 11th, 2005