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PROLOGUE:
NICE AND EASY
DAY
SIX: MIDNIGHT RAIDERS Sean the sportswriter, one of the young punks, is rushed to the hospital with heat exhaustion. The word gets back that he's okay and should be back at camp the next day. He won't have to sleep in his BDUs tonight. That night, before lights out, a surprise barracks inspection. Yelling. Screaming. Nerves are shot. Then, a short lull, followed by more screaming; "WHO BANGED ON MY DOOR!?" Apparently some one banged on The Big Guy's door. "I WANT YOU ALL TO FILE INTO MY ROOM NOW!" It's impossible, there are so many of us, his room is the size of a closet. We do it anyway. Everyone's running back and forth, no one knows what the hell is going on. "WHO BANGED ON MY DOOR!?!" Someone banged on his door. "GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!" We get out of his room. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU PEOPLE THINK YOU"RE DOING!" Neither do we. It goes on like this for a while. Nerves that were shot are now legally declared dead and funeral services are being held for them. A moment before lights out the consensus is; the hell with the top-secret midnight mission, no one is sleeping in his BDUs. Except me. I've had it. If I'm going to be roused in the middle of the night, I'll be damned if I'm going to waste valuable moments getting dressed. I'll catch a couple of extra minute's sleep while everyone else is getting dressed. That's the plan, and I'm sticking to it. Big Jeffrey is at my bunk. "What are you doing?" I'm sleeping in my BDUs, go away. "No one else is, come on Dave, no one else is doing that!" Yeah? Well I am, now go away! "Dave; if you sleep in your BDUs they win! Don't you get it? It's us against them!" No, I don't get it, now I'm going to sleep, so go away! Big Jeffrey goes away. Lights out. Two minutes go by. I get up and take my BDUs off. I climb back into my bunk and fall dead asleep. A voice in the night whispers: "Come on, you don't want to be left behind!" I'm up. Or maybe I'm still asleep. Either way, I'm standing. Swiftly, silently we are all up and into our boots and uniforms, in the dark, without a sound. Systematic, automatic. We're crouched down, below the line of the barracks windows. The word is whispered back; we're breaking out of the barracks, a few at a time, down the stairs. There are MPs out there. They are the enemy. We crawl down the stairs, slowly, slowly. It takes a half-hour to get to the bottom of the stairs leading outside. One by one we make it out in small groups of five or six. face down in the gravel of the parking lot, crawling on our bellies from car to car, slowly, silently. A dash from tree to tree, behind the Dumpster outside the chow hall; it's only then that I look around and se who is in my group; Frish, Big Jeffrey, Lockerman, Food... and The Big Guy himself. Once again, my accidental luck at picking teammates is holding out. Now we're huddled together, clinging to each other, a dense camouflaged pack, moving as one under cover of darkness. Our hearts are pounding; we're drenched in sweat. We stink. Now we're on the other side of the parade field, far away from the barracks. We've avoided the MPs, avoided getting caught. We capture the flagpole! "We did it men," The Big Guy tells us, "we did it! We've only got one problem..." What's that Staff Sergeant? "Now we've got to get back." TO BE CONTINUED EDITOR'S NOTE: Part I of Dave Konig's New York Guard training can be found here. Part II here. Part III here. Part V here. The final installment will appear Monday. — Comedian Dave Konig starred on Broadway in Grease! and won a New York Emmy as the co-host of Subway Q&A. He just completed his first novel Good Luck Mr. Gorsky. Konig is an NRO contributor. |
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