My Dearest Becky Pt. 01

Tyler and Ryan stayed back, chatting about everything and nothing. It wasn't long before Ryan had to ask, the burning desire to know had been plastered on his face from the first moments of class.

"How did your talk go with Sergeant Ruiz?"

"Better than I expected actually," I answered. "You won't be pulled for working parties constantly anymore. I made sure of it."

He took a cursory glance around, checking for anyone of high rank. "Thanks Drew, I really appreciate it."

"No problem, though he will probably be fucking with me now."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't sweat it. I can handle his stupid shit, you shouldn't have to put up with it. You just have to put up with my stupid shit."

Everyone laughed as we finished our smokes and went to get lunch. The food on ship is pretty terrible, with one Marine going as far as to say that "this garbage makes prison food taste like heaven."

That evening, word came down that our next stop would be Guam for three days, resupplying and getting off just long enough to not get everyone arrested. Many of the men were happy that Guam was the next stop because their drinking age was 18. I had to burst their bubble.

"Guys, the drinking age was raised back to 21. Sorry," I said, leaving them to wallow in the misery.

I decided with some spare time that I would write Becky another letter. I wondered if she got my first one yet, deep down hoping she had. I missed her terribly, yet I couldn't have stayed there and let somebody else go back. They might end up as messed up as me.

That thought made me realize that I hadn't had an episode in quite awhile. The dreams had come back, usually of us in country, but nothing as extreme as it used to be. I secretly hoped it wasn't just a lull.

I sat down in the small aisle between racks, resting my back uncomfortably against the edge of the bottom rack. I made sure I had my pen, paper and a drink before diving in.

----

Lauren and I sat in the kitchen, catching up on how things had been since we had talked to our men. I asked her to move in, at least while they were gone. It would be good for us to have each other closer than across town. She had her mail forwarded here, planning to officially move in after a few weeks.

When the mailman came by, it was hard to not race out and meet him. Andrew had said there was at least one letter on the way and I couldn't wait to read it. Shortly after the mailman drove down the street a ways, Lauren and I went to the mailbox.

There were the usual bills, credit card offers and local ads. Near the bottom was a pair of plain white envelopes, one addressed to each of us. We were so excited we left the rest of the mail in the mailbox and ran inside.

We flopped down on the couch, tearing into the letters like kids with Christmas presents. The room was quiet as we read them.

My dearest Becky,

I hope you're doing OK. It's only been a few days but I miss you so much. Time is moving so slowly here on ship, our days are filled with monotony and boredom.

In another week or so we will be in Hawaii. Tyler is super excited and won't stop talking about burning Honolulu to the ground. Hopefully Ryan and I can keep him under control while we are there.

Ryan seems to be doing well, though I suspect he is being unfairly treated by another Sergeant. I'll bring that to an end if that's the case. He and Tyler send their love.

How are Carl and Jeanna doing? I wish them the best and hope they don't get married before I get back. Send them my love, as well as Lauren. Ryan talks about her constantly, like a sad and lost puppy. It'll get better for him, but right now there isn't much to do so he has time for his mind to wander.

If you need any help or support, look to my parents and those around you. My folks have been through this before and they know what to expect. Carl, Jeanna and Lauren will be good resources to help you when things get rough.

I'll call you when we get to Hawaii. I also plan to get a prepaid phone card so I can call you when we're out of the states. I miss you so much darling, sometimes I feel physically ill being away from you. I can't wait to get home and spend the rest of my life wrapped in your arms.

All my love,

AA

As I read it I began to tear up, realizing that I felt the exact same way about us being apart. I've called in sick to work quite a bit since he's been gone, but I have to stop or else I might be let go. We have plenty of money, but with a wedding coming up in the future, we need all we can get.

I set the letter on the table, going to the kitchen and getting two large Ziploc bags for us to keep our letters in. I wrote down their address on a post it note and stuck it on the fridge so we would have it if anyone else wanted to write to them.

Lauren had finished her letter and was softly sobbing, her tears dripping onto the paper. I handed her a bag and some tissues, letting her decide when and if she wanted to talk about it. It was a few minutes before she spoke.

"He's scared," she said softly. "Like really scared."

"I know sweetheart, its his first deployment."

"No, he's not scared about dying or anything, he's worried he will end up like Andrew. Unable to turn off certain memories."

"He'll be fine. Andrew won't let anything happen to him."

"How do you know!" She yelled through tears. "How can you be sure?"

I had never seen Lauren this upset before. "I can't be sure sis, but I know that Andrew promised to bring him back safely. He will deliver on that, I know it."

"No you don't! Things happen, uncontrollable things. What if they split them up? What if he gets hurt? Where will I be then?"

"Right by his side, where he'll need you. You do know you're all he talks about right? If he isn't talking about work then he's talking about you."

She wiped her eyes, the tears smearing her make-up. "Really?"

I passed her the letter I got. "Read it for yourself."

She read the letter, smiling as she did. She choked back a laugh when she read about Ryan, obviously torn between her sadness and the writing before her.

"I'm sorry," Lauren said at length. "I'm just so scared for him, I don't know what to do. I feel so helpless."

"Because we are helpless. We can't control what happens over there any more than we can control the weather. All we can do is be strong and support them in any way they need."

Lauren hugged me hard, sobbing into my shoulder. It was going to be a long eight months.

---

November 18 was a foggy morning for the Pacific, the coast of Guam barely visible as a large grey shape in the distance. Tyler had woken me up early to have a smoke with him before Gunny was going to brief us. Our orders had changed and I had a feeling of what they would be.

"Bet ya a pack of cigarettes that we have a field exercise here," I said to Tyler, braking the sleepy fog surrounding us.

"Why would they do that?" He asked. "We can't shoot here."

"We can run drills. There is an abandoned airfield we've used before."

"Fuck it, you're on."

When we finished our smokes we flicked them over the side, watching them fall the 60 feet or so to the sea below. We returned to the berthing as everyone else was getting up, camouflage clad zombies moving about their morning routines of showers, shaves and brushing teeth.

We gathered around the quarterdeck of our berthing, mingling with several staff NCO's and a few of the platoon commanders as we waited for Gunny Sanchez.

"How's it hangin' Anderson?" Lt. Price asked.

"A little to the right this morning sir, how are you?"

"I'm fine, just fine. How're your Marines?"

"Doing well so far sir, though I'll bet we will find out more in the next few days."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because Gunny is gonna tell us we have drills on the airfield sir."

"How do you know that?"

"Matter of deduction. There aren't any resupply missions going, we haven't made for port yet, and Gunny is going to brief us. Seems like a training exercise to me sir."

He smiled at me. "Very observant Sergeant. Now I see why the other officers have so much faith in you."

"Thank you sir," I said rather proudly. "It helps that I've made this journey twice previously."

"Of course you have," he said, shaking his head and laughing. "Any words of advice for this training exercise?"

"I'll given you the same advice I give all officers, listen to your Sergeants. Odds are that between them, they've seen just about everything sir."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Sir, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Have you been to combat?"

"No, this will potentially be the first time."

"OK, if you wanna go outside the wire, come with my men sir."

"Very well, thank you."

The door to the berthing opened and Gunny Sanchez came in, followed by Captain Varren. The two of them came to the front of us, with Captain Varren standing in front of Gunny Sanchez, obviously the one to break the news to us. The room got quiet, everyone waiting to hear what he had to say and those of us who had been on this route before hoping that it wasn't orders for a training exercise.

"Morning Marines," Captain Varren said, receiving a chorus of good mornings in return. "We have a slight change of plans. Tomorrow morning, three gun sections will load their guns and trucks onto LCAC's and make for the shore. They will then spend the next few days training on an abandoned airfield, where they will be tested and timed.

Once they have finished, they will load back up and we will make port in Guam. Those who stay behind will be doing maintenance and preparing training for the next time we unload the guns."

Groans filled the air, the men not hiding their displeasure at possibly of having to do more training. I had mixed emotions about it; not wanting to do the work, yet wanting to see how well our gun performed.

"Guns 2, 3 and 6 will be going, the rest will stay," Gunny Sanchez said, stepping forward. Comm and Motor T support will be distributed by their respective platoon commanders. Today, guns platoon will complete PM work on their howitzers, weapons and vehicles. Comm and Motor T will get with their platoon commanders and be given work instructions. Any questions?"

I raised my hand, needing just one question answered.

"Yes, Sergeant Anderson?"

"Why are only three guns going?"

"Because those three guns have new section chiefs. I have to know how they will perform together before we get in country."

"Roger, thanks Gunny."

After being dismissed, we all went down to the well deck to conduct our maintenance. As we descended the ramp, I pulled my guys aside, wanting to explain some things to them.

"Listen up guys," I said. "Here's what I need from you today. Tyler, you and Jones PM the truck, make sure we have everything we need for five days."

"Why five days Sergeant?" Jones asked. "Gunny said we would be gone for three or four."

"LCAC's break down like a Swiss watch. We might be told three days but if our ride breaks down, we could be there longer," I explained.

"Got it," Jones acknowledged.

"Now, the rest of us will get the gun ready. Whichever group finishes first will go and help the other. When all that is done, we will go clean weapons and pack our gear. Bring your cold weather stuff as well, it may get cold at night. Any questions?"

When nobody said anything I continued. "Good, those who don't smoke, get to it. Those who do finish up, then get to it. Remember, you're working for me today. Anyone who wants you for anything has to clear it with me first, understood?"

Everyone affirmed what I had said and quickly went to work. Within two hours, the gun was ready and the truck was nearly done. I sent Drake, Simmons and Wirth to start cleaning the .50 cal that would mount on the truck while Tyler, Jones, Ryan and I finished the truck. In the end, we had finished hours before everyone else.

----

It had been a long few days since Andrew had called. Work did nothing to help me take my mind off of him, much to my dismay. To be honest, work at the dentist office was so slow that I've given serious thought to quitting. A close friend of mine has a ranch just outside of town and is always asking for help, maybe it's the opportunity I need.

Smokey's was relatively dead this evening, just a few regulars shooting pool and having a few drinks. I sat at the bar alone, nursing my once cold beer and wondering what Andrew was doing. I knew that he wouldn't be in country yet, but I still worried almost daily about him.

His parents had been a big help, sending me emails quite often. Some were chains of motivational memes or funny things about military life, some were checking up on me and telling me to contact them if I need anything. Andrew's mother Mary had been a godsend, talking on the phone with me until the early morning hours. His dad had called me a few times from work. He was a refinery worker too, working at the Shell refinery in Martinez.

I noticed someone sit down next to me, a tall, thin man with long hair and a goatee. I made idle chat with the bartender, hoping he would leave me alone, but I didn't think my luck would last.

"Hey beautiful," he said. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"If you want, but I'm spoken for," I replied, praying that he would just go away.

"Where's your man at?"

"On his way to Iraq."

"Shit, if I were him I'd never leave you."

"Oh believe me, he didn't want to. It was his duty and obligation, so he went."

"Now who's gonna keep you warm tonight?"

"Not you," I said, finally having enough of this dirtbag.

"And why not? Your man ain't here, so someone's gotta do it."

"Because it would be hazardous to your health."

Keith, one of the regulars and a frequent opponent of mine in darts and pool came by to get a refill. He was quite stocky, with short hair and a face scarred from years of fighting. He was a good man, watching over me when Andrew wasn't around.

"Hey Becky, this guy bothering you?" Keith asked, his thick southern drawl making it almost impossible to understand him.

"Actually," I said, looking at the lanky guy next to me. "He was just leaving."

"Not without you," the man said.

"I think you'd better move along pardner, she's got a mean streak a mile long." Keith said, though it really wasn't a request.

"I'll leave when she's good and ready."

"You ain't from these parts are ya?"

"No."

"Well, let me educate ya. This woman and her fiance are good friends of many of us here. Believe me when I say that you need to move it along." Keith was beginning to outwardly show his anger now.

"Look bumpkin, the only way I'm leaving is with her. She obviously needs someone to satisfy her."

"Well," Keith said, looking at me and the bartender. "I asked him nicely."

"That you did," the bartender replied.

Keith grabbed the guy by the collar, throwing him from his bar stool. He gave the man a hard kick to the ribs before hauling him to the door, tossing him outside into the cold and rain.

"Don't come back," Keith called after him. "Ever!"

I sat there on my stool, laughing at the turn of events. Things had been hard since Andrew had left, but folks had been helpful. This town was small enough that just about everyone knew everyone, making it easy to accept people as extended family. It also made outsiders obvious to anyone with two functioning brain cells to rub together.

"You OK Becks?" Keith asked upon his return.

"Yeah, thanks Keith."

"You really wanna thank me?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Maybe," I said cautiously.

"Let me win at pool for once."

We shared a laugh and ordered another round, heading to the pool table. Keith was a good man, but he was terrible at pool. I guess I can let him win once, I thought as he racked up.

---

Lucky for Ryan, he was a hard worker with a strong back, because I think Sergeant Ruiz was right. Ryan's usual position on the crew was ammo man, fusing and bringing the 100 pound rounds to the gun as needed for the mission. I had decided to shake things up a bit and moved everyone but Tyler to different positions. Ryan became assistant gunner, elevating the gun up and down (quadrant), but he was slow on the wheel and had trouble getting the correct quadrant.

The first day had gone relatively well, having done a few emplacement drills as well as simulating fire, move and fire again. Gunny Sanchez was pleased with us, but not so much with the others. Earlier in the day, Gunny had come by our gun and congratulated us on our ability. He told us the next few hours would be slow for us as they worked through the other guns and that I was to deliver some form of training while we waited.

Being a good Sergeant, I delegated that to Tyler, having each person learn the basics of a new job. Normally I'd do it myself, but I wanted to see if my theory was correct, and our position in the middle of the gun line helped a lot. Artillery law states that one cannot smoke within 50 feet of the gun, so I went to smoke, using the distance to get within earshot of the other guns.

As I expected, Sergeant Ruiz was yelling at his men, hoping to motivate them through fear of punishment. His crew was sloppy and slow, more concerned about potential punishment than doing their jobs. Sergeant Christensen's gun was much the same, not only confirming my theory but also leading me to suspect that the two were trained by the same person.

"Listen up," I said as I returned to the gun. "School circle, lets go." Everyone quickly gathered around, sitting in from of me on the old tarmac.

"What's up Drew?" Tyler asked.

"Class time. Simmons, when should you pick up Corporal?"

"Soon I hope, why Sergeant?" Simmons answered.

"How should you lead Marines?"

"I'm not sure Sergeant."

"OK, there are two schools of leadership. One leads through fear, the other through encouragement. How do I lead?"

"Encouragement."

"Good, how does Sergeant Ruiz and Christensen lead?"

"Fear."

"Good. So why are we having this discussion while they are working?"

"Because you know how to lead Sergeant."

"No, because I know how to get results. I haven't yelled at any of you in a negative way, haven't belittled you or made you feel like shit. I tell you what needs to be done, how it needs to be done and when it needs to be done by. Why? Because we're all grown men here. Treating you like little kids isn't helping anyone and only hurting the crew.

"You all know my proverbial door is always open, you can talk to me about anything without fear of reprisal from me or Tyler. So remember, lead from the front, lead by example and lead with faith in your crew to get the job done. Treating people with respect goes much further than ruling with an iron fist."

We discussed leadership for the better part of two hours, going as far as to bust out my old copy of The Art of War. Sun Tzu was pretty spot on with his work, I must say. The rest of the day was mock fire missions and training. We finally called it a night around 1900.

"Sergeant Anderson," Ryan said, sitting beside me. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

"How is my performance? I'm worried that I'm behind the curve."

"Well, speaking honestly, I think you are a bit behind. Don't let this discourage you though, you have something that can't be trained."

"What's that?"

"Work ethic. I can train anything from a bit behind to dumb as a fence post, but I can't train lazy."

"Thanks."

"If you want, we can do some training when we have down time and I can schedule something for us if I need to."

"What about everyone else?"

"I have a minion to take care of them."

"A minion?"

"Tyler. As a Corporal, he should be taking more of the work load than I give him, and I will give him more when we get in country. Right now though, I want him relaxed and calm."