Forever by Jeff Holmes Read Free Book Online Page A

and sat back and looked at the sky. “Just 29 more days,” he said to himself. “Four weeks and I’m the fuck out of here.”
     
     
    ****
     
     
    CHAPTER 7
    Scott settled into the routine with a broken foot. The last time he’d spent an inordinate amount of time on crutches, it nearly ended up being the end of his world; his whole life.
    But this was a different Scott Mitchell. If he wasn’t sure before, he knew he had a life again; maybe even a future. From the time he talked to Roni that night, the sky was bluer, the sun was brighter and he didn’t even mind his green clothes anymore.
    He ended up spending a little over two weeks in his cast. He’d made it to the rifle range for practice, and even qualified firing a .45 pistol and throwing a grenade in his cast. But it came off on May 5, two weeks from graduation. It would be hectic day.
    From the hospital, Scott had to go straight to the uniform issue building to get his dress uniforms. Because of his cast, he couldn’t get his uniforms before and he’d already missed a week of off-post passes. He and the boys were planning a night in Rolla on Saturday; steak dinners, lots of drinks, maybe even a movie. It was the last Saturday to do anything like this; the next weekend they’d be on their field exercises. The next Saturday after that, Scott would be in San Antonio.
    He hopped out of a cab at the barracks just in time to put his uniforms away and march to lunch. Afterward, it was off to Advanced Individual Training briefings. This was the day everyone headed off to different locations around the Fifth Brigade area to hear about their next assignments. Guys like Andy, who was going into intelligence, or Terry, who was going to be a photographer, were in pretty small meetings. Those were pretty rare Modes of Service. The 11B (Infantry) and 12B (Armor) meetings were on opposite sides of the gym. Scott and the other two dozen guys who were going to medical training in San Antonio met in the chapel. A medical services officer from Fort Sam was there to give the guys an idea of what was up next for them.
    “You’ll be arriving late the morning of the 20th and you’ll have free time over the weekend,” this Lt. Marsh was telling them. “Training will actually start on Monday, the 23rd.”
    Scott and Carl were looking over their packets about San Antonio, Fort Sam, and other fine details. They were looking for Texas barbecue and good beer.
    As well as things had been going for Scott, he wasn’t prepared for the next bit of information. Between letters and phone calls, he and Roni were making plans for what they had hoped would be a three-day weekend. Scott had it figured they’d probably have Memorial Day off. He was going to fly home either Friday night or Saturday morning, then fly back late Monday. Assuming, of course, they had Memorial Day off.
    But, as his father had taught him over the years, never assume.
    “…and, due to the limited amount of time we have for training; just 24 days for 91B, you will be training on Memorial Day,” Marsh said.
    Scott’s head snapped up so hard he felt a stinger in his neck. His mouth hung open dumbly and he mumbled, quietly, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
    Carl nudged him and said, “Sorry, man.”
    The guys had been hearing about nothing but Roni for at least a month, and he’d been talking about Memorial Day for a while. They all knew there was a chance of having to be there on the 30th (which was also the day after his 20th birthday), but Scott might have overbuilt his hopes. He really didn’t hear much of anything else Mar sh said. He’d heard enough.
    Andy, Terry, Carl, Derric and Scott had become pretty good friends over the last eight weeks. Four white guys and a black guy; Derric called the other four his offensive line, while they called Derric “Token.”
    So the other four knew Scott was hurting. He called Roni that night, and he was more upset than she was.
    “Footer, it’s OK,” she said