Psychic Warrior Read Online Free PDF

hand-drawn and listed the preselected bill of fare. Another delivered a dozen red roses while simultaneously turning up the volume on the cassette player. I was gaining ground again … Debbie was smiling.

    She stared at the menu I had prepared. “What’s this … spiced beef?”
    â€œIt’s a specialty. I hope you like it.” I bit my lip trying not to laugh. I snapped my fingers in the air, and the waiter returned with a folding TV tray and two boxes of C rations. He snapped the tray into position and immediately began wrenching open the cans of vile-smelling military rations. With a fork stolen from the cafeteria he pried out the contents, which fell onto the paper plate like dog food. He mashed it down and presented it to Debbie.
    She stared at it for a moment and looked at me, hard. “Do you expect me to eat this?”
    â€œYes,” I said as my meal was placed in front of me. “It’s good—try it.” She stared at it again, poked at it with her fork, and to my surprise, took a small bite. I knew then that I’d made the right choice in this woman. Anybody who would put up with this was very special indeed.
    We “dined” for hours. C ration crackers for bread, canned lima beans for vegetables, and canned fruit cocktail poured over canned maple-nut cake for dessert. We listened to that Neil Diamond tape over and over again. My friends whisked away the paper plates and turned Neil over one last time … and then disappeared.
    We held hands talking for a while. Then I took a deep breath and knelt beside her, trying to be composed and romantic. “Debbie,” I said, my voice cracking, “I’ve never done this before … .”
    â€œOf course you haven’t.” She smiled. “You’re only twenty. Unless there’s something I don’t know about you.”
    â€œNo, no, I’ve really never done this before. So I don’t know if I’m doing it right … or what you expect.”
    It was obvious that I was struggling. “Somehow, David, I think you will always do what I least expect … . But I love you anyway.”
    I took a deep breath. “I love you, too. And I want to marry you—that is, if you’ll have me. All I’ll ever be is a soldier, and all I can promise you is that you’ll move every three years, and live in crummy places, and …”

    She put her fingers on my lips, “Shhh, it’s okay. Wherever it is, we’ll make it a home.”
    The feeling of peace was overwhelming. I was scared, but I was calm. I knew this was right; I just didn’t know how I was going to do it. I’d not given much thought to being a husband before now, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do next. I didn’t even have a ring. I couldn’t afford a full tank of gas; how was I supposed to finance a ring? My mind was racing. I took a deep breath, we kissed, and went for a walk in the brisk night air. My friends remained to clean up the mess, grinning in victory. I’ll never forget them.
    Debbie and I were married April 22, 1975, in the temple at Manti, Utah. Exactly nine months later, Debbie bore us a beautiful baby boy whom we named Michael. Our lives changed forever on that day. My world was coming together fast. I was a father, and I cherished every second of it. I wasn’t very good at diapers, but I was good at getting up at night, being blanketed with vomit, stuff like that. I loved being a dad, even if I was petrified. There we were, sophomores in college, married and parents. The sacrifices had only just begun.
    Debbie was a wonderful army wife, even when I was just a cadet. She supported me in virtually every possible way, which was not the case with all spouses. In the years to come Debbie and I watched as many marriages of many of our friends fell by the wayside because of the stresses and trials of army life. Being a soldier isn’t easy, but being a