Revealing Revelations Read Online Free PDF Page B

laughter. “Ha ha ha! You bastard. Ha ha! Always could make me laugh.” He stands up and closes the tan door to the fridge, making his way out the door. “Whether you know it or not, Thomas, we all have the same thoughts as you. And I know you want answers. Hell, we all do.”
    “So, Shane, what are you saying?” I ask him.
    He exhales while placing his hands on his sides, shifting his weight to his left leg. “Remember the Coo Coo’s Nest right outside east gate?” Shane asks me.
    “Yeah, the Haitian club, yeah, I know the place,” I answered. “What about it?”
    Shane reaches for the door knob turning it and slightly opening the door. “Meet me there, twenty-three hundred hours,” he says dramatically, walking halfway out the door. He always was a character. Then I stop and think about it.
    “That’s a Haitian bar, Shane. A HAITIAN BAR!” I say sarcastically, pronouncing every word louder. He hears me, but continues on to the stairway. I step outside the door and lean over the brown metal railing banister looking down at the parking lot. Doors from the first floor fly open.
    It’s Shane, he goes down four cement steps and walks a short distance along the sidewalk. I can’t believe it he wants to go to a Haitian bar. The First Calvary Division just got back stateside, and he wants to celebrate at a Haitian bar. I know I won’t have any problems, but the idea of Shane, a thirty-one year old white guy, sitting on the stool at the bar surrounded by Haitians. Yeah, I can imagine that would be peaceful. Then again, Shane is the type of crazy guy to try it. Start a fight with the biggest guy then offer to buy him a drink afterwards. All to say he did it so we can bring it up and laugh later on.
    I continue watching Shane walk to his new white 2008 Dodge Nitro. He parked right next to my 2003 maroon Chrysler 300m. My car was nice but he had to show me up by parking his brand-new car next to my kind-of-new car. He opens the driver’s door and climbs in. He reverses enough to get out of the parking spot and rolls down this window.
    “Twenty-two hundred, Thomas!” he yells out. “You better be there.”
    I cuff my hands together around my mouth. “No club gets the party jumping ‘til twenty-three hundred, Shane.” I see him smile and pull off. Sergeant Shane Shan. “Hmph!” that’s some name.
    I walk back inside and an old stale and citrus-like smell catches my nose. I walk over and check the small wastebasket under my sink. It’s full with orange peels at the top, so I grab the whole basket and head outside to the garbage dumpster on the opposite side of the parking lot.
    After the stroll across the lot I see an older white guy in the old green and black B.D.U’s jacket and a pair of black Levi jeans watching me in the distance. He was a little shorter than me, maybe mid-forties. He has a usual high and tight militant hair style with white hair. It’s unusual to see a bum on post. But, I can’t say he’s a bum. It’s something in his face, his eyes, he’s focused. I turn my attention to opening the lid on the dark brown dumpster and emptying my garbage. When I turn back around he was gone. It seemed suspicious for a second, but I pay it no more attention and return to my room. I look at my bed that was once perfectly made now has two sets of ripples from when me and Shane had sat. I laid in the bed to rest up, killing time before I go to the Coo Coo’s Nest.

 
     

    Fort Hood
    Killeen, Texas
    1/13/08
     
     
    Before I know it I’m dreaming of that hellhole that I just recently left, Iraq. I’m walking down the gravel roads of Camp Taji once again in the daytime. The sun almost simmers my skin, so the heat had to be somewhere in the 120’s. The high cement T-walls and barriers outline and separate the roads from the pod areas where soldiers resided in their trailers. I remember this day well, I had just got back on camp from a supply run to Balad. Having some downtime, I chose to get some