The long way home

 The long way home

"If you want to stop for coffee, lets stop at McDonald's" I suggested. I knew he liked their coffee, and it was fun to people watch.

When Howard got his coffee, I saw someone approaching us and saw it was our pastor, who is a fan of their coffee, too. Gesturing toward his table he invited us to sit down.

Somehow the topic of military service came up, and Howard did a double take when the preacher mentioned being station at Fort Bliss, Texas.

"Fort Bliss! I was there for my basic training!" Howard exclaimed. "When were you there?"

"From October to December in 1956," Pastor said. Howard's eyes grew wide, since those were the exact dates he was there. When they recovered from the coincidence, they couldn't bring up memories fast enough.

"Remember Castner Field and those tracer bullets?" one said. Oh, I'd heard all about crawling under machine gun fire, but here was somebody Howard could talk to who understood!

They recalled a certain drill sergeant, the food in the mess halls, bivouacs and guard duty, each memory accompanied by delight and hearty guffaws. I was caught in the middle of a barrage of army stories with shots being fired on each side of me.

"Aren't you glad I suggested McDonald's? I said in the car on the way home. Howard nodded with a half smile, still lost in reverie.

"Me, too," I said, knowing that there are some things only a fellow soldier could understand.