places: return toward the edge

I rented a room at a motor court to have a place to sleep. I had taken Rod Larkin’s leather satchel.  I hadn’t had time to inspect the case earlier.  I knew what was in the parcels now, I could use the cash.  The identities might come in handy again.

I found three pairs of leather gloves in my suitcase.  Camille had been kind enough to do some quick shopping for me. The leather gloves were in three different sizes, just to make sure I had a glove large enough to fit over my bandaged hand.

After a few days, my hand was on the mend. It wasn't as sore. I was a little limited in movement, not near as bad as I felt in Bastogne.  Our gloves then didn't protect us from the intense cold.  I had to manipulate a firearm through my socks. Damn, we were cold.  Nothing could get as bad as that.  If I could pull the trigger then, I can still pull it now.

I unwrapped the rifle and spread the olive drab blanket across the bed.  I disassembled it and cleaned it.  After tinkering with it, I decided to go find an out of the way place to shoot it, test the sites.  It had been a while.

I found a place.  I spent a couple of hours squeezing off rounds, knocking off some cans and bottles between 300 and 500 yards.  It wasn’t long before my confidence returned.  Cans and bottles make it seem like a game.  It’s a different experience all together when a human being is the target.  It’s a different thing all together.  You can’t hear them from a distance.  It’s kind of like watching a picture show, and only you know when it's the last frame a person’s life.

Killing is easy once you get used to it.  Sure they come back in your dreams, but they can’t touch you.  They’ll always be at a safe distance.  Squeeze it off, and they’ll drop from your site.  I had an aptitude for it. I made it into a lethal skill.

I once won a twenty five dollar War Bond for being the best shot in my company - 300 yards - eight out of nine shots.  I nailed everyone at two hundred.  The audience made me a little nervous.  I was better than that in those days.

There are differences now. I’m in a different wood with a different prey.  The biggest difference is that I am alone.  I have no comrades, I have no army.

I ended my afternoon sitting on the bed thinking of where I had been, and places I needed to go.

Sometimes when I am stressed - I have a hard time staying awake.  I visualized Camille’s face as I had left her. We parted with a brief kiss and hug. It was as if I were merely headed off to work.  It was hard to say anything at that moment.  Maybe she felt the same. We had said all we knew to say without crossing into the forbidden.  We did not want our conversation to reveal too much of our fears. I left her and did not look back.

 

I know to come back is a long shot.  Just let the doubts go and do the job. I can’t afford to hold on to maybe.  Just let go and do the job.

Somewhere in my thoughts I fell asleep.  I woke up on top of the covers three hours later.  I was still clothed and with my shoes on.  I was still clutching my rifle.

I got up, turned on the desk lamp to look at the map.