We spent ten days doing that. Half my men got frostbite, the other half suffered from hypothermia, and by the time we finished, my squad was reduced to just three or four men, all of whom ended up in the infirmary once we got back to base. Including me. The whole experience was just about the most ridiculous and idiotic thing the army ever made me do. And that’s saying something, because I’ve done a lot of idiotic things for good old Uncle Sam and the Big Red One. At the end, our commander walked through the ward, congratulating my squad on a job well done. I wanted to tell him that maybe our time would have been better spent learning modern war tactics or, at the very least, tuned in to the Weather Channel. But instead I offered a salute and an acknowledgment, being the good army grunt I am.
After that, I spent the next few uneventful months on base. Sure, we did the occasional class on weapons or navigation, and every now and then I’d wander into town for a beer with the guys, but for the most part I lifted tons of weights, ran hundreds of miles, and kicked Tony’s ass whenever we stepped into the boxing ring.
Spring in Germany wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be after the disaster we went through on maneuvers. Snow melted, flowers came out, and the air began to warm. Well, not really warm, but it rose above freezing, and that was enough for most of my buddies and me to throw on shorts and play Frisbee or softball outside. As June finally rolled around, I found myself getting antsy to return to North Carolina. Savannah had graduated and was already in summer school doing classes for her master’s degree, so I planned to travel to Chapel Hill. We would have two glorious weeks together—even when I went to see my dad in Wilmington, she planned to come with me—and I found myself feeling alternately nervous and excited and scared at the thought
Yes, we’d corresponded through the mail and talked on the phone. Yes, I’d gone out to stare at the moon on the first night it was full, and in her letters she told me she had, too. But I hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, and I didn’t have any idea how she’d react when we were face-to-face again. Would she rush into my arms when I got off the plane, or would her reaction be more restrained, perhaps a gentle kiss on the cheek? Would we fall into easy conversation immediately, or would we find ourselves talking about the weather and feeling awkward around each other? I didn’t know, and I’d lie awake at night imagining a thousand different scenarios.
Tony knew what I was going through, though he knew better than to call obvious attention to it. Instead, as the date approached, he slapped me on the back.
“Gonna see her soon,” he said. “You ready for that?”
“Yeah.”
He smirked. “Don’t forget to pick up some tequila on the way home.”
I made a face, and Tony laughed.
“It’s going to be just fine,” he said. “She loves you, man. She’s got to, considering how much you love her.”
Thirteen
In June 2001, I was given my leave and left for home immediately, flying from Frankfurt to New York, then on to Raleigh. It was a Friday evening, and Savannah had promised to pick me up at the airport before bringing me to Lenoir to meet her parents. She’d dropped that little surprise on me the day before the flight. Now, I had nothing against meeting her parents, mind you. I was sure they were wonderful people and all that, but if I had my way, I would rather have had Savannah all to myself at least for the first few days. It’s kind of hard to make up for lost time with the parents around. Even if we didn’t get physical—and knowing Savannah, I was pretty sure we wouldn’t, though I kept my fingers crossed—how would her parents treat me if I kept their daughter out until the wee hours, even if all we did was lie under the stars? Granted, she was an adult, but parents were funny when it came to their own kids, and I was under no illusions that they’d be understanding about the whole thing. She would always be their little girl, if you know what I mean.
But Savannah had had a point when she explained it to me. I had two weekends free, and if I planned to see my dad on the second weekend, I had to see hers the first weekend. Besides, she sounded so excited about the whole thing that all I could say was that I was looking forward to meeting them. Still, I wondered if I’d even be able to hold her hand, and I speculated about whether I could talk her into taking a little detour on the way to Lenoir.
As soon as the plane landed, my anticipation grew and I could feel my ticker booming. But I didn’t know how to act. Should I jog toward her as soon as I spotted her or stroll casually, cool and in control? I still wasn’t sure, but before I could dwell on it, I was in the cattle chute, moving up the aisle. I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder as I emerged from the ramp that accessed the terminal. I didn’t see her at first—too many folks milling around. When I scanned the area a second time, I saw her off to the left and realized instantly that all my worries had been pointless, for she spotted me and came running at full tilt. I barely had time to drop my duffel bag before she jumped into my arms, and the kiss that followed was like its own magic kingdom, complete with its special language and geography, fabulous myths and wonders for the ages. And when she pulled back and whispered, “I missed you so much,” I felt as if I’d been put back together after spending a year cut in half.