Tampa - Soldiers' Camp

While their officers partied and planned, the grunts of the 1st US Volunteer Infantry enjoyed a peaceful night together. Tampa was at least a preferable change of scenery from San Antonio, although it was just as warm and even muggier. And other than light drills, they had little to do but relax and engage in leisure activities. If nothing else, it was a nice break from

The men - and women - of the regiment fraternized amongst each other openly, most of their prejudices and earlier divisions forgotten for the moment. They were overseen by a handful of junior officers, including Captain Rick Holland, commander of D Company, a tough, hard-nosed veteran of Afghanistan. He was one of the more no-nonsense gentlemen in the 1st, and thus wouldn't be having a fun time at the party anyway - even if he'd been invited.

C.D., the man with the machette, had set up an X-Box and was playing Grand Theft Auto 4 and Halo on it. Several of the college students, most notably Kyle and Susie, were heavily engaged in these games.

Around a campfire sat a small group of individuals, including Charlie and Terry - now both Sergeants - Elizabeth, Matt and Dan, Beck (or Delta), Bunsher and Steven, Whalestoe and Sven, Chill Scotsdale, Miles Truelove, and Lieutenant Ack, a mincing, self-possessed little officer who had appointed himself regimental cook. Even though the regiment had a ready supply of MREs and food graciously supplied by patriotic citizens, he insisted that he was a gourmet chef, and kept rustling up the most unappetizing meals. Early in San Antonio, he had whipped together a quick stew out of thorn bushes, tarantulas and tobasco sauce; everyone who ate it died. Ever since then, the regiment had been weary of Ack's cooking, but he insisted on serving dishes of snake, spider, pheasant and anything else crawing or flying within his line of sight.

"Did you see the welcome we got coming down here?" Bunsher mused. "All these people turning out to see us off, waving flags and givin' us food and sweets and beer. It's like we're heroes already."

"We are heroes," Charlie declared. "We're fighting for a higher purpose than some rich oil man's profits. We're fighting for democracy, for freedom-"

"I second that," Dan - Corporal Walker - cut in. "We need to re-establish our military might. Certainly we've got a bad black eye from Iraq. Time for us to prove ourselves the conquer.

"You aren't fighting a war for Bush anymore," Truelove said cynically. "There won't be any democracy this time, just plain old American hegemony."

"Hege-what?" Chill asked.

"Somebody's been reading Noam Chomsky," Beck uttered under his breath.

Truelove ignored the remark and turned to his colleagues. "Tell me, why are you so eager for this war? Are you so eager to be shot, to have your young bodies torn to shreds before you've even properly come, to kill and maim thousands of men and women and snuff out your own lives before you're even of drinking age? And for what?"

There was a long, contemplative pause as those assembled pondered this. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire, the dim sound of dance music drifting from the Shafter hotel, and Lieutenant Ack shovelling his latest ambiguous creations into bowls.

"Well, it's better than Pitt," Terry replied.

"Here here!" Elizabeth said, raising a glass coffee in toast.

"Hell, I'm WELL past drinkin' age!" Bunsher replied, farting and burping.

Truelove turned to Beck. "Why are you here, John?" he asked.

Beck was silent, his eyes on the ground, pondering his response. "I've nothing better to do," he answered quietly, flashing the Corporal a look of contempt.

"Well, grub's ready," Ack interrupted. He started passing around bowls, but was disappointed when everyone turned his food down. Except Bunsher, who devoured his bowl and then passed gas with the force of an F5 tornado.

A petite, cheery red-haired girl walked by at this moment.

"Hey Angel," Truelove called to her. The girl walked over, smiling.

"Why is it that you're with us? Are you excited about the prospect of killing your fellow man?"

"Oh no, I detest violence," Angel said with disgust.

"Well, then quite funny to find you in the military, isn't it?" Truelove sneered. Charlie rephrased the question more gently. "Private Zamarry, why are you with us?"

"Because I don't abide genocide," Angel replied. "I went to Palacios a few summers ago on vacation, and I got to see firsthand what the Russians are doing. It's a beautiful island, with great people - but now they're all being killed for no reason. If I'm going to die for a cause, it might as well be for the freedom of my fellow man."

"I will drink to that," Dan murmured. "And to the United States of America."

"To President Obama," Charlie continued.

"Don't even go there," Dan warned.

At just this moment, Adnan - now a Sergeant Major - walked up to the campfire, having overheard the commotion.

"What are you doin' here, Canuck?" Bunsher asked. "This toast is for Americans only."

"Oh, come now, Bunsher," Charlie replied, "this toast is for all freedom-loving men of the world!"

"Why are you here, Canuck?" Steve continued. "This ain't your war, it's ours."

Adnan ignored the slur and smiled. He then glimpsed Beck sitting at the edge of the file, and his smile faded instantly.

"Because I have a job to do," he mumbled. Then he stalked off into the darkness, with Beck looking after him nervously, subconsciously fingering his handgun.

Miles' face still registered disgust and bewilderness at the patriotism, the bigotry, the foolhardy idealism and nationalism of his colleagues. "You realize that we fail in this in even the slightest way, all of us will be killed?" he bellowed.

"Yes," Terry answered, "and the whole world will probably go to war."

Charlie stood up and rose his coffee cup, offering a toast. "Gentlemen, if we failed and are killed, I certainly hope that the world DOES go to war!"

Everyone assembled raised their cups or bottles high, clinking them in a toast.

"The world at war," Dan mused, staring dreamily into the night sky.

"A world war?" Beck replied, finally adding his voice to the conversation. "Now THAT would be something to go out on..."