Dancing-with-Baptists-Createspace-Final--A4

DANCING WITH BAPTISTS
Greg put the book down. He would have to finish it another time.
Greg looked out at the passing parade of fences, rocks, and Burma Shave signs aglow in the
setting sun and slowly nodded off.
“Medic! Medic! Get over here!” the Major shouted.
Greg slid along the wet earth, dragging his bag. His NCO had scratched off the Red Cross on his
helmet before he left camp.
“Gooks think it’s funny to aim at these. There.
Now you may make it a week or two.”
The humor turned dark the moment Greg got to
his duty station. When death is the punch line there is no reason for the set-up to be subtle.
Once Greg reached the wounded soldier, the Major grabbed Greg’s right hand and shoved it up to his
wrist into the wounded boy’s abdomen.
“Feel the bleeder?”
“I think so.”
“Then stop it and keep it stopped ‘til someone gets here with a stretcher.” The Major stood and started
yelling obscenity-laced commands at kids too young to get into a Grateful Dead concert.
here.”
With his fist again up to his watch in a Marine, Greg thought to himself, “I’m not supposed to be
“Sergeant, Sergeant,” the bus driver shook Greg’s shoulder. “This is Las Cruces.”
Instinctively Greg checked his hands for blood and then thanked the bus driver as he came
back to New Mexico and reality.
Greg stayed awake the rest of the trip. He didn’t need another unconscious trip to the Delta.
Every part of his life was now in front of him, Interstate10 all the way to Houston.
-------------------------
The bus driver stood and said in a loud voice,
“This is Seguin, folks. This will be our last stop before Houston. You might want to get a bite here and
not pay those Houston prices.”
Greg thought he would just stay on the bus. But he had enough money for a sandwich. The
“Mayor’s Special” had worn off and the bus was still three hours from Houston. All of his fellow
travelers were already inside Kirby’s Korner Kactice Kafe before he walked in the door. There was one
empty table, but it was a table for six.
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