He walked into the Red Cross office with a smile and why not. He was tall good looking, athletic and right out of West Point. He was a Captain with a terrific looking wife at his side. She was tall tanned with dark hair and dark eyes that were alert. She was also a Captain and out of West Point. The gene pool was going to get improved down the road. They were getting ready to go on leave and were looking through the DVD’s that we lend out at the Red Cross in Bagram. They like everyone else on base were killing time by watching movies.
“Where are your from ?” I asked.
“We are from Ft. Carson, Colorado.” he said.
“Do you fly fish?” I asked. I can’t help myself as a guide and outfitter I am always selling trips. If I meet St. Peter at the Pearly Gates I will be asking him in five minutes if he fishes.
“Yes, we do.” He said. He smiled easily with confidence.
“ I live in Montana and take people fishing.” I said. I smiled easily but with less confidence. I wear the smile of an idiot savant.
He warmed to the idea of fishing. “We both fish but haven’t had a chance in the last couple of years.”
“We are on way to the Bahamas.” She said and smiled.
The television was in the background. It was on 24/7 operating like a collective conscious. They were talking about the surge.
“What you think about the surge?” I asked.
His wife pointed to her husband. “He is in doing missions in the middle of nowhere that are designed for 16 soldiers.” She said.
“We are doing them with 10 or 12 soldiers.” He said.
“ The Mission suffers. They require more soldiers if we don’t have the soldiers the others have to pick up the slack. More stress for the soldiers.” She said.
“I could use some more soldiers.” He said.
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