Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Sweger part 2

We sat in front of the armory cleaning weapons in Okinawa Japan. Fallujah was over; our days were easy as third platoon waited to finally go home. The base bugle sounded colors and we set our weapons down and snapped to the position of attention. The first song was the Japanese national anthem and base regulation mandated that we salute. I stood at attention with many others, refusing the salute. I felt guilty saluting a flag that had been captured by past and passed brothers and felt the conquered blacktop beneath my boots. When our national anthem played the rest of us saluted.
After colors I turned in my clean weapon and traded it for another. The armory custodian handed me the new gun, he had been a machine gunner replacement for a wounded squad in third platoon during Fallujah. We smiled and we had that brother understanding. I returned to my weapon cleaning, I broke the weapon down like I had been taught in bootcamp, I could have three rifles inspection ready in an hour. I moved from the rifle bore to the outer exterior, working my way down and never up, the dust and carbon flakes would fall to the ground. I picked up the stock and the catch was broken, I inspected inside beyond the plastic door that swung loosely. Inside the compartment were skull fragments and dry blood. I swore and tossed the stock to the ground. The blood ran from my face. I had heard a rumor that the armory custodian might have shot him on accident, that story made sense when the accused requested to clean the weapon of the dead awkward man surprised to death by a jack in the box. I asked the custodian to check the serial number of the rifles previous owner. He said his name and I handed him the weapon to finish cleaning.

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