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Travels (Part 2)
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Travels (Part 2) |
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paraboxer Member
since 2002-11-10
Posts 121Maryland, USA |
Travels (Part 2) Continued from Chapter One: Traveler: “So anyway,” Jordan said, “Why did you join the Legion? I’m guessing you were running away from something.” “You could say that.” Arnot began, and with a sigh that told of nine years of angst and pain “Very well, I will tell you just a little as to what drew me to first commit five years of my life to a force that garrisons Earth’s most distant outposts. Then following those five years, what lead me to commit more years of my life with the United Systems Army in one of the most intense combat zones on the Earth.” ~ ~ ~ ~ I was born in Johannesburg, South Africa in September of 2116 to Charles and Anna Biegard. My father was French, my mother was a South African. I was born shortly after the Second Disorders that had swept the African continent earlier that century. And it was in the Johannesburg riots that my parents were killed when I was eight, leaving me an orphan. For nine years I resided in an orphanage where I was the victim of constant emotional abuse from a lady with the ironic last name of Mrs. Grudge. She had lost the mister in the Disorders when they swept through Africa. My physical needs were met but my emotional ones, not so. In fact I was often the pariah of the orphanage. Somehow I managed to escape with my sanity intact. I joined the light infantry as a boy soldier at the age of seventeen. But the Army was so flooded with new recruits at the time that they put me in the Territorial Army on a two year contract. But even in times of peace territorials can be called up because we have the occasional crisis on Earth. I would have had to wait until I was eighteen to get sent into South America because we had too many seventeen year olds get shot over there, particularly in Columbia. However since I was a territorial I only owed one weekend a month and at one field exercise every six months. During the South America Crisis of 2134-35 I got deployed just after my eighteenth birthday to Venezuela. I don’t know why the hell they called it a ‘crisis’ because once we were on the scene, whoever the troublemakers were that were sniping at the occasional policeman or fireman quit doing so when the Marines started deploying snipers around the towns at strategic locations. The South American Crisis was basically a babysitting job. The Marines did a lot of the fighting, they liked to joke the Army was there just for show. I didn’t care, as action hungry as we were in the TA (Territorial Army) we were secretly relieved we never had any contacts when we patrolled Caracas’ streets. The Marines had done a thorough job and all we were was the mop up operation. I went across the ocean into America to go attend the University. The name of the school isn’t any importance. All I want to say is when I reached campus I got caught up in the Second Bohemian Revolution my freshman year. I’d just turned nineteen years old when I reached the university and felt like an old man compared to the seventeen and eighteen year olds that were walking about as freshmen. And here I was, the old salty territorial soldier who’d been in a combat zone. Of course like an idiot I didn’t realize that the South American Crisis was just a couple gunfights with a pissant band of dissidents in Venezuela and Columbia that the presence of a unit of armed Marines easily won. Territorials weren’t very highly thought of by those using their GI Bills to pay for college. I just remember believing in my Bohemian Ideals. Truth. Beauty. Freedom. And that which I believed in above all else, love. Maybe it’s because it was denied me at an early age and I wanted it badly, I don’t know. But I remember my heart going out to someone early on in my freshman year. Her name’s Diane Schonke. She’s the girl in the picture I showed Jordan earlier. We met in English 101 and I remember she was on crutches due to a bad ankle. She was in tears about something, I can’t quite recall what about, but I resolved I’d befriend her. We became fast friends. There was a little coffee kiosk that we’d used to meet at during the week. We’d talk about all kinds of things, our families, where we grew up, our assignment for class. We’d run into each other on the weekends, but it was on Sunday morning Mass at 9 o’clock that I’d look forward to most. Like clockwork I could count on seeing her there. I’d always had a little bit of a casual interest/protective streak whenever she was concerned. ~ ~ ~ ~ 2145: “If you were interested in her, why didn’t you ask her out?” Jordan asked. “I’d found out she was crying about being hurt by her ex-boyfriend of two years, who was a year behind her in secondary school. He had been cheating on her for three months and just told her that he was dumping her the day before we met.” Arnot replied, “If the relationship didn’t pan out I didn’t want to see her hurt. I reasoned she needed a friend at the time, not a lover. If I had hurt her in any way I’d never forgive myself. It killed me to see her cry.” “You didn’t want to hurt a friend, that’s understandable.” Aaron said, “So what happened next?” Arnot was aware that people were starting to drift in to hear his story. At this point he had already told two people, so he didn’t care of more ears caught his tale. People seemed to be drawn to the angsty tale of the man whose voice was a combination of a South African and French accent. ~ ~ ~ ~ I fell in love with Diane in December of 2135, four months after we had first met. We were at the airport, waiting for our flights to our respective destinations. I ran into her completely by accident and the book I had bought to pass the time before I was to head to Australia with my buddy, Mark Rigby was quickly forgotten as we sat down at a little coffee kiosk in the airport and over hot chocolate for her and a cup of coffee for me we talked about our holiday plans. ~ ~ ~ ~ “So what are you reading Arnot?” Diane asked me. “I’m reading Les Miserables, Victor Hugo.” I replied. “A little grim for the holidays, don’t you think?” Diane asked. “It depends.” I reply, “My holidays in the orphanage weren’t exactly blessings, considering I wasn’t the favorite of Mrs. Grudge, the lady that ran it. But to make up for it, I had the Mackenzie family, they lived in Johannesburg. They were trying to adopt me but Mrs. Grudge was doing everything to make it difficult.” “Arnot, you lived through so much, yet you managed to be the nice guy that you are. It’s amazing.” Diane replied. “What about you? What are you doing over break?” I asked. “I’m visiting my family in Indiana, spending time with my old friends.” Diane replied, “You?” “I’m heading to Australia with an old mate of mine from 3rd Battalion, 8th South African Light Infantry Division.” I replied, “His name’s Mark Rigby, he was part of our combat engineering detachment. Basically he built fortifications and made stuff go boom.” “Sounds fun.” Diane replied, then she looked at her watch and said, “Well, Arnot, it’s time for my flight. I can’t believe we just spent three hours just talking. I’ll let you get back to your book.” “It was my pleasure, and besides I can pick up the book any time, but talking to a good friend is an opportunity that can’t always be infinitely available.” Arnot replied. ~ ~ ~ ~ By the end of the three hour wait for her flight I felt utterly light on my feet, amazed I’d fallen in love with such a wonderful girl. I had no idea of what would follow a few months later. She’d helped me get through an arduous emotional crisis during my second semester as my almost big-sister Sandy died on her life guarding job in Capetown in an accident. Over the summer I remember I thinking I had to let her know I was in love with her. I remember we were studying for an exam in one course we were taking; I think it was a French course. It being my second language I was able to help her out with it as get myself an easy A. We both did well on the subsequent exam and then I remember going over the her room in the dormitory to help her with some homework. I remember what happened next like it was yesterday. ~ ~ ~ ~ I was planning on asking her if she wanted to have dinner and see a movie on Friday night. It was so perfect. The way the light in the room seemed to make Diane’s brown hair lustrous and shiny; her eyes seemed to be alive and sparkling. The scent of lilacs in just the right amount was exotic but not overpowering. She always wore the right amount. “Hey, Arnot, have you ever met Chris Osmond, my boyfriend?” Diane asked. “No, I haven’t.” I replied. Inwardly I could feel maybe I’d just heard wrong, I was in Kubler Ross’ Denial phase. I saw a picture of the two of them, lying face down side by side, sunning themselves on the deck of a sailboat. “We met at summer school. At first I didn’t like him, because he wouldn’t leave me alone and then he came and visited me over my vacation. It was so sweet.” I heard the gist of what she said, but I was too busy trying to look like I was happy when my heart felt like it was being ripped in half. That night, after excusing myself I walked back from her place to my dorm room in the pouring rain. Ironically it was September 2136, a week after my twentieth birthday, one year to the day I had met Diane that my kindness was repaid in full with my angst. I wasn’t angry at her. I sadly realized a pact I’d made with myself, that if I had to sacrifice my happiness for Diane to not be hurt for even an instant I’d sacrifice it. Despite all the pain I felt, I knew Diane was happy. That’s all I wanted her to feel, happy, special, and loved, even if it wasn’t from me she was feeling it from. I couldn’t smile for days afterward. My room mates stopped giving me sympathy a week after it happened, telling me to, “Get over it dude.” ~ ~ ~ ~ 2145: “So what happened next?” an older man asked. “I wandered about in a drunken stupor for three days over a long weekend and that Tuesday I never went back to school. I flew across the Atlantic for France and enlisted in the Colonial Legion.” Arnot replied. ~ ~ ~ ~ October 2136: “Legio Patria Nostra.” I read to myself, “The Legion is our Homeland.” It seemed perfect for a heartbroken, disenchanted Bohemian. I was slightly intimidated by the imposing military compound. A ten meter brick wall with prominent shards of glass sticking upward into the sky out of the concrete ringed the place with only a heavy wood gate with a single guard standing duty with a pulse rifle. I handed the sentry a note saying I wanted to join the Legion Etrangere. He obligated me and I was lead into an office with a Sergent (sergeant) sitting behind it. He wore an olive drab uniform with a black kepi with five thing gold bands ringing the top area with a gold seven flamed grenade on the front. “You understand, mon ami, that when you sign the contract it is five years unless you are found medically or mentally unsuitable for further service.” The Sergent replied. “Oui monsieur.” I replied and without hesitation I put my name on the dotted line and therefore put myself into the Legion’s fold. ~ ~ ~ ~ “What was the fiercest battle you’d ever been in?” a thirteen year old girl asked me. Her little brother had an inquiry or two of his own, “What was basic training like? Did they beat you up? Starve you? Put anyone on the firing squad?” “I’ll get to that soon, just give a moment.” Arnot replied, checking his watch, still another couple hours till his flight. He might as well tell his story, because he was drawing a small crowd of other passengers that were likely on this aircraft. |
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aussie teen Member
since 2003-09-27
Posts 396Australia |
keep on with the story..... its coming along really really nicely..... keep it up.... Mel |
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Brad Majors 
since 2001-04-03
Posts 2647Georgia |
well done |
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