Sam Drucker watched the well-built neatly groomed young man once again trudge past his small grocery store. Well, trudge wasn’t really the word for the movement. The young man was on foot, true, but he was moving at a right smart clip, Sam thought. He moved with purpose, as if he had a mission that was time sensitive. It was already hot this mid-July morning, and the sweat was rolling off the man Sam was watching. He and his friends were sweating slightly, just sittin’ and whittlin’. Sam could imagine how much worse the young man was perspiring. Of course, he didn’t really have to imagine because he would see the large wet spots on his shirt as he moved past the store. Sam shook his head in consternation. He couldn’t remember when anyone in Hooterville walked as much as that man did and moved with his speed.

Sam, and three of his friends and customers, were sitting on the rickety wooden porch watching the hot sun beat down on the already too dry grass growing up through the cracks in the wooden sidewalk. It was only 9:00 AM, and the heat was shimmering up off the dusty street. It was sure going to be a scorcher. Occasionally, one of the men would say something or spit his chew into the dust before returning their attention to their whittlin’ or the dusty street.

When the young man came into view, they transferred their attention to him. The darkly tanned leathery-skinned young man seemed not to notice the heat or much else, but all four of the men sitting in the rickety old chairs knew better. At one time or another each had seen the man react to some stimulus or another and when he reacted, he moved wicked fast. They had all been in the service during wartime and knew all about situational awareness. That young man had it in spades. He missed nothing and they were reasonably sure he would not put up with any crap from anybody. He hadn’t made many friends in town, but that was mostly because he was a loner. When he came to town on business he was always polite and well mannered. No one had one thing against him. They didn’t know him well enough for that. Those who knew him best, like Sam, liked him just fine.

The young man showed up out of the blue one hot summer day the year before and moved into the vacant Simmons house just past the edge of town. No one seemed to know where he came from or why he was there. Since property transfers were a public matter, the town soon found out the man’s name was Thomas (Tom) Porter, and he paid cash for the old farm. The place had been for sale nigh-onto six years and no one locally could afford it. No one from out of town wanted to move to the small community and live in such a shack. In truth, most of the town folk at one time or another wondered why some high-roller didn’t purchase the small thirty-acre plot, tear the house down, then build a mansion or another hotel. There were several hotels a little farther along the Tennessee River where the businessmen and well-to-do from Chattanooga stayed. They surrounded a large marina and beautiful golf course on the lake. What none of them knew was the land sold with restrictions in the deed preventing commercial development for the next fifty years. The old couple who owned the land didn’t want it ruined and commercialized until they were safely in their grave. They kept ten acres of the original forty and built a small retirement home on it. They wanted to see their old farm the way they remembered it and wouldn’t budge on the restrictions, so the land remained on the market for those many years.

In fact, the old stone building overlooking the river on the back of the property was probably in better shape than the house when Tom bought the place. From time to time, someone would notice that Tom did some repair work on the old farmhouse. It was slowly being brought back to better shape. Tom was still a mystery to most, however. He walked everywhere he went around the area, but he owned an older Ford Ranger Super Cab FX4 that appeared to be in excellent shape. Excellent shape hell, the damn truck looked showroom new.

There were times when Tom was not seen or heard from for two or three weeks at a time, then all at once, he would be seen moving around his property once again or trudging around town. He was gone many weekends, or at least out of sight. When someone saw him outside and stopped to visit he would talk to them, but they got the impression his heart really wasn’t in the conversation. Now, more often than not, neighbors only waved when they saw him. He seemed to like it that way.

On this day, the men watched as Tom walked, almost trotted, past the small store and into the Post Office. He reappeared a few moments later carrying a hand full of mail and walked back toward the store. His next observed stop was the small bank. They could see him through the window as he talked to the teller, Mrs. Peters. She watched him fill out a withdrawal slip, then she counted out the requested money to him. None of that modern ATM crap in Hooterville! After Tom took his cash, he put it into his wallet, said something to Mrs. Peters, smiled and left the bank.

Soon, Tom once again was back out on the street trudging along. Trudging, heck, Tom walked with a purpose, rapidly as he usually did; his hawk like gaze missing nothing. After he left the bank, he cut cross the street headed for the store. When he stepped onto the boardwalk it creaked and the boards bowed downward from his weight. He gave the men a quick smile and said, “Morning Mr. Drucker, gentlemen.”

Tom didn’t slow down his steady pace as he walked past the men and into the slightly cooler store building. It, like most of the other businesses and not a few of the homes locally, was not air-conditioned. Tom was out of sight before the men’s return greetings reached his ears. When Sam followed Tom into the building he saw Tom’s mail now bulging out one of his front pants pockets and Tom standing just inside the door as his eyes adjusted to the almost dark interior of the building. After his sight adjusted to the darkness (Sam refused to spend money on lights during the day and that was that), Tom wandered around the small store taking items off the shelves. When he got his hands full, he placed the items on the counter then walked back to the shelves for more.

Tom put a load onto the counter and stood looking at Sam. Finally, Sam mentally shook himself and asked, “Will that be all Tom?”

“Yeah, guess so. This ought to be enough for a few more days. Don’t know how much I need at a time.”

Sam tallied up the purchases and watched as Tom pulled cash from his wallet to pay. After Sam put the groceries into a bag, Tom pulled his mail from his pocket and put it into the bag with the groceries. He shrugged off the backpack he was wearing and put his bag of groceries and mail into it, then put it back on. He turned to leave and said, “See ya later Mr. Drucker.”

“You have a good day Tom. Come back when ya can sit a spell. And I done told ya to call me Sam.”

“I’ll try to do that sir. Thanks.”

Sam followed Tom out the door and stood watching as he turned toward his house and began walking rapidly down the side of the road. After he watched for a short time, Sam reclaimed his chair beside his friends. One of the men looked down the road at Tom and said, “There goes a real strange man. He’s even stranger than that Douglass feller that bought the old Haney place.”

All the men nodded their heads at that comment and one of them said “Yup. That there boy is weird as they come, I’m a thinkin’.” The speaker leaned over and spit his chew into the dust beside the porch, then continued, “I had an ole sow droppin’ piglets coupla nights ago. I was out in the pen helpin’ her out and I heared a slappin and a thumpin’ noise out on tha road. Mah dogs begin ta barkin’ up a storm and run towards tha road. It was just getting onta daybreak and I stepped out to see what was goin’ on. There come that boy runnin’ down the road and headin’ away lickedy split. Heck, he was already nigh onto three miles from his place and still goin’ away. Moved faster than scat, like something was chasin’ him. Musta been half hour later I saw him comin’ back and let me tell ya, he hadn’t slowed down none atall. I watched him tear on down the road headin’ back to his place and he wasn’t even hardly breathin’ hard, far as I could tell.”

One of the other men looked down the road at Tom’s barely discernable figure and said, “Yep. I been seein’ him arunnin ‘round most every mornin’, too. Most days he has on that same pack he was wearing today and it looks full. He has one a them backpack things filled with water, too.”

After about 15 minutes of fast walking, sometimes almost trotting, Tom turned into the driveway of his house. He felt the tenseness draining from his lanky 6-foot frame as he walked down his lane. He could feel the change of temperature as he walked into the shade and down into the lower ground headed toward his house. When he walked into the shade at the road his pace slowed to what was, for him, a slow amble as he soaked up the peacefulness of his home and cooled down from his trip to town. He still had work to do, but he needed groceries and wanted to get them before the day got any hotter, so he made the early trip to town. After he put the groceries away and ate lunch, he planned on working in his garden for a couple of hours. After that, he was going down to the river on the back of his place for a swim and to try to catch some fish. The sun should be setting about then and the fish would be biting better.

As he walked he thought about the trail he was on. He loved the way it looked and all, but he was contemplating trimming back some of the brush and trees. When he took his truck out the limbs would slap the windshield from each side and he really, really didn’t want to take a chance of scratching up the paint job on it. He had paid cash for it after saving almost all of his take home pay from his first two years in the army. Damn, that had been over fourteen, shit, nearly fifteen years ago now. It and his little plot of ground was almost all he owned to his name. At least they were all paid for. He was better off than most people his age: shit, he would be 35 his next birthday, even if he didn’t have any furniture or a wife.

When he rounded a corner in the trail he slowed down even more and looked at his little house. It was a typical older farmhouse built in the late 1920’s or early 1930’s, what was called a shotgun house, because it was a long rectangular shape with two bedrooms on one side and the living area and kitchen on the other. If you stepped in the front or back door and fired a shotgun you could take out everyone in the building. It wasn’t typical of the old shotgun houses, though, because it was built into the side of a hill and had a half-basement that exited on the downhill side of the house. At some time, the owner built a covered deck over the long side of the house and over the exit and windows for the basement. The deck overlooked a small stream or large spring rolling down the little valley toward the mighty Tennessee River that was the southern boundary of his farm. In the winter, he could see the river and one of the many TVA lakes glinting through the leafless trees, but not so much in the summer.

When he stepped into the yard he was facing the end of the house with a covered porch, the deck side of the house to the left and his garage to the right of his house. The yard was neatly mowed and there were some old lilac, crepe-myrtle and japonica bushes scattered around, but no flowers. A large garden could be seen downhill along the small stream. His driveway continued past the house and along the stream, eventually ending up at the bank of the river. It passed an old stone building on a small bluff overlooking the river, then meandered down a gulley to the end. It was the remains of a road that existed in old times, but was now closed and returned to the landowners.

Tom walked up onto the still rickety wooden porch, opened his door and walked into the house. He never bothered locking the door. He had nothing to steal except a nice notebook computer, and he kept it in a safe when he wasn’t using it because he used it for work. Other than that, he had one old recliner and side table, a bookcase, dinette table and two mismatched chairs in the kitchen (along with an old, old cook stove and refrigerator) and his old bed and dresser in the bedroom. No other furniture graced the house, unless you counted the two old home-made chairs on the deck. He had sprung for an ungodly expensive mattress for the bed, but who would steal a man’s mattress? He felt it was justified because a man needed a good night’s sleep to function to his potential.

Tom quickly put his purchases away and poured himself a large glass of unsweetened iced tea. He didn’t care if he was in the south. He hated the sickly sweet tea commonly offered as a drink by (it seemed) everyone who served tea. After drinking several large swallows of the tea he sighed contentedly, refilled his glass and walked out onto the deck to rest a moment and read his mail before he made his lunch and began his work in the garden.

Tom sorted the mail and opened the most important envelope first. The return address was from the Department of the Army, although he knew it was from the National Guard. When got the envelope opened he saw it contained what he thought it would. It was another set of orders to Active Duty. This time it was for a month of duty assisting a unit preparing for mobilization for a tour in “the sandbox”. He was to report a week from this coming Tuesday. Tom sat contemplating his career. He really liked most of the men in the Guard and Reserve as well as most of those he met in the army, but he was sure getting tired of the stresses of his position and the deployments. He had been deployed, personally, to three tours in the Global War on Terrorism, and had an unfathomable number of shorter tours like the one coming up. Of course, the money was good and the retirement would be better when he was 60 or if he managed to add up more than twenty years active duty. Right now his total active time stood at slightly over 9 years and he still had three years to go before he got his 20 years Guard time. In today’s dollars, the retirement for him as a CW4 (Chief Warrant Officer 4) with his active time would be in the neighborhood of $2,400 per month with all his credits considered. Then, at 62 he could cash in on Social Security. His retirement would be sweet with plenty of money and good health care.

At present, the work was such a chore he had to force himself to continue. He planned to retire as soon as he got his good 20 years in. Unfortunately, he had no idea what he would do at that point. His only income now was his pay from the Military and the short tours he took, and a little interest. He was able to live off his take home from the Guard and the interest he earned from the remainder of the small inheritance he received when his parents died. He had almost $93,000 in long-term bonds paying about $6000 per year interest. He lived well, but he had to figure out something to do in three years when he retired. He would only be 38, so would have 21 or 22 years before his pension would start.

Tom let his mind rest and sat looking over his deck railing at the garden. He enjoyed the beautiful view and quietness for a moment, then his mind began thinking about the Guard once more. This month of Active Duty was not coming at the best possible time, but he knew that when he agreed to take it. Much of his garden crop would be ready to pick while he was gone. He supposed he would see if the Dawson’s wanted to pick the vegetables. They were nice people and could probably use the produce. Their only income was their small Social Security checks. They had used the entire amount he paid for the 30 acres to pay off their retirement house on the ten acres they kept. At least they were debt free and could probably live on their small checks if they had to. Since he moved in he made sure he took extra produce to them, when he picked more than he could use. He did wish he could raise some chickens and maybe a steer or two and some hogs. Meat and dairy products really killed his budget, and he was getting tired of fish and the occasional wild game he shot. It was cheap eating though.

That evening after he finished his work in the garden, Tom walked down the trail through the woods to the Dawson’s new home instead of heading right to the river to fish. He was carrying a small bag of tomatoes and a few ears of early corn on the cob. Elijah and Carolyn were sitting on their porch enjoying the setting sun with their iced tea.

Tom smiled when he stepped into the yard and started to speak when Elijah yelled, “Howdy there, Tom. Come on up here and sit a spell with me and Carolyn. Ya want some nice cold iced tea?”

“Hello Elijah, Carolyn. Don’t mind if I do as long as it’s no trouble for you. I brought you some extra tomatoes and fresh corn. It sure has been good this year already.”

Carolyn jumped up and took the vegetables from Tom when he got to the porch. She said, “You just sit right down there and I’ll put these up when I get your tea. It’s sure good to see you again. Where you been the last week?”

“It’s good to see you, too, ma’am. I’ve been around. Working mostly, and getting my exercise in, too. I have to run before it gets light enough to see to beat the heat.”

Elijah and Carolyn both laughed and Elijah said, “We already knowed that, son. We see ya trottin’ down the road most mornings. How far do ya run now?”

“It varies, but usually about eight or ten miles for sure. Then I do 45 minutes or an hour of exercises and my katas. I’m usually done and ready to have breakfast by 8:30 or 9:00. I work in the garden after breakfast until it gets too hot, then I just loaf the rest of the day.”

Elijah laughed and said, “Sure ya do son. I’ve seen you out clearing brush or doing other work lotsa evenings, too.”

Tom looked sheepish and said, “Well, sometimes but that’s not really working. I’m just bored or I see something I want to change and I get on it for a while. It’s more like a hobby or something.”

“Well you call it whatever you want, boy. It sure looks like work to me and you sure have a heavy sweat most times I see you. Now, what brings you around here today? Not that we’re not glad to see ya.”

“Well I got word today I have to be gone for a month, beginning Tuesday. I was wondering if you would mind watching the place and picking the vegetables that need it while I’m gone.”

“Sure, we can do that. Don’t have much else to do now we’re retired. Just have to keep up our little garden spot and take care of the critters. Sure is nice to only have a couple dozen hens and the one old sow. Think I’m gonna buy a steer to fatten up this summer, though. Won’t be no trouble at all to watch over your place. Ya going to be doing anything fun while ya’re gone?”

“Oh, I expect I’ll enjoy some of the time, but I think it’s going to be some long hours and short nights. Pay’s good, though.”

“You said when you moved in here you worked in logistics, making sure inventories and supplies were available when they were needed and things were stored correctly. What kind of business do you work in that you can come and go like you do if ya don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s no secret I guess, I’m in the Guard and work out of State headquarters. I’m a Chief Warrant Officer. I do everything from inspections to helping units set up and keep their supply records in compliance with Army and National Guard Regulations. I also assist units that are being mobilized for tours of active duty. I have a unit that is being mobilized I have to assist this month.”

“Oh, I guess that explains all the exercising and running you been doing. Soldiers gotta stay in shape. At least they did when I was one.”

Tom laughed and said, “You can say that again. I love a lot of things about my job, but sometimes I sure get tired of the exercising and other crap. I get to work with some fine soldiers, though, and that makes a difference.”

Tom was assisting an Engineer battalion mobilize on this tour. He had some problems with them in the past because they were weak in the supply area. They had some fine young people in the jobs, but the senior sergeants were lazy and didn’t stay on top of the job in two of the subordinate companies. The battalion S-4 (Supply Officer) and his crew did their best to help, but being part time people, the job was just too large for them to keep up with everything. The full-time shop worked with the two companies, but for some reason, couldn’t keep them up to snuff. Tom was of the opinion it was because of incompetent people in the subordinate units.

Tom spent the majority of his time with the two deficient companies and slowly began to get their situation straightened out. The Captain S-4 was a big help, but there again, he was somewhat deficient and lacking in job knowledge because he was only part time until they had been mobilized. Three days before the unit was to leave home station, they worked until nearly one AM (0100) before quitting. The soldiers in the supply area were then allowed to go home and told to return at 0800 the next morning.

Most of the men stayed in the Armory or local motels if they didn’t live in town. Tom set up a cot and slept in the S-4’s office. Shortly before 0700 the next morning the Battalion Commander awakened him. Tom had known the man almost since his first day in the Guard. They were friends as well as fellow soldiers.

When he came fully awake, Tom stood respectfully and said, “Sorry, Sir. How may I help the Colonel?”

“Don’t give me that crap, Tom. I’ve been up almost all night and I don’t need any of your shit.”

Tom stiffened to attention, even being out of uniform and said, “Yes Sir.”

The LTC (Lieutenant Colonel) sighed and sat in one of the chairs in front of the S-4’s desk. He said, “I’ve spent the last two hours on the phone talking about you and pulling strings, Tom. I have some bad news, and I suppose you may be pissed at me for what I’ve done to you but I think it is for the best for the unit. Oh, hell, stop standing around like an idiot and take a seat. I don’t care if you’re dressed or not. I interrupted your sleep and I know it.”

Tom sat in the other visitor’s chair and looked at the Commander worriedly. “Yes Sir,” He said once again.

The Colonel rubbed his eyes then stood and walked to the door. He opened it, stuck his head out and yelled, “Sergeant Major. Find someone to bring the Chief and me some coffee, please.”

“Yes Sir.”

LTC Crockett closed the door once again and resumed his seat. He sighed heavily and said, “I hadn’t much more than got to sleep last night when I received a phone call. Captain Jones had an accident on his way home last night and is in critical condition. After they stabilized him he was evacuated to Ft. Benning for further treatment. I now need an S-4 for this unit and I need one yesterday. The Guard, right now, as you probably know, is woefully short of qualified officers for that position. Tom, I pulled every string I could and have approval for you to be appointed as our new S-4. You will be going with us for this tour. I did manage to sweeten the pot for you, though. I convinced S-1 (Personnel) and your normal supervisors to generate a special Officer Evaluation Report and then send your name up for immediate consideration for promotion to CW5. Luckily, you meet minimum time-in-grade requirements and are eligible for consideration for a below the zone promotion. I was assured they would make sure the board selects you. I hate to think of all the markers I have out now because of you. I’m afraid it will take some time for the board to meet and the papers to come down, but since the board is already selected, you should be on the selection list in a couple of months. I know it is unusual for something like this to happen, selecting you below the zone and all, but you’re going to earn it and you already deserve it. I even thought about trying to get you a direct commission to captain and we may still go that route if we have to. I have already checked and you meet all the qualifications.”

Tom sat silently for a moment. He felt empty, then, he felt almost betrayed, angry even. Damn it, he had already been three times! He was sick and tired of this shit. Quickly, he got control of his emotions. Fuck, he was a soldier. A part-time, citizen soldier for sure, but a soldier and a damn good one. He told himself, ‘shut up and soldier, soldier’. He looked at his friend and now, commander and said, “Yes Sir. Is Captain Jones going to be okay? And, I will need to go back home to pick up the rest of my uniforms and close my house before we leave.”

LTC Crockett smiled tiredly and said, “They think the Captain will fully recover, but it will take several weeks or months. You may return home any time you feel you can take the time, but don’t spend long there. We still have a lot to do before we depart.”

“Yes Sir. I’ll get everyone busy and take off later today or tomorrow, at the latest. I should be able to make it there and back in 24 hours if I leave early in the morning.”

As soon as the supply section arrived for work that morning Tom called them together. He told them about the accident and informed them he had been appointed the S-4 for the deployment. After the expressions of sorrow and congratulations were dealt with he gave assignments to his Battalion shop and the supply personnel from the subordinate companies. After he was sure everything was progressing as he wished, he told his senior Sergeant, a Master Sergeant, that he was leaving for his home in order to collect the remainder of his gear and take care of closing the place down for the upcoming year.

Tom arrived home well after dark that evening and fell into bed immediately. The next morning he woke up to someone banging on his door. He pulled his pants on and stumbled to the door. He saw Elijah standing there when he opened the door. Elijah said, “I thought ya was gonna be gone for a month, Tom. Are ya back for good now?”

“Hello, Elijah. Good to see you. Come on in. I’m afraid I hadn’t gotten around yet. I need some coffee. Can I make you some, too?”

“Don’t mind if I do. I’ve already taken care of the garden. You want me to leave it fer ya?”

“No, Elijah, there’s no need. I just came home for the rest of my uniforms and to clean out the refrigerator. I’m afraid my plans have changed and I’m going to be gone a year or so. One of the officers in the unit I was helping was injured in an accident and they cut orders for me to replace him. I’m going back to the sand box again. Could you and Carolyn keep watching my place for me again? Of course, you can have all the garden truck. I have to pack and be back on the road as soon as I can today.”

“Well, shore we can. You let us know if you need anything else, son. Don’t worry about things here. We’ll see to it fer ye.” They visited so long Carolyn got worried and came hunting Elijah. She knocked at the door, and after the greeting and an explanation to her, they visited until the coffee pot was empty. Elijah and Carolyn left for home and Tom cleaned up and prepared his home for his long absence, packed his bags and was back on the road by noon. Neither of the men thought about getting Tom’s address for Elijah.

The next few weeks rushed past. Not only was Tom settling into his new job, but he had to correct deficiencies in all the books and paperwork for each of the units. He was appalled at the state of their records. Much of the equipment was missing components, some of the inventory that was supposedly there, wasn’t; many records were either missing or completed incorrectly. He had to document the shortfalls, report them to the commander and order replacements. The commander then appointed an officer to investigate the shortfalls and assign blame for the discrepancies. Many of the people signed for the missing and damaged equipment were forced to pay for it. This, of course, didn’t endear Tom to them, but it was the Army way, by the book. He became known not only as a very knowledgeable S-4, but as a hard-ass, also.

Four months after arriving in Afghanistan, the orders came through promoting Tom to CW5 (Chief Warrant Officer 5), the highest Warrant Officer grade in the army. During the evening Battalion Officers’ Call he was promoted and they had a small party for him.

At the six month mark, the supply department of the battalion and all the subordinate companies was humming. They went from, arguably, the worst to the best and Tom found himself almost bored because of lack of work. Occasionally one of the vehicles and some equipment was damaged by enemy action, but it didn’t present a problem for the S-4 section. All the soldiers knew how to handle the problem and took it in stride. What they did have trouble with was when someone they knew was injured, and once, when two of them were killed.

Finally, a year after he was called up, supposedly for 30 days, the time came for the advance party to leave Afghanistan for the states. Their job was to prepare the way for the return of the unit. Happiness and excitement rushed through the Battalion headquarters and subordinate units. Tom and the remainder of the officers had some trouble keeping their soldiers focused on the task at hand.