Chapter 6: Afternoon

He led her back out of his quarters and over to a section of the camp she hadn’t seen yet. There were smells of cooked food coming from one of the buildings. Anderson walked in, stopping to take a look around. This looked similar to every other military chow hall he’d been in, but with a difference. He stepped up to the line, taking a tray, then pointed to them for el-Azizi to take one as well.

“Good morning, Blankenship,” Anderson said to the woman behind the counter. He took the ladle and put scrambled eggs on his tray, then bacon, and then took a couple of biscuits and broke them open, putting sausage gravy on them. He looked back at where el-Azizi was looking at the cafeteria style food with disgust. “You’re allowed, since the choice is either eat, or starve to death. Chapter sixteen, verse one fifteen.”

Her eyes opened again at his knowledge, she took some eggs and a biscuit with gravy. Anderson led her to a table, where silverware and napkins were already waiting. He looked over at the drink table, where another woman stood. “McDaniel. Two coffees, black.”

“Yes, Sir!” the woman said. She filled two ceramic cups with coffee and brought them over, placing them on the table for them, then returned to the coffee urns.

Looking around, el-Azizi realized she was the only woman seated in the room. There were about a dozen troops inside, two women standing behind the counter, and one at the coffee urn. Her stomach growled, letting her know that ration bar last night hadn’t gone very far, considering the exercise she’d been doing this morning.

Anderson ate his food in silence, watching her eat. It didn’t take him long to finish. When he was done, McDaniel came over and took his tray, handing it to a woman behind the counter. He then had her get him a second cup of coffee. When el-Azizi was finished, she started to stand up. McDaniel quickly ran over and took her tray as well.

“Sir, I don’t understand. This room isn’t large enough for even one barracks of women.”

“Nope, you’re right. Want some more coffee? McDaniel? Another refill here.”

The woman quickly ran over, taking the cup and refilling it, then bringing it back. Before she could leave, Anderson said, “McDaniel, how was your Barracks last night?”

“Oh! Sorry, Sir, you startled me. Sergeant Hall told us no unnecessary talking. It was fine, Sir. It’s better than I thought it would be, after talking with you yesterday.”

“I see. I take it you weren’t expecting that.”

“No, Sir. I’ve seen some movies over the years, and I was expecting something like a World War Two prison camp, maybe something like what they put Jews in. This is much nicer than that.”

“Thank you. You can go back to your duties.”

“Yes, Sir!” She ran over to another table, where two of the troops wanted refills on their coffees.

Smiling, Anderson said, “Again, you’re puzzled. We’re the guards. We’re not waiters, not cooks, not servants. If there’s something other than guarding that needs done in this camp, it’s going to be up to the women to do it. However, not all women are the same, as you’re aware. These are the squeaks.”

She frowned, not understanding, but grateful for the second cup of coffee. Anderson read her eyes and nodded. “What goes squeak? A mouse. These are the women of Barracks One. We’ll make an inspection tour of all five of them later today. Hold your questions about everything until then. Oh, and you do have permission to let me know if you have to go to the bathroom.” With that, he stood up and walked out. She quickly took a last swig of her coffee as he was standing and got up as well, following him.

Walking to a different building, there was a line of women waiting to get in. A soldier by the door said, “Step aside,” to the woman at the entrance. She did so, which allowed Anderson and el-Azizi to enter. Instead of tables and chairs, or even cafeteria tables with benches, the women were having to sit on what looked like – and were – pieces of telephone poles that were simply placed upon the floor. Those seated were balancing old melamine lunch trays, like had been used in schools thirty years ago. None of the women had silverware. They also had a melamine cup with water in it. There were two soldiers patrolling up and down two aisles, watching.

One of them stopped. “You’re dawdling. I’ve seen you not eat twice while I’ve walked by. You’re done now. Stand up, dump your food in the trash, empty your water into the sink, and then rinse your tray and cup off. Now!” He lightly tapped her with his baton for emphasis. Sniffing back tears, the woman stood up and followed his orders. Placing her empty tray and cup in the rack, he pointed her to the exit. Once she was out, another woman was allowed in.

Anderson observed the process. This woman, a black woman from Barracks Two named Sierra Malone, apparently had already been told what to do. She walked forward, where she picked up a tray and cup from a stack. She then stepped over to where a Hispanic woman from Barracks One was waiting. Malone held her tray out. Vanessa Valerio put an ice cream scoop of scrambled eggs, a slice of fried bologna, and a piece of toast on the tray. Malone then took a step over and held her cup out. Valerio used a dipper and filled it most of the way full with water. Then Malone walked over to where the woman had been seated. Malone’s uniform was of the too small variety, so she had to be careful when she sat down. Even so, she still slopped a little water onto her tray.

The soldier watching her sit nodded. “Good. Nothing hits my floor! You two, good job, you ate everything. You’ve seen others, you know the procedure.”

“Yes, Sir!” both women said at the same time. They got up, one of them slipping a little because her uniform was too large. They took their trays and cups over, rinsed them, then went outside. Anderson followed them.

The women that were finished eating were being sorted by a soldier into their individual barracks. This was close enough to the latrine sand pit that he was allowing them, one at a time, to use it if needed. When there were four women from a barracks done, they were sent back to their barracks. Anderson followed the next group, that was headed for Barracks Four. He was rather surprised that they didn’t dawdle or talk, but headed directly back to the Barracks as instructed. From there, he went back to his quarters.

Once inside, he went to his dresser, got out his second group of pills, and took them.

“Sir, may I use the bathroom?”

“Oh, yes. Same as before, of course, no toilet paper.”

“Yes, Sir. Sir, may I ask a question?”

He walked to the door of the bathroom. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t have more than one. As long as it’s not about the camp. I’ll go over those with you later.”

She blinked, not realizing that he was going to stand there and watch her. She took in a breath, then asked, “How is it that you know the Quran?”

“Operation Desert Storm. I actually misspoke earlier, over breakfast. We’re not just guards, we’re all soldiers. Remember yesterday, when I said we were all military veterans? Well, there are veterans, and then there are combat veterans.” He turned, so his right shoulder was visible. “Do you see this patch? It’s a taro leaf, which signifies that I served in the 24^th Infantry Division. The taro leaf is because the Division originated on Hawaii, and took casualties along with the Navy during the attack on Pearl Harbor. When we’re walking around, you’ll notice that all of us have a patch of some kind on our right shoulder. That signifies we were a part of that division, or that unit, during combat operations. You’ll see different patches on the right shoulders, depending upon where that soldier served. This patch on our left shoulder shows that we’re all part of the Oklahoma State Guard.”

“But Oklahoma doesn’t have a state guard, any more than Kansas does.”

He smiled. “No, Oklahoma didn’t have a state guard. That was one of the first things the Governor did when fuckwad said we were in rebellion against the US. So, we’re a perfectly legal part of the Oklahoma Department of the Military. Sorry, I turned what was a short answer into a long one. I served in Iraq, and I spent time with interpreters. So, I learned some Arabic, and I have more than one copy of the Quran that I’ve read. Now, I think you’ve been there long enough, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Sir!” She quickly wiped herself, then stood up. She turned from washing her hands when she heard him loosening his pants.

“Thank you for warming that up for me. I hate sitting on a cold metal toilet seat.” He farted, then flinched. “Okay, we’ll be here for a minute. Anything else about me you’re curious about?”

“What did you do before this?” She sounded honest in her curiosity.

He winced a little at the smell. “Sorry, one thing they didn’t put in here was a vent fan. Bachelor’s in Computer Science, with three minors, from UK, that’s the University of Kentucky. Minors in Military Leadership, since I was in ROTC, and two others. Did my active duty, served in Desert Storm, then came home. Got a job with Microsoft, worked for them for ten years, then got a really good corporate job with Bank of America, doing their computer programming. My office was on the eighty-first floor of the north tower, but because of what I did, I wasn’t in it that morning, I was across town. Welcome to survivor’s guilt.”

As he was saying that, he was carefully watching her face. He saw her wince as his comment hit home with her. Internally, he smiled.

“After that, the bank moved me to Chicago, but Illinois is just as restrictive as New York as far as personal freedom is concerned. Meaning if someone tries to hold you up, they frown upon you turning the mugger’s face into paste. First time, Chicago PD let me go. Second time, they actually booked me, and my lawyer got me off. That told me it was time to get the hell out of there. I couldn’t move to Texas because they’re in the SEC, so that left Oklahoma. Been here ever since. Open the top drawer of my dresser. I forgot to grab my roll of toilet paper.”

She did so. There was a picture under it that caught her eye. She realized the man in it was a younger version of the man in front of her. Not meeting his eyes, she handed it to him.

“Don’t bother to ask. She worked for Cantor Fitzgerald.” He replaced the roll of toilet paper in the drawer when he was finished.

Emotion strong in her voice, she asked, “Do you hate me?”

“Uh, no. Should I? Have you personally done something against me directly, that would cause me injury or harm, or otherwise cause me physical or mental distress?”

She shook her head, causing her hair to move out, and her natural breasts to move in ways Anderson found visually pleasing as she said, “ARGH! No, now you sound like a lawyer!”

“Nope, I’ve never practiced law or been admitted to the bar of any state. Come on, I’ve got to get my day started.” Without saying anything else, he headed out. She followed him, her eyes blazing with suppressed anger. Anderson stopped at the mirror beside the door and made sure his cover was on properly, noting her eyes as he did so. He simply opened the door, stepping out into the warm Oklahoma morning.