His phone was ringing as he entered his apartment. “Hello,” he said grabbing the phone on the 7th ring.
“Jack, its Chris. You O.K.?” his recruiter asked.
“Yeah.”
“Look man, I’m really sorry about….” His boss, the recruiting station commander, Staff Sergeant Hamilton, grabbing the receiver from his detailed recruiter’s hand, cut off Staff Sergeant Lewis in mid-sentence.
“What’s your fuckin’ problem son? You too much of a pussy to join the Army?” Staff Sergeant Hamilton barked into the phone. “My recruiter Sergeant Lewis busted his ass to get you a golden contract and you ran scared! You wasted his, mine, and the Army’s time punk! Let me tell you, you don’t have what it takes to join my Army, you don’t have the balls and I’m damned glad you pussied out, my Army is better for it. I don’t want to see you around here again, you hear me?” the vein in Staff Sergeant Hamilton’s neck was throbbing.
Staff Sergeant Hamilton was on his 18th year in the Army having spent 13 of those years as an Army recruiter. His teeth were stained from years of drinking coffee and smoking Camel cigarettes. He began his career as an infantryman, broke his leg on his first jump at airborne school, worked in the company training office for three years until he volunteered for recruiting duty where he has been ever since.
Staff Sergeant Hamilton considered himself an excellent judge of character, a master of human nature. Those that worked for Staff Sergeant Hamilton thought quite the opposite.
Staff Sergeant Chris Lewis of Levittown, New York stood staring at his boss with contempt in his heart. He had joined the Army ten years earlier, an airborne infantryman until being selected for recruiting duty last year. He loved the Army and he loved soldier’n. He even loved recruiting except for moments like these. He knew in his heart that Jack O’Shea was soldier material and it killed him to listen to his boss go off on Jackie the way he was. He often wondered if Staff Sergeant Hamilton had it in for him.
Jackie O’Shea was used to his old man chewing his ass as a kid, but felt at least those times were usually for good reasons. “Fuck you Hamilton,” he said calmly, “I told you and Lewis and that piece of shit counselor that I wanted some kind of job in aviation. You nodded your fat pumpkin head yes, smiled with your tobacco stained teeth, and shook my hand saying ‘not to worry’ and that you’d ‘take care of things.’ Well you didn’t,” Jackie sternly said and hung up the phone.
Fifteen minutes later, he walked into Buckley’s Irish Pub and sat at the bar, “Bud draught,” he ordered.
“You look like shit Jackie,” Mr. Buckley said as he set the frosty mug in front of his favorite employee. “Whereinthehell have you been son?”
After two more beers, Jackie finished explaining to his favorite boss what had transpired over the past two days. “Whyinthehell didn’t you tell me what you were up to son? I’ve got friends in high places you know,” Mr. Buckley chastised as he poured a fourth beer for Jack.
Jackie tried to refuse the beer stating he had to work that night but his boss matter of factly informed him that he was off for the next three days, “look Jack, I don’t regret one day serving my city as a New York Fireman, but I do regret not joining the Army during Vietnam to serve my country. You take the next couple of days to decide what is best for Jackie O’Shea. I don’t want to see your ass in here until Friday you hear me?”
“Yes sir,” he half-heartedly replied finishing off his beer.
“Good,” Mr. Buckley affirmed, abruptly going back to work, ignoring Jackie O’Shea bellied up to the bar, full of self-pity.
Jackie O’Shea- Space Cowboy
Jackie O’Shea- Barkeep
Jackie O’Shea- Prospect
Jackie O’shea- Space Cowboy (again)
Jackie O’Shea- Dream Boy
Jackie O’Shea- Drop Out
Sgt Hook out.
Posted by Hook @ 0400 zulu | | Permalink
This post is filed under: Jackie O'Shea
