Homer Johnston, USA walked out of the locker rooms, and toward his workspace as a compatriot swept all files across a meeting table, and into the trash.
“Oh, yeah. Sweet,sweet bird,” said the Helicopter Pilot, a Marine reading “Field and Stream.”
And, adjacent to a pre-gear load room, into the trash. Oso kicked his feet up.
“Thanks. See you.”
“I’ve got orders,”said Homer, “stateside.”
“Let me fuck your sister gringo,” said Ding. Practicing his bail-out-of-europe crazy wetback voice.
They were professionals, and there was no racism in their stateside units. Not many minorities here.
Wait, they all were!
He boarded the 747, first class, and placed his rifle, cased and locked, in the seat next to him. The, he pulled out the in flight literature from the seat in front of him.