Summery: Just what the title says. An Iceman Brad monologue.
Home- home is not a place I've had for a while. As I sit here in this eternal hell of sand and dead bodies. Everything is desolate and quiet as I lean against the humvee, trying to escape the heat of this desert.
My thoughts drift the place I used to call home, California. The Pacific now reminds me of this wasteland I'm sitting in, of my fallen brothers, the ones who never saw home, unless you count the inside of that wooden box they rest eternally in.
They say there is no greater honor then fighting for your country, hell there is no honor in killing innocent people; women and children that where in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this is not what the warrior is sub post to think about.
So I drift back to the place that I haven't called home in a long time. The Pacific used to remind me of my happy childhood, that's right this warrior- this marine, used to surf. That was a time when freedom was simply the perfect wave.
"Hey Brad!" Ray's voice rips through the desert, and he is walking towards me, waving a piece of paper. "Is that Reporter's girlfriend?" I asked, shielding my eyes from the glare of the desert sun. "Yep!" he says stopping in front of me. And he's looking down at me with my rifle lying in my lap, my warrior's hand resting on it in apparent ease. "Give me that, I'm so getting batteries for this." Trombley says getting up and snatching the picture from Ray's hands, then disappearing into the maze of humvees and horizontal bodies, my band of brother's doing the same as me, trying to escape the heat.
Ray sits down next to me and I simply stare ahead, watching but not seeing. Instead I'm seeing myself riding a perfect tube, the ocean is a perfect blue and the water is warm. The whistle blows and I know that I've won this contest. I shake my head, and Ray is looking at me. "What are you seeing Sgt?" I look over at him, "I see a California kid riding the perfect wave." I answer. He touches my shoulder then stands up. "Hey Brad, you can still wish."
And he leaves. Off to find Trombley probably. I smile slightly and stand up, shedding the thin army green tee shirt that is clinging to my body. And once I sit back down I close my eyes and drift.
Perhaps the Iceman is finally home, and that home is with his battalion, his band of brothers, his marines.