He put the mirror down and sighed, tension burrowing through his hardened heart. He turned back to the piece of paper in front of him, tapping on it with his pen. He was trying to write home to explain that he moved, but he didn't know what to say. He felt like such a wuss for leaving so many people to die when he found a getaway. He'd stay here until his draft time ran out or until the war ended, whichever came first. All he could do was sit and hope that end would come soon. He missed his family and was worried about all of them, probably even more worried than they were worried about him. There'd been talk of North Korea bombing the United States in order to keep them out of the way, but he wasn't quite sure if that were true or not.
The radio behind him was set to the only frequency that played American music, but Taylor hadn't been pleased with their selections. He'd wanted to turn it off on some occasions, but it was the only station that spoke in English and any music was better than no music. He turned to it, hoping the next song would be something a bit more decent than what he'd been hearing since he turned it on.
The song ended and another one began, an acoustic guitar playing a few sweet notes before a familiar voice began to sing. His eyes grew. Is that Zac? He thought, his cold heart feeling warm with nostalgia of home. Nah�Zac wouldn't record something without us�The more he listened the more the voice nagged at him and he couldn't deny it any longer. "Oh that's Zac all right," Taylor said to himself, slumping back into his chair. "Shit." He waited for the song to end and the DJ began to speak.
"That was Zac Hanson with 'Nothing Rhymes with Korea' an American protest song from an unlikely candidate. With both of his older brothers over here fighting this war, he's gone solo and taken the American audience by storm�"
"Both?!" Taylor yelled. "Both his brothers over here! Ike got drafted? Oh my God!" Realizing he was talking to himself, Taylor found himself getting a bit red. Before anything else could happen, someone from down the hall appeared at his door.
"You okay, Taylor?" he asked. Taylor looked over and nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."
"What happened?"
"I just found out my brother got drafted," Taylor said. "I didn't even know. He's somewhere over here and I think he's been over here for a while."
"How'd you find out?" Chris walked in and sat down in another chair across the room. Taylor had met Chris a few days beforehand when he entered the peacekeeping troops here in Pusan. When he found out Chris was from Tulsa as well, the two found themselves forging a close friendship.
"On the radio! My little brother Zac is now recording solo and he's got a protest song on the radio. The DJ said something about both of his brothers being in Korea." He sighed. "It's upsetting that I had to hear it that way."
"Have you talked to your family since you've been over here?"
"I got a letter but they didn't mention anything about it," he said, looking at the blank page that was supposed to contain a heartfelt but dishonest letter to his family. He was supposed to tell them how everything was okay where he was stationed, how he was doing just fine, but he knew he'd never be 'just fine' again.
"Well I hate to bother you, but it's time to go. The sergeant is going to get on your case if you're not out in full gear in ten minutes," Chris said, getting up. He put his helmet on and walked out of the room. That heaviness clouding over again, Taylor stood up and grabbed his helmet from the desk. He put it over his smooth head then reached for his gun. He paused, looking at the gun he had to carry around with him, just in case. It was nearly peacetime here in Pusan and he had to carry a gun around! And it wasn't even a little handgun. It was a machine gun!
Shaking his head of the thought, he picked up the gun and walked to the door, stopping only to turn the radio off on the way. He adjusted the helmet over his head and then left the room.
Dear Family,
Everything's good here where I'm stationed. I'm not close to the fighting but I'm not completely away from it either. The days are long and the nights are even longer, but I take it day by day. I miss all of you a lot. I heard about Zac from one of the other guys; they said they heard his song on the radio. I haven't heard it yet but they all think it's pretty good. Apparently it's uplifting�I don't know. Is he really protesting like he said he would? Just keep an eye on him so he won't get too full of himself. I don't want him to get in trouble. I know I may not be there to guide him along but I can still worry about him if I want to.
Have you heard from Taylor? I don't know where he is; it's bigger over here than I thought it would be. There's just so many people, Korean and American, that I have to face every day and sometimes I wonder what it's all about, you know? Like what the big deal is over a piece of land. Then I see them and I realize they're fighting for their home and for their country and I'm here to help. I think about everybody every day and I want you all to know that I miss you and I love you. It doesn't look like I'll be home soon, but I'll be home as soon as I can. Don't worry about me, everything over here isn't as bad as you think it is�
"Fire in the hole!!"
Isaac braced himself for impact as a sudden flash of light and heat erupted a mere few hundred feet away. Ignoring it, he went back to his letter.
I'll try to get home as soon as I can and I'll write the next time I get a chance. Tell Zac not to get too hyped up in his protest, I don't want him getting into trouble. Tell the little kids I love them and I'll see them soon. If you get a hold of Taylor tell him I'm all right and I'm stationed on the north side of Seoul.
Isaac
Isaac folded the letter and put it in the envelope he already had addressed. He sealed it and handed it to one of the other men whose job was to deliver any outgoing mail. "What's the word?" he asked, looking at the others in the tent.
"Tonight we sleep, tomorrow we fight."
"Wonderful."
Isaac sat back in his chair and looked outside. He could see the capital city of Seoul in the distance, between the bombs and the loud noise of people shooting other people and death and carnage that had been his home since he arrived not too long ago. The city itself was lit up by fires and screams and distant prayers in Korean that he couldn't understand. This was certainly more than he had ever thought war could be. All those movies that he'd seen and grown numb to didn't even compare to what he saw every day. Here it was all different. It was kill or be killed, and although he'd been born a good, solid Christian he knew that was the way it had to be.
He'd forgotten how to cringe in fear and now lying to his family had become the truth. He couldn't tell his family how it was out there; he couldn't worry them like that. He couldn't tell them that just yesterday he saw hundreds, maybe even thousands, of his American comrades get blown to pieces, begging for their life, for God, for their mothers. He never thought he'd be able to go to sleep at night and not know if he would wake up in the morning.
Trying to settle down, he realized he wasn't fully relaxed and hadn't been since he got here. That night was the first time that he actually could sleep in a tent with an actual blanket instead of lightly dozing outside against a tree while other people stood guard. He found sleep in the oddest ways, and was wondering if tonight he'd actually allow himself to rest. Even at home his sleeping habits had been so messed up, and here if you slept you were giving yourself a death sentence. He didn't dare let himself get anywhere past a doze, knowing if he did he'd be dead by morning.
Some of the others cried at night; he never did. He didn't have anything to cry over just yet. Everybody he knew and cared for were safe back at home�except for Taylor. He didn't know about Taylor and chose not to think about him unless absolutely necessary. He knew Taylor was still out there somewhere, fighting probably just like he was. If Taylor, God forbid, died in battle, he'd receive notice like a few of the others around here have before. He prayed every night to never let that happen.
He was just beginning to get comfortable when he heard a faint sound not unlike that of a sniper, and the side of the tent rustled in the wind. He looked to the tent and as it swayed he saw a rip in material. His eyes darted over to the other side of the tent and one of the men was down on the ground, dead.
"Move!"
He put on his helmet and took his gun, dropping to the floor like the rest of the men in the tent. They crawled outside and into the night, where he knew it was just as dangerous as it was inside. So much for that good night's sleep�