“Some of the squad leaders here know what I’m talking about. Someone in the shadows shouted “Preach,” which was echoed a few times.
Wayward souls, these soldiers were, but not beyond his redemption. The pealing cadence in his voice reinforced it. Because of the slight incline of the hill, and the way the flames danced shadows up and down his silhouette, he seemed a pastor delivering a dark sermon. Chambers moved in front of the pit to speak. Someone tended to the fire with lighter fluid, swelling the flames wide and red. A dim sky now hung over us, with only red lens flashlights and the blaze from the pit illuminating the area. We’re all looking forward to working with you in your new position.”Īfter the applause faded out, the men began chanting “Speech! Speech!” Chambers grinned, tucking his overbite behind his lower teeth, and waited them out. Congratulations, Staff Sergeant Chambers. Also, join me in recognizing our new platoon sergeant. Two more things: third and fourth squad, we still have that engineer escort tonight. Want to say it’s great to be together in the same place since … well, Kuwait. Once dinner ended, I stood up on the bench and clapped my hands. Each of the four tables hummed with similar banter we rarely got together as an entire platoon anymore, and never at the outpost. Doc Cork said both of them were too skinny, he needed a woman with some meat on her, a thick ass too, which sent the table into hysterics. Celebrating his promotion.”Īs I ate, I listened to the soldiers argue about whom they’d rather have sex with, Jessica Alba circa 2006 or Shakira circa 2008. “Smell that meat? I heard it’s ‘cause one of the cooks is old friends with Sergeant Chambers. “Welcome to family dinner, sir,” Alphabet said. I saw Chambers at a far table, so I took a seat at the nearest one. Each squad had been assigned a wood table, forty men in sweat-starched uniforms ready to eat. Squatty two-story buildings across the dirt road were about a hundred feet and a world away the entire block was dark and abandoned and had been since America made this place an edge of empire.Īt the base of the patio, I cleared my rifle and stuck the muzzle into a tin barrel, jerking the trigger with a quick squeeze. Pale, blinking lights in the distance helped guide me to the back patio, beacons courtesy of the few locals wealthy enough to purchase generators. I circled our outpost, navigating the razor wire and blast walls that surrounded it in layers. He holds an MFA in fiction from Columbia and has written for the New York Times, The Atlantic, The Daily Beast, and Boston Review, among others.
Gallagher is a former US Army captain and the author of the acclaimed Iraq War memoir Kaboom, based on the popular and controversial blog he kept while he was deployed. The following is from Matt Gallagher's novel, Youngblood.
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