Robert surveyed his room. White walls jaundiced with age, an air vent that blows cold in the winter and hot in the summer and tiny flecks of plaster and dust onto the coffee-stained tile floor year round. There is a crack in the plaster ceiling that looks like a crooked grin which constantly taunts him. The room also contains a television mounted to the wall, a nightstand on which sits an empty Oriental vase, and his worn leather recliner. In the corner next to his bed hangs his thread- worn robe; above it hangs a dust covered spider web, both are the same foul color. Off in the distance Robert can hear the whispered hiss of machines and the hushed voices of the staff as they go about their daily duties. Occasionally a crackling voice would make an announcement on the overhead speakers, the announcements are of two varieties, a code of one kind or another and "visiting hours are over". Robert was a career soldier; he saw action in Korea and then Viet Nam. He was too old for any action to see duty in the most recent of conflicts. He rode a desk for the last twenty years of his service. Robert reaches into his wobbly nightstand next to his bed and retrieves the only items that meant anything to him: his Silver Star and a tattered copy of T.S. Eliot's poetry. The Military gave him the medal (a reward for killing) and his father, a World War One veteran, gave him the book (a going off to war present). War and killing is about the only thing Robert has any great knowledge of. He has spent 30 years in the Marines and what did he have to show for it? A tiny lonely room, and Vinny. And a mess of memories and nightmares. This place is a nightmare, where one comes at the end of their pitiful life. Thirty years of service and the only thing Robert learned is how to kill.
Robert remembered the first man he shot. He was a North Korean soldier. It was soon after the battle of Inchon, while trying to maintain the Pusan Perimeter. A small number of North Koreans were embedded in trenches on a hillside, and taking pop shots at U.N. troops as they passed on the road below. This "minor annoyance" was holding up supplies. His platoon was ordered to clear them out. What should have been an easy task turned into a blazing fire fight, and ended when Navy F9F Panthers with their twenty millimeter machine guns roaring, strafed and bombed the hillside. Robert watched as the empty twenty millimeter brass rained down from the sky, and thought how odd it was that he could hear metallic tinkling sound as they hit and danced on the rocks below. Then the Panthers were gone, their light blue/gray bellies blending in with the sky above, Robert watched until they became invisible.
Robert was awaiting orders to again advance up the hill when a Korean soldier poked his head out from a trench about 40 yards from Robert's position. The Korean armed with a Russian Burp gun, pulled the trigger sending a burst of 7.62 rounds in his direction;, without thinking Robert returned fire with his carbine, he emptied the magazine of its 30 rounds, before he realized the soldier was slumped over, half in half out of the trench, dead. An unceremonious end to a man's life. Robert and his buddy walked over to the dead soldier; it was the first dead person Robert had seen outside of a funeral home. "Mistah Kurtz is dead," laughed his buddy as he poked at the head of the dead soldier with the toe of his boot. "Jesus Christ Robert, one shot right through the forehead," his buddy exclaimed as he patted Robert on the back. Robert watched silently as his buddy bent over and began picking through the dead mans pockets. Finding a photo, Robert's buddy lifted up the dead mans head by a lock of his thick black hair and held the photo next to his cheek, "What do you think? Looks like him? Kind of hard to tell, what with that big hole." his buddy said dropping the soldiers head. Robert watched as the head hit the ground with a thud causing a mini cloud of dust and dirt to rise from the ground slowly encompassing the corpse. Robert picked up the photo; his buddy had thrown it down as he walked off. There were six people in the picture; a man, a woman and four small children; they were standing in front of a Buddhist temple. Robert returned the picture to the soldiers pocket and trotted off after his buddy.
Today, his breakfast consisted of oatmeal that tasted like wall paper paste, a cup of tepid coffee, dry toast, and orange juice. The dry toast, Robert believed, was left over hard-tack from the Civil War. He had better food (C-Rats) on the front lines in Korea. He could hear the orderly approaching as he pushed the food cart down the hallway, dragging his useless leg behind. After breakfast, Robert wanders down to the recreation room. The sounds of ping pong balls being volleyed about are heard long before he enters the room. Upon entering Robert scans the room. They are getting younger and younger, Robert thought. The early morning sun shone warmly through the big picture window, and Vincent is seated in his usual spot next to that big picture window, drooling on himself. He is a great source of amusement for Robert as he saw the Kaiser around every corner and hiding behind every tree. He reminded Robert a lot of his dad. "Morning Vinny", Robert calls out loudly, "get the Kaiser yet?" The only subject Vinny would talk about is the Dirty Rotten Huns. "No, but he's close by", Vinny retorted. Vinny had outlived his family by decades, only his memory died soon after his wife. Really the only memories Vinny had were of his service in the army, at least they were the only memories he ever spoke of. Vinny had been a sergeant in an artillery brigade and every time some loud noise occurred, Vinny would yell out "incoming" and attempt to get out of his wheel chair. Long ago the orderlies and nurses decided it was best to keep him restrained.
Robert finds it his duty to look after Vinny. The lackadaisical approach of the orderlies who provide care for the men on Robert's wing is anything but military, at least the military he was accustomed to. So what if Vinny did not have any family or visitors he still needed to be bathed and shaved. He also did not deserve to sit in a filled diaper for hours before anyone takes notice. Vinnie's cup of coffee is sitting next to him untouched; the cup is a sippy cup, like one you would give a child. Robert will take Vinny out for a stroll around the grounds, the late summer air will do them both some good. Better than sitting around and reading. Robert spent many hours reading, he would read to Vinny, who usually nodded off to sleep.
Pushing Vinnie's wheelchair along the broken concrete path is something of a workout for Robert. Every time he hits a bump Vinnie's head bounces about like a bobble head doll. Robert talks to his wheel chair bound friend not knowing whether or not he understood him or even cared. But it makes Robert feel better. He talks of what it all means, is this the way life ends. Robert talks about his time in Korea and the things he did, things that gave him nightmares. This morning, their walk took them to the old cemetery on the edge of the woods. Small faded flags hang limply in the air, each signifying a grave. Dead and dried flowers cracked under the weight of the wheelchair and its driver. Rising in the center of the cemetery is an enormous apple tree. With some difficulty Robert maneuvers himself and Vinny to a grassy spot under the tree. Vinnie's head hangs low, with his chin resting on his hefty belly, and his drool was forming a wet stop on the olive green blanket that covered his lap. Vinny, like a baby going for a ride in their stroller, has fallen asleep. Robert picks what hopefully is a ripe apple and sits on the ground, his back resting against the smooth cool trunk of the tree. The apple is indeed ripe and leaves a clean and refreshing flavor in his mouth. Robert pulls out his tattered book of Eliot and begins reading. Reading always relaxes him and this time is no different, slowly his eyes close and his mind drifts back in time.
In Korea the American soldiers were warned about eating local foods, especially fresh vegetables and fruit. He did not know why the fresh veggies were forbidden until one day while on base he saw the local farmers appear with their push carts. They headed for the latrines where they cleaned them out and loaded the buckets of human feces onto their carts and were off. It turned out that they used the crap for fertilizer. So, for the next two years the only fresh veggies and fruit Robert ate was while on leave in Japan. Tokyo, with its lights, glitter, and nightclubs was a place where the beer flowed and the local girls chased the American soldiers. R & R is what the military called it, Robert never got much rest or relaxation for that matter while in Tokyo. Hell, he was twenty-two years old and from a small town in Montana, the only thing that ever chased him in Montana was his mother's pet goose, Lily White, whose disposition was that of always being pissed off. Tokyo was a place away from the stress of battle and away from the Kim chi breathes of the Korean locals.
Robert and his buddy used to laugh at how they could smell a Korean from a mile away. Kim chi is a very spicy cabbage salad, with lots of garlic, onions, ginger, and hot peppers; it was something that Robert's American palate not to mention his digestive system had a hard time handling.
After their walk Robert returned his friend to his spot by the big picture window. It will be the last time he sees him. That night Vinny died, his last words, which were nothing more than a whimper, "Tell Robert, This is how the world ends."
The weeks have passed since the death of Vinny, Robert no longer takes walks and hardly leaves his room. Robert stares out the window, the shadows are growing longer and the skies gloomier, the bare trees sway in the gentle breeze, as squirrels scurried up and down with their cheeks filled to capacity. The robins that usually congregated on the lawn outside his window are gone. A sure sign that winter is on its way. Robert hates the winter more than anything; they are cold and windy and wet. Robert recalls the first winter he spent in Korea. MacArthur had promised they would be home by Christmas.
December 1950, he was attached to the 1st Marine Division. The three regiments of his division were marching north. He remembered that in the weeks leading up to the 11th they had encountered numerous Chinese and Korean troops, but never together. The Chinese would attack and then disappear over the border into China safe in the fact that the U.N. troop would not follow. Day break on the 11th the temperature was -30 degrees F. He recalled how the action on his M1 Carbine was frozen shut, and how he and his buddies laughed when they were told to pee on the guns' action to get them open, and it worked. What would his mother think of this practice? He was thinking about how painful it would be to be shot when it was this cold, when the Chinese attacked with bayonets fixed. They looked like puffy clouds in their dirty white quilted uniforms, as they swarmed down the frozen hills. There were thousands of them. He thought "we're trapped surrounded." After the battle subsided, he remembered searching the frozen field for his buddy. At the start of the action he was standing next to him. He found him about a hundred yards from where they had been last standing, face down in the snow, his body riddled with bullet holes, and his carbine frozen to his hand. He thought how strange it was that so many wounds produced so little blood. His buddy, Jimmy, was dead. Later Robert assisted the Lt. in writing the letter to his buddy's parents.