by Curtis Ray
Two brothers driving and one has a flashback from Iraq.
|" Hey Curt? You alright?"
"Yeah I'm fine..."
"Then why are you driving faster...?"
"I am? I'm sorry Rob..."
"Its cool- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!"
"Doing what Major!?"
"WHAT THE HELL! CURTIS! SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!"
"This is what you wanted us to do. IS IT NOW MAJOR!?"
"CURTIS YOUR HOME! GOD DAMN IT! SNAP OUT OF IT!"
"Home...? What home Sir? The homeof every solider that dies for! The home of where the wifes and husbands back AT home, that what for us! The home of are kids thatdo not get to see us! I'm sorry Sir... I am not home. I still have the fell the grit junder my nail, I still have the sand feils under my skin, I have the scropines in my boots. My hair has sand from the storms, and to top it off Sir... I hear the shells from the guns fireing, and the scearming from the Men, Women, and even the little kids... I hear the explosions thundering through the allyways, and the ground trumbling under my feet... I hear the Bombers flying over and droping Naplames. I feel the heat of the fires that burned the hairs off my neck and arms... I'm sorrry Sir... but I'm not home."
"Curt trust me your home. Your're not back in Irqa, your wife is ever more then grateful your back home, your daughter hasn't seen you since she was born. So trust me on this. Your home."
"Rob... I have to tell you something..."
"Whats up Bro?"
"I'm going on another tour... I know I said that was my last, but I have too..."
"Curt. It's okay. You can't disobae orders. But promise me what you promised last time... Okay?"
Five days ago a United States Marine from Orange Park, Florida died in combate. Lance Cropral, Curtis William Ray, was a guy with many trates, with a go hard addituded. He died in honor for his faimly, friends, and love ones. His cermone is going to be at the Jacksonville Memorioal, from 10 o' clock a.m. to 5 o'clock p.m. Gold Bless his faimly and whatch over them, may him rest in piece.