Exerpt from   The House of the Rising Sun    by G.D. Lorentzen

     When I reported for duty at the language school, the officer-in-charge scrutinized my papers, shuffling
and reshuffling through them. He furrowed his brow, twitched his nose, raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips
until I felt a sense of foreboding.
     "Is there anything wrong, sir?" I asked.
     "Ah...no...not exactly," he replied distantly. He finally set the papers on the desk, looked up at me and said with
enthusiasm, "You're being reassigned to Fort Devens."
     The officer handed me a packet of papers that included reassignment orders and travel orders to Boston.
     "You have a flight out of San Francisco tomorrow at fourteen hundred hours," he said matter-of-factly. "As for
what you do until then, I'll assign you a bunk in the holding company, request some bedding and meal tickets for
today and tomorrow and then right after lunch tomorrow come back here and we'll get you on a shuttle to the airport."
     The holding company was located three buildings beyond the mess hall, so I hauled my duffle bag across the quad
and through the row of World War II era barracks until I found the right one. I walked up the three short wooden steps
and entered the building, which wasn't as modern and clean as my previous barracks in basic training.
     I marched up the stairs to the second floor, followed the hallway until I found 22, my assigned room. I hesitated
a moment because I wasn't sure if I should knock or simply open the door with the key. I decided to knock. I knocked
lightly but rapidly three times, stepped back and waited for a response. I heard someone moving around inside and
then the greeting, "Come on in! Door's open!"
     I turned the doorknob and opened the door into a room about twenty feet square. I absorbed the details of the room
in a matter of seconds. One side of the room had a neatly made bed, posters of Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison and the
Monterey Music Festival 1967 on the wall, a small night stand with drawers and a wall-locker for clothes. There was
a throw rug with an American Indian design on the floor in front of the bed. The other side of the room held an empty
army bunk and the walls were bare. A young man about nineteen or twenty was sitting cross-legged on the nicely
made bed reading a Mad Magazine. Dressed in olive drab fatigue pants, army socks and a t-shirt, he looked to be
the typical young soldier. His dog tags were hanging over his chest intertwined with multiple strings of colorful hippie
beads. He looked up with the realization that he wasn't going to be alone anymore. His brown eyes beneath slightly
heavier than normal eyebrows showed a momentary disappointment.
     "Sorry to barge in like this, but I've been assigned here for the night," I said, paused briefly, then quickly tried to
reassure the guy by saying, "but I'll be leaving tomorrow, so you'll have the place to yourself again."
     "Ah, that's alright, " he said when he realized that I was sensitive to his position. "I don't mind, really. It'll be good
to have some company for a change."
     I liked the guy instantly and found him strangely attractive. He was handsome without being too pretty or too
masculine. I walked all the way into the room, set my duffle bag on the bunk and decided to walk over to him and
introduce myself. I stuck my hand out and said, "Lonnie Davidson, what's yours?"
     "Chuck Lawrence," he replied shaking my hand from his perch on the bed.
     "So, the Sarge tells me you've been here awhile waiting for orders or something," I said.
     "Yeah, they've been fuckin' around for two weeks trying to figure out what to do with me," he said with disdain.
"I don't know what the fuckin' problem is. They assigned me here for German, then found out I'd had some
German before. I passed the proficiency test and that's created a problem. I guess they don't want to spend
the money to teach me something I already know, so now they have to decide what I'm gonna be doin'."
     I chuckled and nodded my head in response. "That's pretty much my situation, too, except it was Russian.
"Did you get a chance to request a new school?"
     "Fuck no!" Chuck said with a little anger. "It's outa my hands now. I've gotta do what they tell me, like it or not."
     "Well, good luck," I said sincerely. "I hope you end up with something you like."
     "Yeah, thanks," said Chuck with a milder tone. "Sorry for the little outburst, but the bullshit just doesn't stop
around here."
     "Yeah, I can imagine," I responded
     "What about yourself?" asked Chuck. "Where're you going tomorrow?"
     "I'm flying to Boston, " I answered. "I'll be stationed at Fort Devens, but I have no idea what I'll be doing.
I don't have a new M.O.S. yet either--at least they haven't told me."
     Chuck smiled briefly and said, "Well, that's a hundred percent more than I know, so you're ahead of the game."
     I nodded and flopped on my empty bunk. Just then there was a knock on the door and Chuck yelled to come
in the same way he did when I had knocked. A young private came in carrying bedding. He looked around briefly
settling his gaze on me and said, "Here...for you." When you check out, just give 'em to the Sarge at the desk."
     "Sure, " I said. "Just set them over here," indicating the foot end of the empty bunk. The guy set them down,
turned around and walked out without saying anything else. Chuck got up off the bed and shut the door.
     "Talkative bunch around here," said Chuck ironically.
"So it seems," I agreed. I couldn't help but notice Chuck's masculine grace as he moved quickly from the bed
to the door and back again. He wasn't muscular, but solid with large upper arms and broader than average
shoulders. His waist seemed slightly narrower than I would've expected, with his hips, butt and thighs so well
developed. Chuck crawled back onto his bunk, crossed his legs again and seemed to wait for the metallic
clinking of his dog tags to stop before he spoke.
     "You going to dinner?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'd like to, " I said, sounding more exhausted than I really was. "I haven't eaten since breakfast
and I'm getting a bit hungry."
     "You know, there's a restaurant in the club where we can get just about anything we want," offered Chuck.
"The food's boring, but it's better than the mess hall."
     "I've got a little money on me," I replied. "Shall we?"
     "Far out!" Chuck exclaimed as he jumped from the bunk, grabbed his shirt and slipped into his boots.
"I haven't had anyone to talk to in over a week."
      He looked up at me as he tied his boots and said grinning, "Who knows, this could be the start of a
beautiful friendship."
     I didn't say anything in response. I just smiled, stood up, stretched and walked toward the door. Chuck
stood up and with a couple strides caught up with me. He slapped me firmly but lightly on the shoulder and
said, "Ready? I'm feeling kinda hungry."
     "Sure. I'm ready," I said not quite comfortable with Chuck's friendly attitude and touch. I liked him and his
friendliness, but I wasn't quite sure where it was coming from. No one in my life had ever treated me so openly
so quickly. I just wasn't sure about it. Or perhaps I wasn't sure about me.

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