likely be confronted with air strikes and our own mechanized divisions instead of the infantry. But what did I know, right? The weather was miserable, too, with some freakishly angry cold front moving down from the arctic just as the maneuvers started. It was epic, with snow and sleet and hail and winds topping fifty miles an hour, making me think of Napoleon’s troops on the retreat from Moscow. It was so cold that frost formed on my eyebrows, it hurt to breathe, and my fingers would stick to the gun barrel if I touched it accidentally. It stung like hell getting them unstuck, and I lost a good bit of skin on the tips in the process. But I kept my face covered and my hand on the stock after that and marched through icy mud brought on by the endless snow showers, trying my best not to become an ice statue while we pretended to fight the enemy.
We spent ten days doing that. Half my men got frostbite, the other half suffered from hypothermia, and by the time we finished, my squad was reduced to just three or four men, all of whom ended up in the infirmary once we got back to base. Including me. The whole experience was just about the most ridiculous and idiotic thing the army ever made me do. And that’s saying something, because I’ve done a lot of idiotic things for good old Uncle Sam and the Big Red One. At the end, our commander walked through the ward, congratulating my squad on a job well done. I wanted to tell him that maybe our time would have been better spent learning modern war tactics or, at the very least, tuned in to the Weather Channel. But instead I offered a salute and an acknowledgment, being the good army grunt I am.
After that, I spent the next few uneventful months on base. Sure, we did the occasional class on weapons or navigation, and every now and then I’d wander into town for a beer with the guys, but for the most part I lifted tons of weights, ran hundreds of miles, and kicked Tony’s ass whenever we stepped into the boxing ring.
Spring in Germany wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be after the disaster we went through on maneuvers. Snow melted, flowers came out, and the air began to warm. Well, not really warm, but it rose above freezing, and that was enough for most of my buddies and me to throw on shorts and play Frisbee or softball outside. As June finally rolled around, I found myself getting antsy to return to North Carolina. Savannah had graduated and was already in summer school doing classes for her master’s degree, so I planned to travel to Chapel Hill. We would have two glorious weeks together—even when I went to see my dad in Wilmington, she planned to come with me—and I found myself feeling alternately nervous and excited and scared at the thought
Yes, we’d corresponded through the mail and talked on the phone. Yes, I’d gone out to stare at the moon on the first night it was full, and in her letters she told me she had, too. But I hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, and I didn’t have any idea how she’d react when we were face-to-face again. Would she rush into my arms when I got off the plane, or would her reaction be more restrained, perhaps a gentle kiss on the cheek? Would we fall into easy conversation immediately, or would we find ourselves talking about the weather and feeling awkward around each other? I didn’t know, and I’d lie awake at night imagining a thousand different scenarios.
Tony knew what I was going through, though he knew better than to call obvious attention to it. Instead, as the date approached, he slapped me on the back.
“Gonna see her soon,” he said. “You ready for that?”
“Yeah.”
He smirked. “Don’t forget to pick up some tequila on the way home.”
I made a face, and Tony laughed.
“It’s going to be just fine,” he said. “She loves you, man. She’s got to, considering how much you love her.”
Thirteen
In June 2001, I was given my leave and left for home immediately, flying from Frankfurt to New York, then on to Raleigh. It was a Friday evening, and Savannah had promised to pick me up at the airport before bringing me to Lenoir to meet her parents. She’d dropped that little