Nine Marines' Shared Property - Nicole Casey Page 0,58

multiple partners.”

“Yep.”

“Wow, that is intriguing. I think I will call her.”

“Gwen?”

“Axel.”

“Can I get something from you?”

“Of course, you can, Axel. What is it you want from me?”

“Can you send me a picture?”

24

Santiago

It didn’t take me long to start feeling homesick. I was surprised how much I missed San Diego: the comfort of my bed, the routine I had fallen into there, the weather and of course Gwen. The excitement of new experiences in a new country wore off quite quickly. The prospect of adventure, and even danger, had dwindled just as fast. After a few days it became quite clear that our deployment wasn’t going to bring about much of either. Instead, it was mostly filled with waiting, anticipation and the promises of a future reward.

Though we had the occasional access to the internet and we did send messages to our families, to communicate with Gwen we opted for an old school method: pen and paper and airmail. It just seemed to fit the vibe of the old war movies where the soldiers would send letters back to their girls waiting for them back home.

There was something extra exciting, extra gratifying about the build-up, the anticipation, waiting for the mail and hoping we’d get a letter from Gwen. Plus, the letter was physical, something we could touch. We could run our fingers over the paper and trace the words, imaging her voice speaking them to us and her wink and smile as she delivered the over-the-top corny line or innuendo. This method of communication really matched our mood; email or texts would have seemed out of place. Stationed half-way across the world with our return date being regularly pushed back, we were in no position to expect instant gratification.

Sometimes, we’d write her individual letters, but mostly we’d penned them together, occasionally going off on tangents and addressing each other in the letters.

‘Axel, we get it: Gwen’s not ‘our property’. It was just a figure of speech. It was just a game. No one is taking it literally.’

or

‘Manny, how is it possible that your clothes are always neatly pressed, your personal effects are always in their place and orderly arranged but yet your penmanship is so sloppy? Does that say ‘your smile is with me’ or ‘turnstile and whistle me’?

Besides those occasional tangents, our letters might have been overly sentimental:

‘Our Dearest Gwen’ or ‘we hold your loving embrace close to our hearts’ or ‘we long to take you in our arms and quench this yearning with the gentle kiss of your tender lips’

But what was undeniable, as sappy as our prose were, was that they were genuine and sincere.

Our letters were long on sentiment and short on news. There was no news, really—nothing important—other than ‘we are thinking about you and can’t wait to see you again.’

Gwen’s responses had a similar tone. Though we did ask for news about what was going on back in San Diego, she kept it rather vague: ‘business at the cafe is doing really well; the weather’s been great, obviously; Holly’s off on another adventure, to Chile this time.’ However she did keep us in suspense:

‘I know you’ve asked about what’s been happening here. Believe me, a lot’s been happening here. We will have a lot to catch up on. And I will have a very big surprise for you. I hate to be such a tease; you know that’s not my style. But when you find out, I think you’ll agree that it was well worth the wait, and well worth the surprise. Don’t worry, it’s good news. Great news, actually. That’s all I can tell you right now. You’ll just have to stay safe and come back to me soon!’

It wasn’t easy being separated from Gwen. I knew how much she meant to me, but I hadn’t realized just how much it would hurt to be far away from her. On the plus side, I wasn’t alone. I was with my squad. And that was by no means a minor consolation. The squad was my family; they were my brothers and my best friends. We shared a camaraderie that was unparalleled. We were connected in mind and spirit in a way that other squads could only hope to achieve, in a way that couldn’t be explained by a year of living, working and training together.

We could explain it, though. We were well aware of the trials and the joys that had brought us closer. But we kept those explanations to ourselves. With the amount