The Newbee

The Newbee drops his duffle bag and slumps into the air terminal lounge chair. 

Shined boots and clean jungle fatigues confirm his incipient resident status. 

He senses the collective glare of his fellow travelers – recon Marines fresh out of the bush. 

Reddish mud caked on every surface of hair, skin, and clothing. Dangling cigarettes slowly delivering their opiate as the expressionless observers contemplate this newly arrived denizen of The ‘Nam. 

Although undeclared, the Newbee perceives boiling cauldrons of emotion behind the troopers’ sunken eyes - disdain for those who are not them, yet uneasiness with what they have become. 

The Newbee comprehends the agitated gazes of boy-men whose tender psyches have been parboiled by battle. Their unspoken odyssey has wrought both eternal bond and yet-to-be-exorcised demons. 

For an instant, the Newbee longs to be one with his silent comrades. 

To share their unspoken secrets. 

To mitigate the shame of his rawness. 

To let the soul-wrenching images he knows they harbor transfuse from their minds to his. 

Reflecting, he considers the horrific initiation required for membership in this macabre warrior fraternity, and blanches at the cost. 

As he collects his gear to depart, one of the Marines speaks at last. 

 “So long, Newbee.”