Free Gooseberry Island by Steven Manchester Page B

rather be sitting beside Lindsey, talking with her—instead of looking at her on a computer screen, or hearing her voice through a telephone receiver.
    On top of that, the Army can be a lonely life with too much drinking,
he thought. From the foxholes he’d dug, there were few opportunities to see the world his recruiter had promised. Worst of all, he was also required to dive from a perfectly good airplane once a month to maintain his jump status.
Still, I feel blessed I joined because when you get right down to it, the military isn’t for people who can’t do better—it’s for those who won’t settle for less.
It offered the greatest gift in life—
a sense of purpose
. This was most obvious every time the Fourth Ranger Battalion marched. In no other walk of life did sixty, a hundred, even a thousand soldiers simultaneously step in sync—each devoted to the same cause, each serving something larger than themselves. David couldn’t imagine a finer job than to awaken every morning to defend a country. Above all else, military service provided meaning to young men and women who still believed in duty, honor and courage.
    But something’s changed
, he thought, and smiled.
Lindsey
. He felt closest to her at night when he looked into the sky, the North Star shining brightly.
It’s like she’s right here with me
, he thought,
but still far enough away to be safe
. He felt a strange comfort knowing that they still shared the same constellations to gaze into. On the nights that were overcast—the stars blocked out by gray hovering clouds—he actually felt alone
. Strange
, he thought.
*
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
*
    When David awoke from his daydream, he thought,
But Lindsey’s home on
Gooseberry Island, where I should be.
Shaking his head, he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind and focused on the present.
But for now, I need to get my head back in the game
, he told himself, and checked that his loaded weapon’s selector switch was still on safe.
*
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
*
    Upon returning to camp from Kabul-land, David hurried to the afternoon mail call. The Supply Sergeant picked up the final package and called out, “McClain.”
    David quickly approached the grumpy man and claimed the stained cardboard box. The heavy package—half crushed from its long trip—was addressed to
Sergeant David McClain
in black Sharpie.
    As David walked back to the formation, he immediately detected a sweet flowery scent.
It’s the same perfume Lindsey wore that night on the bench
, he thought, and remembered her promise of a “love letter.” He went to one knee and tore the cardboard package open.
    Sifting through the snacks and books and other surprises, David located a white envelope, marked,
Handsome
. Smiling, he brought the envelope up to his nose and inhaled deeply a few times.
Wow
, he thought and opened it.
    There were only a few paragraphs, but the letter contained enough to sustain him through two wars.
*
    Dear David,
    Thank you so much for your recent calls. The sound of your voice completely melts me. Trust that I feel everything you do. I want to be with you more than anything in this world and to share everything with you. I’ve had lots of trouble not getting lost in my daydreams of us.
    I’m ready for you and wish you were here right now. Please try to believe in us the way I do because I believe with all my heart. I can’t wait to kiss you again.
    I’ll be thinking of you tonight and every night after.
    Life is better than good.
    Love,
    Lindsey
     
*
    Love Lindsey?
he pondered and got lost for a few moments in the possible meaning. He hurried off to the privacy of his bunk where he could read—and smell—his love letter without being razzed.
*
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
*
    Saturday morning found David’s ranger team on just another ordinary foot patrol. With Lindsey’s love letter in one cargo pocket and his father’s note in the other, David walked right flank in the middle of the staggered patrol, thinking about his brothers and their