AWOL

Travelling with radio silence, I raise my hand, holding a thermos; the 114th Armored Car Squadron clanks to a halt. A scorcher of a day, I opt for the shady side, pour a cup of cold coffee.
My driver, Cpl Smith, grimaces, "oy Cap, how on earth can you stomach that stuff?"
I grin, "tour of duty with the Native Rangers, came to enjoy it."
She laughs, "but surely you Afghans do tea? Green tea?"
"I is a dis-grace, westernized you know."
Sgt Regier chuckles, "what a sight!"
All eyes fix on a reeferized, gaily-painted truck belonging to the ice cream wholesaler.
Absently I ask, "so what's a civvy truck doing on this road? Only village past here is Snorriville, hasn't had a store in years."
This sets off gales of laughter.
Sarge smiles, "you ah don't get around much."
"How so?"
"Ice cream is for the bar."
"The bar?"
"Province's liquor laws, got nuttier, had to keep several different kinds of food in a bar. The old days, just hanging up a few bags of potato chips don't cut it anymore."
"Oh."
"So, if you're a kid, can't go in. Tap on the window, buy whatever you like. Kills two birds with one stone, keeps the province happy and still a bit of a convenience store."
Cpl Smith grins, "it's slowing, maybe we can buy something."
It indeed stops, out hopping Private Sanderson.
Sarge laughs, "everytime, different wacky story. One time, the bar she was in got quarantined. Nother time, space aliens abducted her. Nother time, boyfriend tied her to bed for a week." Howls of laughter. "Wonder what excuse this time, being a week late for maneuvers?"
Pte Sanderson gives a cheerful war whoop, "listen up y'all. Driver is ssso sweet. Offered to sell to us at wholesale, same price as he charges the stores."
Instant crowd.
Sarge impishly grins, "how bout that? No way we could give her KP (Kitchen Police) now."
I shrug, "notta lot you can do. Wonder if they have mint chocolate?"