Nuremberg Tour 29

I choose poutine for lunch, on the theory it might be a while before I see it again.
Then finally, the buses pull out. I see Sarge and Indira sitting together, in deep conversation. From the looks on Indira's face, she is not liking much of what she hears.
I end up sitting with Heidi. She shows me what computer games she plays on the handheld, then is absorbed in doing so.
I focus on various conversations one by one.
Most of these girls left boyfriends behind ( some husbands). From the sound of it, many are worried about what will happen.
The hard core drinkers talk about things like being afraid of the DTs, once they are on the one beer a day limit.
The gamblers talk of missing the fun and excitment.
Nobody has much good to say of the luggage search that took place this morning. Several dozen had large stashes of pot taken away. Kept in safe keeping for them for when they are discharged.
And then I realize, I'm about the only draftee who actually enjoys setting out. Behind me I leave nothing but ruination, scorched earth: the scandal, lotta people who hate me, no job to go back to.
I chuckle as I recall a song I hear periodically on the retro radio show. To change the wording just a bit, with apologies to the author for this poetic license: that dusty old diesel is singing my song, thank God and Greyhound I'm gone.
And then I sort of zone out, tired of all the conversations. I imagine something happening over there. Either Ivan or us brews home brew, starts some shooting. Before the officers can bring it under control, it escalates, spreads across hundreds of miles of front lines.
And then, it ain't just us and the Czechs anymore. Real Ivan and Real Uncle Sam show, complete with tanks, armored cars, attack helicopters.
And then I imagine that famous scene from Star Wars 86. You know the one, Dantesque, apocolyptic. Huge columns of thick black smoke, plumes of flames shooting hundreds of feet into the air. I imagine myself in it. Why not? Isn't dying better than ending up in some nursing home where the staff are rude and the dessert portions too small?
Gradually, I realize someone has wrapped an arm around me. Slowly, reluctantly, I drag myself back into the here and now.
It's Heidi. She speaks quietly, we'll certainly never be heard with all the noise around us. "You ok, Rachel?"
Way too quick, "oh yes."
"So, lemme guess, you were ah hoping something happens over there."
"How'd you know?"
"Not hard to figger. The look on your face. It seems a little strange when someone hums Battle Hymn of the Republic, then switches to the theme song of Star Wars 86."
I blush fiercely.
Kind tone, "look kid, just promise me two things."
"What?"
"First, don't be the one who fires that first shot. Second, if someone near you does, tackle them fast. See if Ivan hears one shot only, he'll think it's just a deer getting shot in the forest. More than one, you never know how Ivan might react."
"Ok, I promise that."
Gentle tone, "kid, I feel the same way myself. Bring it on. If it happens, good. But just don't start it."
"I see, so sitting next to me was no accident? Sarge sent you?"
"Nope, decided myself. But you know, read enough history and you'll find out you almost always get cheated. It's the sort like these (waves her hand) that end up wiped out. People who are afraid to die. Those who would welcome it, it rarely comes. They finish wars, alive, unscratched and with a half dozen decorations. Fate is perverse, you see."
I sigh.
"But if it does happen, well enjoy."