writers_muses | 107.1.G.
107.1.G. "No, you get to quit, you get to complain, but I don't. I have to sit here and take it."
Rob tried to lie as still as he could on his portable army cot, putting a hand up to his face to rub a thick layer of dirty sweat from his skin. He had stripped down to just his camo pants, his shirt in a messy pile on the floor beside his boots. The heat in the makeshift tent barracks was almost unbearable, but the combat he had been involved in the past couple of weeks meant he was well away from the 'comfort' of the main barracks. There were no little luxuries here. It was a temporary base and nothing more. Most of his belongings were left back at main base, including the laptop he had been keeping in touch with Leila on, and all the photos she sent him. He had the bare minimum of necessities housed in his pack, and it was just tough shit. This was his job, no arguments.
But the downside to the conditions he was trying to operate in meant illnesses could be rife, and Rob, along with four other men in his battalion, had come down with a strange fever. Three others went from having a high grade fever and borderline dehydration to ending up in the nearest infirmary with vomiting and diarrhoea. Right now, Rob was just praying with every fibre of him that he could halt this at the fever and raging headache. Every gunshot and explosion in the distance felt like it was stabbing him in the temple and drilling through his skull. The jury was out whether he and the soldier in the cot across from him were going to be choppered back to base for medical treatment. They were just waiting for the medic to come and call the shots. At this point, it looked like contaminated food or water could be the culprit. Rob didn't give a fuck. He just wanted to succeed in not giving into the urge to start to vomiting. He had suffered dysentery in the past during one of his postings in Iraq. He feared if he started vomiting, he might not stop. All the water he had been trying to get into him to ease the dehydration was sloshing around in his gut. If he moved, it felt like he was going to projectile vomit from here to the Afghan capital. He didn't feel good, and all he wanted was to be curled up in bed with Leila, and not trying to will himself to be fine.
When he heard his mate a couple of beds over give in and start retching over the side of the cot, Rob just closed his eyes in sympathy, swallowing and trying to think of as many cold things as he could to try and help his mind trick his body into cooling down just a little. Inevitably, his mind kept turning back to Leila. Two weeks since they had last spoken, he knew she had to be getting worried. All he wanted to do was dilute that for her in some way. If he got flown back to the infirmary, he might be able to get a message to her in some way, perhaps via a friend. That would be the one positive from falling ill on duty. He wouldn't be out in the isolated desert in the middle of nowhere, mid-combat. For the first time in his whole career, his resolved wavered and he wondered why he chose to join the Army. He knew, too, that it was because, for the first time in his life, he just needed to be home. Leila gave him that. The downside was, it made it harder and harder every day to be away. He never felt this intensely about it all with his ex-wife. He always knew she wouldn't be pining for him.
Not that he arrogantly expected Leila to be. Pining wasn't even the right word. Rob rubbed weakly at his stomach, shifting a little to peel his sweaty bare back away from the rough canvas of the bed. All it was, was that he thought if he was missing her this much, it would be the same for her. She married him - they married each other - to try and keep a link while he was gone. He clutched to that during his down times, and hoped to God that this posting wasn't six months, or even more. One month so far, but it felt like he had been away from her for years. They hadn't had enough time, and now it felt like there was this gaping hole in his heart that spending time with her was the only way it was going to fill up. Of course, he switched off to it completely when he was working; he had to. It was his ability to do that which made him a good soldier. But there wasn't a single day that went by that he didn't miss her or want to go home to her. Now he was isolated and waiting to see what the next move was, he indulged in thoughts about Leila and home, wondering how she was going with the search for their home, hoping her cousins were taking care of her.
A large droplet of sweat slipped down from his forehead to his temple and melted into his already damp hair, short hair. He sighed heavily, looking up at the roof of the tent. If only one other positive could come from this, he knew it was that he would never take his wife for granted. It was quick, and they had fallen heavily, but she had fast become his world and given him a second chance at happiness. At least, right now he felt like he could stick out anything if she was going to be waiting for him at the end of it.
[Leila is doesntwaltz and referenced with permission]
Word Count | 977
Rob tried to lie as still as he could on his portable army cot, putting a hand up to his face to rub a thick layer of dirty sweat from his skin. He had stripped down to just his camo pants, his shirt in a messy pile on the floor beside his boots. The heat in the makeshift tent barracks was almost unbearable, but the combat he had been involved in the past couple of weeks meant he was well away from the 'comfort' of the main barracks. There were no little luxuries here. It was a temporary base and nothing more. Most of his belongings were left back at main base, including the laptop he had been keeping in touch with Leila on, and all the photos she sent him. He had the bare minimum of necessities housed in his pack, and it was just tough shit. This was his job, no arguments.
But the downside to the conditions he was trying to operate in meant illnesses could be rife, and Rob, along with four other men in his battalion, had come down with a strange fever. Three others went from having a high grade fever and borderline dehydration to ending up in the nearest infirmary with vomiting and diarrhoea. Right now, Rob was just praying with every fibre of him that he could halt this at the fever and raging headache. Every gunshot and explosion in the distance felt like it was stabbing him in the temple and drilling through his skull. The jury was out whether he and the soldier in the cot across from him were going to be choppered back to base for medical treatment. They were just waiting for the medic to come and call the shots. At this point, it looked like contaminated food or water could be the culprit. Rob didn't give a fuck. He just wanted to succeed in not giving into the urge to start to vomiting. He had suffered dysentery in the past during one of his postings in Iraq. He feared if he started vomiting, he might not stop. All the water he had been trying to get into him to ease the dehydration was sloshing around in his gut. If he moved, it felt like he was going to projectile vomit from here to the Afghan capital. He didn't feel good, and all he wanted was to be curled up in bed with Leila, and not trying to will himself to be fine.
When he heard his mate a couple of beds over give in and start retching over the side of the cot, Rob just closed his eyes in sympathy, swallowing and trying to think of as many cold things as he could to try and help his mind trick his body into cooling down just a little. Inevitably, his mind kept turning back to Leila. Two weeks since they had last spoken, he knew she had to be getting worried. All he wanted to do was dilute that for her in some way. If he got flown back to the infirmary, he might be able to get a message to her in some way, perhaps via a friend. That would be the one positive from falling ill on duty. He wouldn't be out in the isolated desert in the middle of nowhere, mid-combat. For the first time in his whole career, his resolved wavered and he wondered why he chose to join the Army. He knew, too, that it was because, for the first time in his life, he just needed to be home. Leila gave him that. The downside was, it made it harder and harder every day to be away. He never felt this intensely about it all with his ex-wife. He always knew she wouldn't be pining for him.
Not that he arrogantly expected Leila to be. Pining wasn't even the right word. Rob rubbed weakly at his stomach, shifting a little to peel his sweaty bare back away from the rough canvas of the bed. All it was, was that he thought if he was missing her this much, it would be the same for her. She married him - they married each other - to try and keep a link while he was gone. He clutched to that during his down times, and hoped to God that this posting wasn't six months, or even more. One month so far, but it felt like he had been away from her for years. They hadn't had enough time, and now it felt like there was this gaping hole in his heart that spending time with her was the only way it was going to fill up. Of course, he switched off to it completely when he was working; he had to. It was his ability to do that which made him a good soldier. But there wasn't a single day that went by that he didn't miss her or want to go home to her. Now he was isolated and waiting to see what the next move was, he indulged in thoughts about Leila and home, wondering how she was going with the search for their home, hoping her cousins were taking care of her.
A large droplet of sweat slipped down from his forehead to his temple and melted into his already damp hair, short hair. He sighed heavily, looking up at the roof of the tent. If only one other positive could come from this, he knew it was that he would never take his wife for granted. It was quick, and they had fallen heavily, but she had fast become his world and given him a second chance at happiness. At least, right now he felt like he could stick out anything if she was going to be waiting for him at the end of it.
[Leila is doesntwaltz and referenced with permission]
Word Count | 977