"AWOL? You think this is Nam, Joe?" 

"We could still go to Canada. I didn’t think there’d be a fuckin’ war. I just wanted a free education. This sucks." Joe opens another beer. 

"You serious, Joe? You didn’t think there’d be a war? That’s all our military does. We’re the fuckin’ USA, meddlin’ all the way!"

"Did you really think the Guards would get hauled to Iraq when we enlisted?" 

"Hell, I was stoned, walking down the hallway, when that asshole stopped me. Said he could get me outta class that day. Next week I’m enlisted. Those recruiters look for stoners."

"The principal probably gave him the pictures of students failing classes."

"Guys who couldn’t find Iraq on a map." Brian shoves the deck of cards aside. That game’s over.

"At least we can name this war Operation We’re Screwed."

"You and I are screwed, but not Bush and his great Americans, best country on this planet. Want to puke whenever I hear him make that speech. They’ll be watching us fighting on TV, just like Desert Storm. Heard an idiot on the radio talking about the price of oil being stable if we win this war quickly. Just last week this was a war over terrorism. Now it’s a war on heating homes for cheap. I thought people were protesting. Saying they’d wear long johns, walk, picketing the White House. I get so stoned I actually believed Bush would back down."

"He couldn’t find Bin Laden. He’s gotta get Saddam. They go way back."

"Who fuckin’ cares? You want to split? Head to Canada? My uncle did. Tells me his old man wouldn’t talk to him for two months after they were pardoned. Not a word. He sounds like a real asshole. Glad the old man was dead before I was born." 

"Now that’d be something. The Guards crossing the Canadian border. Leave the war to the Marines. The pilots. Brian, you may be onto something. Operation AWOL. Remember when we had to stand in the airport all night and day? Everyone glaring at us for doing our job?"

"I remember one old lady telling me she felt safer flying knowing we were there. She gave me ten bucks to buy something nice for myself. Bought some nice whisky. Felt like an asshole standing in the airport. Everyone knew we couldn’t do a damn thing to stop a plane from exploding. It was a joke. Another joke on us."

"Brian, we should split. Be our way of protesting. Everyone thinks we’re the wimps anyhow. Shit, most of us are only doing this for the tuition. The pay sucks. The weekend duty sucks. And we thought we were lucky we didn’t have to go to Egypt. Those dudes are the lucky ones. They spent a year bored to death, but they don’t have to go to Iraq. We’re screwed. Really screwed."

"We’re almost out of beer, Joe. Think we should get a case? Call the guys?"

"Some of those assholes would turn our asses in before we pissed this beer away. Brothers, my ass, Brian."

"Reed, Tyrone, Thurman, Kenny. They’d go with us."

"You might be right."

"This is weird, Joe. Remember that old woman at the airport I was telling you about? She reminds me of someone. An old woman I almost forgot. Riding my bike home from the pool, I’d see this old woman at the cemetery. One day she was cutting the dead leaves off the flowers, and I hid behind a tree, spying on her. She was telling the dead person he was looking real pretty, assuring him that they were taking real good care of him. I don’t know why I’m thinking about that now. Forgot all about her."

"We’re not going to end up dead."

"She’d tell him how much she liked his thick black hair. I heard her tell him how jealous she was over his thick curls. I kept wondering if she did something to him, cut his hair, something."

"We’re not gonna end up dead! Screw our free tuition. I don’t care if I ever drive a car again. I ain’t going to Iraq."

"One day I stole one of my sister’s wigs, a black one. Suzie had every costume possible in this big trunk. I was an ass. A real ass."

"What’dya do, man?"

"I glued that wig to the headstone. I was a dick. A real dick. After I glued it there, I couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Then I chickened out. Wished I hadn’t glued it there. Rode my bike home a different way to avoid the cemetery. A real prick."

"Maybe she liked it. Didn’t you ever check to see if it was there?"

"I didn’t go back all summer. I’m a coward. Why did I join the fuckin’ Guards? Got my old man off my ass. He kept saying it’d make a man of me. Hell, I can get shitfaced like him without joining the Guard. I really screwed up this time."

"Don’t be so hard on yourself, Brian."

"Jimmy says he ain’t never been the same since he came back from the Gulf War. Says his nervous system is totally screwed. No one will tell him what chemicals they really used. Says it feels like he has holes in his body. Like he’s falling apart. They have him seeing a shrink. Says it’s some kind of post-traumatic stress syndrome. Something without a cure. I bet those fuckers are telling him to be a man, get over it, fix those damn invisible holes."

"I ain’t worrying about Saddam using biological warfare. I’m afraid we’ll use it on ourselves. Screw up big time. Then blame in on Saddam. Bush says the game is over for Saddam. Game’s in our hands now and we’re the pathetic pawns."

"We should grab our shit and get on the bus tonight."

"Yeah. We should. Let’s get another six-pack first. Maybe Bush’ll change his mind. Call this damn thing off. I’m bushed."

"That a pun? It sucks. We’ll drink the beer on the bus."

"Think about your uncle. This war’s no different than Nam. Poets, preachers, probably the Pope is protesting it." 

"Saddam has the refineries rigged. Minute we attack, he’ll blow the bastards up. Guards will get the job of cleaning up the oil spill. Every environmentalist will hate us. Forget we didn’t blow the damn tanks up."

"We gotta split. How much money you got?"

"Let’s have a beer at the cemetery first."

"You’re losing it, Brian."

"And I ain’t even been to war. I’m a loser. A coward."

"The wig’s not there, Brian."

"You don’t know that."

Joe sees Brian’s close to tears and they walk to the liquor store without speaking. It gets like this. Everywhere. 
 
 

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