'It ain't me, it ain't me-e, I ain't no senator's sooon, son.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate ooone, naw!'
The mouthwatering aroma of spit-roasted venison filled the small clearing, and the three weary soldiers sitting around it revelled in its warm, smoky embrace. The crackle of fire and the sizzling of heated fat provided a soothing backdrop to CCR's famous late-60s hit, and as the guitars and wailing voice reached a fever pitch, so did the cooking flesh; there was a pop as a juicy pocket of fat burst against the flames.
Perhaps the makeshift crew was at least a little bit fortunate after all.
Not just because of the delicious meal that awaited them, no. After all, they were currently on a top-secret mission, one for which they'd been promised extremely handsome compensation. Moreover, this top-secret mission of theirs granted them the opportunity to explore a strange new world that fewer than a thousand people back home had even the slightest inkling about. To top it all off, they were doing the whole thing in relative safety, thanks to the M1A2 Abrams tank parked near the edge of the clearing.
Tank X01, 0-0 CAV.
Against the woodlands that surrounded it, the imposing figure of Mary Sue looked rather out of place. A man-made beast encroaching in an image that would otherwise contain nothing but the beauty of nature untouched – and it was untouched no more indeed, a fact that the young, spring flowers crushed under the weight of the tank's pitiless tracks could very easily attest to...
The fire crackled loudly, spitting forth a flurry of sparks.
"I gotta say, dudes. This is kinda great. Don't think I've cooked meat like this since the last time I went on a camping trip with my old man. And that was like, ten years ago."
Sergeant Major Christian Waszniak pulled up a tuft of grass and began running it through his fingers as he finished voicing his thoughts. He watched with mild interest as the loose clumps of dirt crumbled off the end of the blades as he shifted them, and he felt the urge to keep tearing at the ground. He pictured his mother's scowling face.
Christian! Stop killing all the goddamn grass!
Like hell, he laughed silently to himself. He dropped the tuft he was holding and swiftly uprooted another one.
"Sure is. Sure is."
The man sitting next to him, Staff Sergeant Joshua Carson – a well-built individual who touted an almost uncanny resemblance to The Rock – stared into the fire pit while he nodded in agreement.
"Still, I'm gonna miss my family. Got pulled into this little romp on such short notice, and all I could tell my wife was 'yeeaah… I'm getting deployed somewhere I can't tell you about.'"
He frowned at the fire.
"She probably thinks I'm off fighting the North Koreans or some shit."
Christian laughed.
"Eh, you'll get to go home again in a few months. Just like any other deployment, really."
"Well sure. But in other places, you still get to call home and see their faces while you're gone."
Christian shrugged.
"I guess."
...
"No family?"
"Nah."
Eager to cut the conversation short, Christian grabbed a stick off the ground and began poking at the venison in front of them. He licked his lips.
"Hey, Lieutenant."
He turned to the woman sitting to his left.
"Think this is ready?"
At this, First Lieutenant Lydia Zhang looked up from the leather-bound Bible opened across her lap and glanced at the fire and roast. Within seconds, she too was taking stabs at their cooking meal; after a few moments, she smiled.
"Yep, I believe it's ready. We're good to start eating, y'all."
As Lydia closed her copy of the Good Book and tucked it gently into her bag, Christian struggled to hold back a laugh.
That "ya'll," he thought. That fuckin' ya'll!
Ever since the first time he'd heard Lydia speak, he had been nothing short of enthralled. Not in that way, though he and the other male members of the squad certainly weren't daft, and had noticed right away that the young lieutenant was quite the pretty lady.
Instead, he was absolutely in love with the fact that Lydia, a woman of clear Asian descent, spoke with an authentic southern drawl.
It was hilarious!
Still trying to suppress his mirth, Christian subconsciously puffed out his cheeks and let out a muffled snort. At the same time, Joshua had finally turned his eyes away from the flames – upon landing his gaze on Christian's ridiculous, pufferfish-like expression, he too started to laugh.
"Haha… The fuck you doin', man?"
Watching the two men, Lydia sighed and shook her head. Mild disappointment evident in both her face and the way she moved, she stood up and turned towards the olive green sleeping bag that lay at the foot of their tank.
"I'll go wake Kevin," she said.
And so she left. With Lydia temporarily gone, there was no longer a reason to laugh; Christian calmed down and Joshua thereafter, and the two sat in silence as they waited, the former electing to continue his genocide against the forest grass all the while.
Before long, Lydia returned, a groggy and disgruntled Lance Corporal Kevin Miller trailing behind her. They resumed their spots around the campfire.
"Can someone say Grace? "
'So you know that when you die,
He's gonna recommend you to the spirit in the sky!'
"And please turn off the music."
"Oh."
Joshua switched off his speakers.
"Thank you. So about Grace…"
Lydia glanced at the three men before her, who were all trying to avoid her gaze.
"I mean, shouldn't you have the honors, Lieutenant? You're like, our leader after all."
"Eh. I don't want the two of y'a– the two of you... snickering away while we pray."
She turned to Christian and gave him a meaningful look.
Christian gulped.
"Well, uh. I guess I can try?"
"Please."
"Mm."
The four soldiers folded their hands together, closed their eyes, and bowed their heads.
"Uh… God? Ah… thank you for this food. And… and… and uh... aw shit, man, I don't know what else to say."
Lydia sighed. Somehow, she knew in that moment that she would be sighing her heart out in the days to come. She cleared her throat.
"Our Father in Heaven – hallowed be your name. May your Kingdom come, your will be done, on Earth… and this new world… as it is in Heaven. We thank you for this food before us, and pray that you would see fit to bless us again tomorrow. Lord…"
Christian shifted restlessly.
"We do not know what the coming days will bring, but we ask that you be our guiding light – that you would lead us through these unknown lands, making us to act in ways that would bring glory to your name. Forgive us our transgressions, o' God, and may you keep us on a holy path."
She sniffed.
"In Jesus' name we pray. Amen."
The four soldiers raised their heads in unison, though they all wore different expressions on their faces. Where Lydia looked pensive, Christian looked mildly amused. Where Joshua looked impressed, Kevin looked like he was on the verge of falling back to sleep.
"God damn."
Christian clapped his hands together in what could, perhaps, be best described as sarcastically sincere applause.
"Looks like we got ourselves a pastor."
"That was… well said," Joshua agreed.
Lydia reached for the knife at her side and leaned in towards the spit.
"Thanks," she said.
Without another word, she began to cut away at the venison, the heat from the fire against her hands making the prospect of eating all the more tempting. When she was done, she skewered the resulting chunk of juicy meat on the tip of her knife. She brought it to her lips and carefully took a bite.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Mmmmmm!"
There was no need for her to say anything more. In unison, the others – even Kevin, who admittedly fumbled a bit in the process – grabbed their own knives and pounced on the roasted deer.
They reacted to the well-seasoned meat exactly as one would expect.
"Yooooooo."
"Wow, this is… Mmm!"
Christian dug into his piece and tore ravenously at the hearty flesh.
"Holy shit lieutenant. This seasoning you threw together. Fucking amazing."
"Thanks."
The blank expression on Lydia's face declared that she had no desire to elaborate. Seeing this, Christian felt his voice falter a bit.
Had he actually hit a sore point? Had Lydia been a dude, he'd probably call her something along the lines of a "fuckin' pussy" for getting mad about something like this. But as it was...
Perhaps I should apologize, he thought.
When he cleared his knife, going so far as to lick the blade clean of juices, he sat himself up straight and gently cleared his throat.
"Hey, uh, Lieutenant? I want to apologize. About laughing at the way you talk. But, you know, it's just that I've never met an Asian woman who speaks like you do before. I mean, that doesn't really justify it or anything. But you know... Sorry."
For a moment, Lydia considered glaring in response.
Finding herself unable to continue holding the appearance of stewing anger, however, she relaxed and chuckled softly as she leaned in to cut herself another piece.
"Eh. Don't worry yourself about it. You're not the first to do it. And besides… I'd probably laugh my ass off if you spoke with a Chinese accent."
"Ha! That'd be something else."
"It sure would."
Lydia smiled as she continued to work her knife.
"By the way, feel free to call me Lydia when we're just hangin' around like this."
"Oh. If you say so, Lieutenant."
Joshua clucked his tongue disapprovingly.
"You mean Lieutenant Lydia."
"No."
They all turned to look at Kevin.
"Keep it simple, you fags. Lydia. Call her Lydia like she asked."
"Hey now, who're you calling a–!"
Lydia smirked as the three men barreled headfirst into a heated name-calling contest. In more than one way – quite a few more, really – they were little more than children. Rowdy children who knew how to fight.
She bit down on a fresh slice of meat and savored the scrumptious flavor.
Truth be told… she might actually come to really like this hodgepodge crew of hers.
One day.