Screaming Eagles

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Private Franklin Grillo sat on a hard cot and tried to put into words how he felt about his imminent departure. He’d been working on his letter for the best part of an hour. Back against the wall, legs cocked, and book firmly planted against his thighs. On the cover of Moby Dick, a novel he found as exciting as a cook book, he held a piece of paper and wrote with the whittled remains of a pencil.

It was dark outside, and some of the other graduates had gone out to have a drink and attempt to impress girls with stories of how they were shipping out to help with the war in Europe, or in the Pacific.

The name of the game was to get laid before they departed. Like a few others in his platoon, Franklin waited in his barracks, because he had a girl back home and didn’t want to give into temptation. At least, that was how he convinced himself that was the reason he was still here, and not out crawling bars like a tom cat.

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