Henry: Presence

My platoon suffered huge losses defending the ammunition dump in the southeast corner of the Korean peninsula near the city of Pusan. Four of us had been left behind to safeguard the mustard-colored brick building filled with enough explosives to blow us to kingdom come and then some. I stood watch while the others slept. I was tired, homesick...scared.

As I paced back and forth to stay warm, early memories of my dad came rushing back—the time he painstakingly taught me how to ride a bike and as I took off on the first try, “a natural,” he laughed; the day he dropped me off at the bus that would whisk me away to basic training and when I whispered thanks for everything, he lowered his head and wept. Now it was my turn to choke back tears while I read my sister's letter by flashlight—our father was near death with pancreatic cancer.

Gunfire erupted in the distance and was promptly quieted by the boom of a tank. Scattered shots continued for a few moments more and then faded away. Nighttime returned to normalcy and the war-weary heavens released a stunning array of stars as a token of man’s inferiority—my own inadequacy was in prolonging my return, not wanting to believe he would die, until it was too late.

I looked down at my dad's flashlight that I had brought as a reminder of home and traced his initials etched in the metal. Every monster he sheltered me from in childhood, everything he taught me rose up to give me strength. Even in the dark, half a world away, my dad was with me.

I should have been there for him.

More Henry: Renewed | The Tree Stand | A Good Day | Downhill Racer

Henry: A Good Day

Two Koreans lay dead in the center of town. One had his brains scattered across the road about three feet from his body. The other looked as though he was taking a nap; the sun shone on a youthful face.

We were in a little village leading to a bridge over the Nakdong River. The day was very hot. On the other side of the bridge were the rest of the dead. Things had gone well for our platoon with only a few minor injuries and we had kept the North Koreans from advancing.

The GIs crouched low to the bodies to snap souvenir photos of the deceased. An elderly woman from the village quietly sobbed on the edge of the roadside ditch opposite the bodies. I felt ashamed that we were treating the remains like hunters standing before their big game kill.

We basked in success of the day, but in a few weeks we wouldn't be so lucky. Most of the GIs would soon be dead, but today, for us, it was going well.

Originally posted on the Axiom Report as "Henry's Life: A Good Day" on 3/4/2008.

Henry: The Tree Stand

A light snow had fallen the night before. The sun was breaking through the forest canopy trying to melt the crystalline blanket, yet it was bitter in the shade of the trees.

I squatted in my father's tree stand and froze. I had begged him to take me hunting and he finally relented.

"Why did you build the fort here?" I asked.

My dad smiled, "This is a tree stand, not a fort."

"Why did you build the tree stand here?"

"The well-worn path you see at the base of the tree, that's where the deer wander past on their way to the creek."

"Why is the fort, I mean tree stand, so high up?"

"You don't want the deer to see or smell us, do you?"

"No, I guess not." I said.

I loved spending time with my dad. It was being allowed into the adult world, a sneak peek or coming attractions, if you will, of the future.

I gazed at the can of Budweiser beer my dad was drinking.

He caught me looking and asked me if I was thirsty.

My eyes widened and I nodded with a grin.

"Just a sip. Don't tell your mother," he said.

I grabbed the can and took a sip as he instructed.

I made a twisted expression.

"That's awful," I said.

He laughed and took the can and patted me on the back. "Hank," it was the first time I remember him calling me that, "we have to be quiet now and wait."

I placed my finger in the snow that had collected on the edge of the tree stand and ran my hand along the side watching the flurries drop to the ground. I waited in silence with my father.

Though we didn't see a deer at all that day, I now know that I succeeded in a rite of passage.

Originally posted as "Henry's Life: The Tree Stand" on the Axiom Report on 2/29/2008.

Henry: Renewed

I watched him from across a crowded party. He was sitting in an upright chair slumped over rubbing his pale hands together and staring straight ahead. He was a gentle looking man with kind eyes and a bushy beard.

Someone offered him a drink but he declined. Others tried to include him in their conversation but he seemed distant, perhaps only half listening to the people around him swapping stories.

A person next to me whispered that he was dying of cancer and then I recognized his emotion. It was the unfocused gaze of a battle-weary soldier who's facing death. I experienced it fifteen years ago in Korea. Things that once seemed important became trivial while the ant crawling on the edge of a blade of grass prevailed.

I watched him from where I sat on the sofa with a twenty year old pseudo intellectual, who was using slang like dig and freak out. Since she brought me, I pretended to listen to her self-indulgent philosophies but my mind was on him.

He stood up and headed for the door. Through the window, I saw him having a smoke.

"Where are you going Henry?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" I said standing.

I walked outside and said hello to him and pulled out my own pack lighting one and inhaling deeply.

"This is probably foolish" he said waving the cigarette in the air.

"No, it's not," I said.

I wish I could remember what we talked about and tell you it was monumentally prophetic but life isn't like that. Yet these accidental moments can turn the tide in one's existence.

We looked into the house through the haze of smoke to see one woman dancing nude as a hippie was drumming away on some imaginary bongo. My date was sharing a joint with a young man her age.

Dusk was giving way to night. I dropped the cigarette to the ground and extinguished the remainder with my heel.

"The best of luck to you," I said shaking his hand.

"And you," he said smiling.

I began walking down the dusty road that led back to the main highway. I looked over my shoulder once to see him walking through a small garden adjacent the house. He was watching a cat swipe its paw at the fireflies as they lit the darkening sky and disappeared.

Originally posted on the Axiom Report as "Henry's Life: Renewed" on 3/15/2008.