Writing About Redeployment [Categories: Life Choice, Course Reading, Re-Genre]: Please complete the following:
In the short story Redeployment by Phil Klay, Sgt. Price returns from a seven month deployment with the Marines. After coming home he realizes that everything is different know, whether that be the health of his dog or his own ability to live a normal life again. In the end, Sgt. Price must make the decision to shoot his dog in order to put him out of his misery, but was this in fact the right and the only decision? I took his collar. After it was over I took it off of him. I don’t know why; it just seemed like a good idea at the time I guess. I went home to Cheryl, and I handed it to her. It made me wonder if this is what it would have been like had I not made it home. It would have looked the same, I imagine. My wife, tears running down her face, unable to look at the person in front of her. They’d just be a different kind of dog tags I guess. That’s fucked up isn’t it? They call them dog tags. Maybe that’s because we have no choice but to turn into animals over there. I haven’t left the house in five days. I lie to Cheryl; tell her I went out for a run just so she’ll get off my back. I know she’s only looking out for me, but sometimes I wish she’d just leave me alone. She doesn’t know what it’s like, being outside with your head on a swivel, just waiting to gun down the next enemy. Only there’s no enemy and there’s no gun. There’s just Mrs. Anderson from down the block asking how I’m doing and why she hasn’t seen sweet Vicar around lately. It also doesn’t help that if I ever did come home, there would be no one to greet me. I did the right thing, killing Vicar. I put him out of his misery. He isn’t suffering anymore, lucky bastard. It’s been two weeks and I have to leave the house. I don’t want to but it’s my day with Weissert. I can’t believe how long we’ve been doing this, passing Weissert around like a hot potato, afraid that if he touches the ground he’ll fall apart, or kill himself. We all just feel so bad for the guy, losing everything the way he did. Although to be completely honest with you, he’s kind of lucky. He doesn’t have to keep up appearances. He doesn’t have to pretend that the man who’s back is exactly the same as the man that left. Everyone else seems to getting off so easy. Weissert, Eicholtz, hell even Vicar, they’re all free from the bullshit. I watch Weissert stumble out of O’Leary’s house clearly drunk even though it’s barely noon. He hoists himself into the car with a huff and tells me to drive, the stench of malt whiskey and stale cigarettes filling the cab with each breath he takes. I roll down the window. I don’t know where we’re going and neither does he, but there’s a comfort to driving I want to hold onto for as long as possible. He speaks first. “So what’s up man?” I can’t help but laugh. Civilian speech is still new to me, especially coming from him. “Not much.” “Well how is everyone? How’s Cheryl and Vicar?” “Cheryl is good. She works a lot.” “And Vicar?” “He’s gone. He was old.” “He died?” “I took care of him.” “You took care of him? Like ‘Operation Scooby’ took care of him?” “Yeah.” “Shit.” It is at this moment I’m so glad I’m driving. I don’t want to have to look at him. To see his face when I tell him I killed my own dog. It was the right thing to do. I’ve killed more dogs than I care to say. But this one, this one feels different. Killing here is not the same as it was there. There’s more emotion now, more of a sense of right and wrong. But he was old and in pain. It was the right thing to do. “He was old man. You should have seen him limping around the house. It was awful. I put him out of his misery.” He doesn’t answer me at first. After a while I finally bring myself to look over at Weissert. He is still and quiet, breathing evenly. For a moment I think he’s sleeping. Maybe he didn’t hear me. Maybe it didn’t matter what my reason was. And then he speaks. “Lucky bastard.”
1 Comment
10/3/2017 06:49:28 am
I enjoyed your blog on fan fiction and I completely agree with you.
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