“Honey, it’s going to be hectic the next few days,” said Cooke as they walked up to the lounge at Daniel Field. “We’ve been invited to a going away party for one of my guys in my unit, at his apartment on Green Street. It should be a real blowout. It will probably be the last time we are together as a unit.”
“Cookie, do you think they will accept me, I’m a lot younger than most of those girls. I’ve probably had more real life experiences than most of those girls, but they have had more education than me, so it’s a wash-out. What do you think Specialist Sheridan?”
“You’re my tiny sparrow, it’s not a wash-out to me, you’re the clear winner.”
“Thanks Cookie, I needed that vote of confidence, now let’s go back to the apartment and spend some quality time in the sack.”
“Cheryl Ann, we’ve got less than three houses before the guys get home, do you think we have enough time?”
“We may not, but I know one thing baby, I’m going to wear you out. They will call you the Limp Cookie, you dig?”
“Yeah honey, let’s start back. Let me finish this cognac and pay the tab and we’ll go, said Cookie.
“Frankly Cookie, I was worried at first that you might end up going by yourself, because of my age,” said Cheryl Ann.
Green Street was only one block from the seediness of Broad Street. From Seventh Street to Thirteenth Street, on both sides of the street, were old two and three story houses. Some were abandoned by their owners to be turned into rental houses for college students and later on rented out to soldiers wanting to get away from barracks life and army overseeing. Some of the men from Cookies’ medical company rented a house on the eleven-hundred block. They had the two top floors, with back and front entrances. It became a place to go to for some of the men that lived on post. They would crash on the floor, if they felt that they couldn’t go back to the barrack, if they were too drunk or doped up.
The soldiers and their girlfriends began arriving early Saturday afternoon for their last party before they were shipped out. Most of the girls were “locals” but others like Jackie Troutman, who had flown down last night from New Jersey to live with Eric – as long as he was stationed stateside – were what the boys called “perms”.
Jackie Troutman was a tall, long-legged, olive skinned Jewish girl that fell in love with Eric Chambers when they were both enrolled at a small college in Northern New Jersey. She followed him down to Augusta, Georgia in the fall of 1967, but went back shortly thereafter. She returned after a lot of soul searching. Jackie told her parents that she would return to college, either a married woman or a woman scorned, or she wouldn’t return at all – to home or college. A lot of Jackie’s girlfriends had to make this same decision. Should they follow their men to the far reaches of the globe or stay at home and wonder if they would ever come home? These were trying times for them. They were living in a society that was in an upheaval. It was changing and they would have to change with it.
Eric pulled Cookie aside. “Hey man we got some traveling coin, do you know that I mean?”
“Yeah man,” said Cookie. “Did you score that morphine from the medical detachment?”
“I got a little bit Cookie, how much Eric, how about 150 pops.”
“Eric that is enough to take care of the whole battalion.”
“Yeah, I know man; Jackie and I are going to hitchhike to the West Coast, selling some along the way to finance our trip.”
“Where are you going to put that shit?”
“In our backpacks, Cookie.”
“If you get stopped just one time, it’s all over; you’ll spend the rest of your life in Leavenworth, Eric.”
“What about my share and the rest of our roomies? I’m taking your share with us.”
Cookie was a draftee. He couldn’t take 2 yeas of army life. He felt that he had given the army a year and a half of his life and that was enough. Anymore he felt would put him in the psycho ward. Now he felt was the time to get out.
Monday morning Cookie’s medical unit received orders to Fort Bliss in Texas and they were to leave within days. Cookie went to the company clerk to see if he could change the shipping orders to leave him behind so he could get enough time to formulate plans to get him out of the army.
Billy Kitchens, the company clerk of the medical company was short and stocky with jet black hair. He had an olive complexion, wore granny glasses and chain-smoked Camel cigarettes. His funny disposition endeared him the company commander and the master sergeant. They leaned on him for a lot of administrative decisions. They knew that he would give them the right answers for all military procedures.
“Cookie, I don’t know if I can pull this off,” said Billy. “It’s going to be tough. Let me start out with some emergency leave papers, then with something more permanent. I’ve got some buddies in D.C. that owes me some favors. Let me try them, while you’re getting your shit together to ship out. If we can pull it off it will be as illegal as all hell and I don’t know a thing about this, you dig?”
“Billy, I need to get out of this man’s army. I need to take a young lady with me. Do whatever you can do or as much as you can do, either way I’ll be greatly indebted to you. Call me at the apartment, I need to start packing.”