I was there

                                                                By: Jason Henke

It was the last day,                                                                              
it was the first day,                                                                                     
it was the beginning of the end,                                                                                                           
or so we thought.                                                                                               

This is where I was when that statue fell,
waiting,
wanting,
tired and hungry.

The air full and thick
the stench of death and decay was heavy;
bodies left there
bodies of the living and the dead.

There was no time for thought,
no time for fear,
no time for comfort,
there was just time enough for survival.

The lack of sleep wore gravely on my face,
eyes sunken and blood shot,
acne pock marked acrossed my expressionless facade,
lips were dry, cracked and bleeding.

Trembling from the exhaustion,
eye's stinging with the memories of better places,
unable to swallow them with a dry and parched mouth,
starvation was now driving me to keep going.

It was a dark day,
smoke thick in the sky and destruction adorn throughout;
it was a day of light,
people cheering and throwing flowers.

People crying
for gratitude
for sorrow
for things that they had to do to just stay alive.

I was an invader, I was an occupier, and I was a liberator,
I was a Knight in shinning armor, and I was Death on black wings,
I was what ever you wanted to call me,
I don't care, I was there.

Spit on me, call me a baby killer and murder, or
pin a Bronze Star on my chest
and call me a hero,
I don't care, I was there.

Love me, adore me,
distain me, ignore me,
I did my duty, I did my job,
I care, because I was there.

Greetings from Paradise:

Well now here I sit,
on the brink of War,
the tip of the blade,
ready and waiting to be unsheathed.
Mission statements have been made,
Operation orders have been given and now
we wait here in silence,
in the proverbial darkness,
waiting for word from higher.

Emotions are running high in the ranks,
moral is setting into its highest levels.
But in the shadows, everyone thinks;
where will I be next week, tomorrow,
an hour from now?
The feeling of the unknown is not only scary,
but of course feared by most,
if not by all.

We do know where they are positioned
where we're going to hit them
and with what.
My only hope is
for those common Iraqi Soldiers to surrender
so blood shed would not have to be given.

This is not for them to die for,
or defend,
we are not ruthless invaders bent on the destruction of a nation,
but for it's Freedom---
The freedom from oppression,
death,
and of fear.

We do not bring bereavement to the innocent people of Iraq,<br>we have not been told to or even trained to,
but accidents do happen.
War is not a perfect art of Black and White,
but of many shades of grey;
between two sides of opposing view.

Which side you are willing to fight for,
that's what makes me get through my day,
and sleep during the cool desert nights.

In waiting,
I wish I can say I'm happy to be here,
fighting for a country that doesn't willingly want to send its sons
and daughters
to defend it.
But is reliant on another to send theirs
to possibly die for their Freedom,
or lack there of.

Wow,
there's a word for you, Freedom.
You never appreciate it until it's taken away from you,
or abused by others around you.
I sit here now, only 8 Kilometers from the border with Iraq.
11 hours ahead of the Pacific Time Zone,
and more then 7,000 miles from home, and comfort.

Sand and dust blowing about me in the a desolate place,
with nothing to stand on but uncertainty.
That isn't freedom,
but I stay here willingly,
with my brothers and sisters in arms,
to maintain the Freedom of so many that don't grasp onto it with talons
and wings,
to soar amongst the clouds to do as they please,
to flying on the up drifts of life.

For those at home,
safe in the cradle of the United States,
I hope,
I hope that you,
that you can not ever imagine the alienation of being a soldier,
so far from home,
in a hostile land,
where your kindness goes unlooked and unappreciated,
by those you defend
both foreign
and domestic.

I don't know if it's the solitude talking,
or just random thoughts put to paper, but
we hope for peace,
my brothers and sisters, and I, but
we are very ready for War.

I say this because by the time you read this
I'll most likely be heading north,
and fast...I love you and proud of what I am doing,
Thank you.

SGT Jason Allen Henke, US ARMY       

1-30 IN, 3^rd Brigade, 3^rd IN Div (M)

Intimacy

intimacy,
a private and personal utterance or action
you
and them
you are the only two on the planet at that moment in time
it's a private and personal utterance or action

ever been in a place with no time
where everything is standing still
a place where it is you and just the moment you are in
somewhere burned in memory, but just a blip in your life
ever killed someone
that is one of those times

the most intimate act a human can have with another
is to kill them
what is more personal then that
that for which the time you take from another
there life
in there death

to know after the fact that they once had a life
grew up as a child
had goals for existing
lived a life before meeting you
and now
they no longer survive, but only in memory

what could drive another human to end another
is it rage or is it cunning
or can it be a fact of him or i
ever been faced with that truth
you
or me

how do you deal with that
do you deal with it at all
do you bury it so deep inside your mind
you forget about it
but it happened and happened a lot
at least in my case

slow motion
the grittiness of time creeping around you
burning your eyes, and engulfing your every vision
seeing them alive and breathing
and then, seeing them dead and bleeding
in black and white, and then again in full vibrant color

wreathing there on the ground if it wasn't a clean shot
peering into its surroundings
looking around at everything
or at nothing
a lost look on its face as it torments its last living moments there on the concrete
what could it be thinking

it, why call it anything else
because if you do, than it is personal
you do know it was something
or someone
they had a life
and now they don't

crimson red flowing from wounds on the neck and chest
draining more then just the color from their body
but their life as well
eyes rolling in and out of the head
looking around for anything, for anyone
what are they thinking, what could they possibly be thinking

how could this happen
why did this happen
what could i have done to prevent this
why cant it be them and not me
oh the pain
mommy

inadvertently sharing that moment in time with them
that is the longest moment in your life
being there in that final moment
looking at them at there most vulnerable
that closeness you can't share with a human
more than once

intimacy,
a private and personal utterance or action
you
and them
you are the only two on the planet at that moment in time
it is a private and personal utterance and action

--Jason Henke

Flinging themselves out of the way, the unwitting Samaritans ran into the slowing masses of vehicles to get out of the way.  Mothers clinging to their babies, men putting their arms over their faces, they all complied with my sudden and abrupt order.  M-4 now in my hand, no one was going to get past me… no one.

Sitting their poised and waiting in my pill-box, I held up traffic with a little more authority then a simple show of my palm.  The convoy, led by HQ 6 screamed and turned by my position, Scout HUMVE's secured the flanks and front, while the M113 APC carried its precious cargo down the smooth highway.

Skidding into motion, Maxey broke free from our position and followed in hot pursuit of the Convoy.  Keeping the 25mm cannon pointed to the 6 o'clock I continued to hold traffic back.

On this same Freeway, not 3 weeks earlier, we were making a 'Thunder Run' for the center of Baghdad.  Vehicles were still on the Freeway, most of the occupants had fled in panic as they saw our Battalion and their own Army coming at each other in the streets and highways of the Capital city.  Although we had taken a swift detour to the north of the city, this was it, Abu Ghurayb.  This was the freeway we had used to come into the city.  I remember it. I will always remember it. 

There, under the same bridge that was witnessing the fate of our First Sergeant in the balance, stood a structure that saw the doom of a T-72 Republican Guard Tank crew.  Defending its position under the bridge, the tank crew sought concealment from the vastly superior American air power above.   Crouched and waiting behind a bend it sat.  Barrel muzzle pointed west, the direction of our advance into Baghdad.  Gutted busses and cars sprawled out like open corpses on the highway obstructed the tanks full view.  Civilian vehicles left behind by their occupants to be placed in our way to slow our advance made it a double edge sword that also effected the movement of the Republican Guard.

There in waiting it saw the first of our Abrams, and shot… missing its mark.  The crew of the M1-A2 Abrams tank answered with its own tank round, however this time hitting its mark.  The shear force of medal ripping through medal propelled the turret of the T-72 up and into the bridge cracking and breaking its foundation.

Foresight on members of the crew maybe told them to run before the Abrams shot, but it was too late for them.  They were too close to the tank when it exploded to be safe as the exited in haste.  Pieces of shrapnel ripped through their tender flesh making it a mangled mess on the thoroughfare. Collapsing in the cool shade of the bridge they left this world violently for a more serine plain of existence.

Bursting into flames the tank consumed the near by soldiers that were still alive but grasping to life.  The bridge, now scared today with the remnants of the small skirmish watched us depart the scene and disappear in the sun's brightness.

In a simple but swift act of insanity, our lives were forever changed.  I can say that about a lot of things in this conflict, but this is the most significant thing that will be forever burned in my memory, this day, this time, this place.  Now, once again, fear, sadness, and hatred trembled through my body as the wind blew in my face rolling down a freeway that once had seen so much carnage.

We had taken the rear in the formation of vehicles leading the charge down the barren black top. With my turret still covering the rear of the formation I waited, just waited for someone to challenge my authority.  Lest they forget, I have the biggest gun in these parts, and that makes me in charge.  No one came close to dispute my reign as king of this highway, they kept their distance, and all was well for them, for I would have used any excuse to execute my ultimate power.

"Maxey, keep on them…"

"…"

…the BSA was in sight.

With a stone face and a burn in my heart HQ 66 and the rest of the emergency convoy piled their way into the main gate of the BSA and MASH unit.

"Maxey, find a good spot to park.  I'll get out and get an update."

"…"

"I'll take that as a yes…" as I looked about the new place I was in, the MASH hospital had been set up in an old factory head quarters building, there was a high wall around us and what looked like almost every Battalion Field Train Head Quarters neatly tucked away in rows and Buildings.  Cooks, Medical Personnel, Fueler's, Food stores, Ammo, everything was here, even a HEMMIT truck full of orange bags of mail fresh for the sorting.

Neatly tucking our own vehicle out of the way of possible traffic I called up to Battalion Head Quarters, "Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6 Golf, over."

"Battle 6 Golf, this is Battle X-ray, go ahead over."

"Roger that Battle X-ray, break…"    "…the Ground e-vac has been complete time now, break…"  "The commander's, Battle 6 and Head Hunter 6 are here, break…"    "…Saber 7, and an element of Battle Bones are also co-located here, over."

"Roger that Battle 6 Golf, that's a good copy over."

"Roger Battle X-ray, I will follow up with further information as it becomes available, over."

"Understood Battle 6 Golf."

"Roger that, this is Battle 6 Golf out," placing the hand-mike down a-top of the turret I spoke into the CVC, " Maxey, shut her down, but keep the main power on so we can use the radio.  I'm going to get out and for the time being and you need to come up here and monitor the radio's and relay for me."

As the engine was shutting down in a silent compliance I saw the Drivers hatch lift up and a CVC Helmet come out.

"Hey Maxey, you alright?"

Looking up at me as he moved his hand through his sweat socked hair he looked into my eyes and gave a slow head nod.  "Roger Sergeant."

Giving my own side glance at him, I tried to read his demeanor but for once was unable to piece it together.  "Are you sure you're alright Maxey?"

"Yes Sergeant," he responded as he motioned me to get a move on and find out what was going on.  "Ill be here monitoring the radios, go and find out what's going on," he reluctantly said to me.

"Ok, roger that Maxey, I'm going to go see the Commander.  If you need to leave the Bradley, you can go over to HQ 6 and see what's up with Gifford for me…"

"Ok, Sergeant, what ever you say…"

Looking deep into the soldiers' eyes I tried to read his thoughts but was once again unable to do something that had earlier been so easy for me.  SPC Maxey had erected a fortress around his emotions that medieval kings would have been envious of living behind.

"Well, I'm getting up and out of here, stay safe…"

"Roger Sergeant."

Grabbing my M-4 and slipping my Kevlar on my head, I snapped the chin strap in place and fit the helmet snuggly on my head.  The sun blinding and bright was intense and just at above eye level.  The sky transitioning into a deeper tan as the mid-day sun approached. Securing my armored vest around my chest and body I gave a silent head nod to my driver and once again tried to read his emotions, still nothing.  "I'll be back Maxey," I left with as I carefully climbed out of the turret and down the face of the Bradley to the safe and security of solid ground. 

Standing firmly on the sandy surface, my legs were trembling.  The adrenalin still flowing in my body I was more in tune with my senses and was very aware of the blood flowing in the veins of my arms and legs.  Each pump of my heart was reverberated all throughout my body, making my skin feel tight and secure around my body. Sweat started to dribble down my face as the heat trapped by the helmet began to slow cook my skull.  My face sticky with oil and intermixed with dust began to twitch and feel prickly. "What do I do now?"  I silently questioned myself while tasting the bitterness of the after effect of adrenalin in the human body.

The Commander was with the doctors and had no information on what was really happening.  The medics that brought him in had handed him off as an ambulance in the states would hand off its patients to the ER, there was nothing more they could do but sit and wait, but for what?

"Specialist Melby…"  I inference to a scout friend of mine,  "…what happened?"

Looking up from his standing position near his HUMVE he responded, "Those fuckers, I could kill them!"

Taken back by the statement, I felt it physically around my heart.  I cocked my head and leaned in instinctively to gather more information.  "What do you mean?"

"We were escorting the C-O and the First Sergeant from the BSA when some fucking Ha-jee stopped in front of HQ 16, CPT Watkins vehicle.  He stopped so suddenly that the commander had to veer out of the way!  The First Sergeants vehicle, HQ 17 was following close and made the adjustment like the C-O did, but there was a van in the lane next to them.   The First Sergeant wasn't wearing a seat belt, and you know as well as I do we don't have doors on the soft skin HUMVE's so we can exit out of them faster right."

"Yea…" was my short response.

"Well anyway, SPC Sons hit the van with HQ 17 and the First Sergeant was ejected out," SPC Melby paused with.

"…and…"  I began to inquire. 

Eyes filling with emotion, SPC Melby looked at me deeply.  "He was crushed."

Taken back at the aprupt response, my eyes glazed over and my mind went back to the First Sergeants face the last time I talked to him.  Unsnapping my Kevlar I looked into the sky, still a deep blue with a wisping of cloud cover, I stared deep into the heavens.   "I just talked to him yesterday…"  I said a loud, but no one was listening, not even me.

"Hey First Sergeant, what's up!?"  I said from my sitting position in the Bradley.

"Do some push-up's hero!"  1SG Garza proclaimed as he walked toward the rear of Head Quarters 66.  "What, you don't stand at parade rest for me anymore soldier?"

Smiling and preparing my self for the front leaning rest position I was so familiar with in the Army while doing push-ups I sarcastically responded,  "I would never forget that First Sergeant!  I mean you've tolerated me for the last 2 years in both Bravo and Head Quarters Companies."

"That's for damn sure," he said with a smile.  "Get up hero.  I wouldn't make you do push-up's in this heat… I wouldn't want you to fall out and have the commander all in my ass because I made his Gunner do some P.T. in this heat."   He chuckled and said.

"Yea, its alright First Sergeant, I need it anyway… I need to lose some weight!"

"Wow really Sergeant Henke.  If you lost anymore weight you'd blow away with the next sand storm," he continued his playful jolt.  "Now Sergeant Henke, I came over here to ask you a question…"

"Uh oh… what ever bad thing you heard me do, I didn't do First Sergeant!"

"Shud-ap--- I don't mean that!  I'm asking if you want to re-enlist."

"Hell--- no First Sergeant.  No offence toward you, but this place sucks and I have far better things to with my life."

"Like what hero?" First Sergeant Garza looked up at me as I gathered my composer after ending my short push-up P.T. session.

Digging deep into my head I tried to pick out a relevant answer, I responded quickly, "To go to school, First Sergeant!"

"Right---- to go to School Sergeant Henke."

"No really First Sergeant, to go to school."  I reinforced my point.  "I have a plan…"

After waiting me to continue, he responded once again, "And that plan would be what---?"

"Ah, well, I don't really know just yet First Sergeant, but as soon as we're out of here and my window is open, I'm out of the Army!"

"Well, Sergeant Henke, that's disappointing to hear, not the fact that you want to get out and go to school.  But the fact that you are getting out and don't really have a clear view on what you want to do…"

Feeling a little embarrassed I looked away from his intensive gaze.

"Sergeant Henke, are you going to promise me that you are going to get out of the Army and make something of yourself, and not just get out like these other dunder heads and flip burgers at Hardee's?  I mean you're an outstanding Soldier and have progressed faster then most in your peer group.  You were an outstanding Training Room NCO for me in Kosovo and had a level head that never shot you astray.  Don't disappoint me and get out because you're upset with the Army right now."

"No, negative First Sergeant, it's just that I feel like I'm being left behind and missing a part of my life in the Civilian World."

"Civilian World?  Aren't you in the Army?"

"Roger First Sergeant, but I didn't come in the Army to make a carrier of it."

"Well you seem well on your way already Sergeant Henke, you're the Battalion Commanders Gunner, a position I might add is well above your pay grade and experience, however, you showed the powers that be that you could handle such a task and was awarded the position above all the rest of the 40 some odd Gunners in the Battalion to protect the Commander.  That's a position only awarded to the best Sergeant Henke, and your it."

Taken back from the statement I was wordless to respond.

"Sergeant Henke, you'd make an outstanding student in the civilian world and I would be proud to see you succeed as you have in the Army today."  1SG Garza announced, as he looked deep into my soul.  "Tomorrow Ill be back at the TOC to bring up mail from the BSA.  I want your final answer on this whole re-enlistment dilemma.  I genuinely care about your Future Jason, and I mean that."

Still speechless I stood there in his basking wonder, questioning myself, "Why does he care?"

As if he was actually reading my mind, First Sergeant Garza ended with, "I do care about you and the other Soldiers on this Company and of this Battalion.  I don't want you to make mistakes in your life that you will be unable to sort through, so Ill lend you a day to think about it Sergeant Henke."

Clicking back into reality I responded, "Roger First Sergeant."

"It's a good goal Sergeant Henke, school and all, you'll do outstanding, however just get yourself a plan before you jump shit and get out of the Army."

"I will First Sergeant, I won't disappoint you."

"You haven't yet Sergeant Henke… see you tomorrow."

Phasing my eye sight back into the present I could see Specialist Cody Melby starring into my thoughts.  "What are looking at Sergeant?"

"Ah, nothing Melby, it's nothing; I lost my train of thought after I took off my Kevlar."

"Yea, most of us come back into reality after taking that fucking brain bucket off, you on the other hand Sergeant are a weird one."

"Yea well…" losing my thought in the words.  "Anyway, I'm going to try to track down 'Battle 6'."

"Good luck Sergeant.  Just keep us up to date with what ever you hear… alright."

"Roger that…" looking into SPC Melby's eye's I left him and positioned my Kevlar back on my head, "…roger that Specialist Melby."

My esophagus starting to constrict more and more with every step I took toward the mouth of the Hospital.  Feeling my heart beat more and more I drug myself closer and closer to the entrance of the building.  Medics from our unit clung close to their vehicle and were ever watching the movement of the soldiers stationed in the Hospital, watching and waiting for word of success or failure.

Slowly rounding myself to the entrance to the Emergency room I could barely see what was going on inside.  The sun was too bright and intense still so it block out the movement of those in the shaded interior. Hauling myself yet closer to my objective I crossed the threshold and into the cool interior of the Building.  My eyes adjusting to the ease of the darkness inside I began to observe the Doctors and medics running about in an anxious pace setting me in a more intense mood again.  Seeing their faces of concern and listening to snid bits of conversations I could hear that things were not going so well in the Operation Room.

Seeing the Battalion Commander being briefed by one of the top Doctors, I could distinguish the intensity on his face, which brought great concern to me.  Making my posture more upright and proud I headed off in his direction taking off my Kevlar.  I could feel the coolness of the atmosphere on my wet hair for the first time in ages.  My senses beginning to focus only on sight, my listening and feeling abilities took a back step for my eyes.  Walking intently toward my Commander only feet away I was stopped… not by a physical altercation, but by a single motion. 

Observing out of the corner of his eye, LTC Gillman raised his hand and palm without looking directly at me. Like hitting a wall I stepped back and was set off balance by the sudden gesture.  Seeing nothing else in the world but a raised hand and an open palm I couldn't move.  Looking deep I still saw the open palm change, however it changed into a point in direction… a direction that lead my eyes out the door and into the brightness of the exterior of the Hospital.

Knowing my place in the hierarchy, I complied without question.  Taking a slow step back I turned on my heel and started for the door.  This time in a faster pace then what brought me in.  Slipping my Kevlar on my drenched head and squeezing the last of the excess sweat in my eyes and down my face I walked blindly out into the sun, out into the unknown.

"What'd you hear Sergeant Henke, what'd they say in there…?"  A flock of soldiers crowded me suddenly, "I know you know something…"   "What did they say to you…?"  "Come on Sergeant…"  "What did the Colonel say to you…"

"I…I…I don't know…" was my only broken response to the impromptu interrogation.

"What do you mean you don't know… You're the first mother fucker in the Battalion to get gossip, and you don't know what the fucks going on in there!?"  I was met with a harsh response.

"I really don't know, I swear…"  I was still at a loss for words.

"What the fuck!  I mean they have us out here in limbo and they wont fucking tell us shit!"

"I know I know I know..." I tried to calm the mob.

"What the fuck do they know!?  There all in here behind the wire with nothing to worry about while were out there getting killed and shot at!"

"Ok… ok… ok!"  I said trying to throw water on the fire, but now knowing how volatile the situation had become while they waited; it was like drenching a grease fire in the kitchen.  Sparks were flying and catching emotions on fire all around.  "The Commander motioned for me to leave.  He was being briefed by one of the Doctors as I came up to him."

"What did he say?"  One of the dazed faces asked me intently.

"I don't know…. He motioned for me to leave before I could utter a word to him, so… I don't know."

"Blah!" The frustrated Soldier said as he threw up his hands in surrender.  "What the fuck---!"  He screamed into the heavens!  "This is such bull shit… mother fuckin BULL SHIT!"

The pack gathering in closer and closer they needed someone to dine on and that was me.  "Why don't they come out here and tell us something Sergeant Henke?  They can't keep us waiting like this!"

"I don't know…  I've told you this over and over again, I don't know anything, and I wish I did, but I DON'T!"  I lashed back at the pack with a stick as I backed away and looked for safety.  "I've got to go report up to Battle X-ray on our current status…I'll be back."

"What status Sergeant… you don't even know what's going on around here, why are you going to go use the radio?  What are you going to tell them, huh? What? Nothing, that's right, nothing…. Because you-don't-know…"

"Fuck you mother fucker," I lashed out at the other Sergeant.  "This hurts us all; we are all standing here with nothing to report.  I know about as much as you do, and you know about as much as I do.  But there's an entire Battalion of hundreds, if not a Brigade of thousands that's out there just waiting next to their radios for any kind of word... anything at all."

Standing there in place the other non-commissioned officer had nothing to reply with.  A loss for words in his own mind he just stood there staring at me, deep into me, with eyes that could cut through solid rock.  Eye's red with pain and misplaced with thought he was lost and I felt his pain.

"I'm going now…"  I started to walk slowly back.  "Ill be back after I use the radio to call Battle X-ray.  I don't intend for any of you to lose sight on the mission at hand, but, but… just sit tight, and I'll try to find out something, anything…. Trust me… Ill be back."

There was nothing more for them to do but sit and wait, but for what? 

I walked back to the HUMVE, HQ 6 with a little more shuffle in my step… kicking up dust and dirt I began to trot to the parked vehicle. Noticing that Specialist Maxey had left the Bradley and walked over to HQ 6, he was talking to Specialist Gifford when I approached from the Hospital.  Looking up from their discussion with no emotion in their eyes, not asking for answers, not wanting to question, but a stare of hopelessness, of nothingness.  If there was ever a look void of feeling, this was it.

I picked up the hand-mike and pushed the button to talk.  The loud beep of the net responding brought me out of my own stare.

"Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6 Golf, over."

"Battle 6 Golf, Battle X-ray… we need a current Sit-Rep on the situation."

(Pause)

"Battle X-ray."

(Pause)

"Battle X-ray, this is… this is, Battle 6 Golf… At the moment, there is nothing to report, break…"     "…we have brought the casualty to the MASH unit here at the BSA, break…"    "Currently we are awaiting word from the doctors on his condition, over."

"Ah, Battle 6 Golf, this is Battle X-ray, break…"   "We appreciate the report, break…"   "Give the six actual the message that the Battle 7 element is on his way to the BSA time now, break…"   "…and will be seeking the six or yourself out for further information, over."

"Battle X-ray, Battle 6 Golf, affirmative, will comply with last, break…"     "Battle X-ray I will inform the six that the seven will be here shortly, thank, out…"

Maxey and Gifford had lost their transfixed sight on me and now looked into the nothingness of their minds emotion.  Not knowing what to say, I started off back to the front of the MASH to up date the Commander.  He met me half way, face red and eyes lost in thought.

"He's gone…he's gone Jason…"

With a body blow that vibrated my inner most sanctity I looked at my Commander, LTC Gillman and asked. "Say again sir?"

Moving on with the conversation Lieutenant Colonel Gillman took it without a step or response to my question.  "Get on the net and ask for his Battle Roster number from the TOC.  We're going to need to give it to the Doctors so they can report it up to higher.  I'm going to go inform the rest of the soldiers out here."

I had only walked half the distance, about 50 meters to the front of the building where they had been working on him.  Now I had to walk that distance with knowledge of something I didn't want.  It was the longest walk I had ever taken.  I knew ISG Garza from Bravo Company when I was a Soldier there.  I had worked with him very closely in Kosovo as his Training Room NCO, did his paper work, made his coffee and talked many a long hour with him about his family and mine.  But now, now it seemed all so far away from here.  Numb to the sounds of the outside world I walked.

I didn't feel anything, not remorse, not sadness, not even a desire for revenge.  It's hard to describe the emotion of nothingness, but I was feeling it.  Nothing existed around me.  The only thing I could think about was, now I need to get the Battle Roster number for a man I had known for 3 years.  A Man of 43, with a lovely wife, 3 kids, 2 of whom were my age, was now dead, and for what?

Opening the passenger door of the HUMVE, I spilled into the seat to just stare out the windshield of the armored vehicle, not realizing that Gifford and Maxey had not moved from the spots I had left them in, Gifford in the Drivers seat and Maxey with his arms crossed over the open Drivers side window.  They stared at me, but I didn't notice.  In slow motion I picked up the hand mike with the Battalion Net on it.

"SGT Henke, no one has said anything on the net since you left 5 minutes ago.  It's been real eerie.  I mean nothing like that ever happens, there's always someone bullshitting about something on there", SPC Gifford spoke to me on a deaf ear.

"Battle X-ray, Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6 Golf, over…"

(Instant response)

"This is X-ray, go ahead OVER!

"Battle X-ray, Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6 Golf, break…"   "Battle X-ray I need some information from you, over."

"6 Golf, this is X-ray… ah, what is it that you need from us over?"

"X-ray… I need the Battle Roster Number for Head-Hunter 7, over."

(Pause)

"Say again over.  I want to make sure I heard you correctly.  You are asking for the Battle Roster number for Head Hunter 7, also known as ISG Garza? Over."

"Battle X-ray, Battle 6 Golf, ah… that's an affirmative, over"

                (Pause)

                "Roger, stand-by"

                It was then I stopped looking sightless out the front windshield and over to my two drivers.  They had been clued in on what the conversation entailed.  1SG Garza was dead as a result of his injuries on the highway.  He was gone.  And I didn't know what to say to them, how to present such information to them, face to face.  What can one say as they have just lost someone they have come to admire and respect as not only a leader, but a figure to fill in a role as parent if need be when they needed it.  He wasn't only there as a 1SG to set the standard for the company and to maintain the discipline of his soldiers, but to act as counselor when we needed it.  Someone who provided us with that extra bit of dry humor he could have only bestowed on his own soldiers.  What could I say to my own soldiers?

                …nothing needed to be said, what was done was done.

The tears in their eyes welled up.  I saw their blue eyes come to grips with what had happened, and it hurt.  They were not only my soldiers, but also my friends, they were my age.  What life experience could I draw from in order for them to feel comfort?  I was feeling it too, but something held me back.  I didn't cry, I just looked at them and said;

                "We have a mission. You know what that mission is.  We three are here to make sure that the Battalion Commander will make it through all endeavors that he faces with us.  We are also here to make sure that we three make it through the endeavors he puts us in.  So be strong."

                (Pause)

                "Yes Sergeant"

                "Roger Sergeant"

                "Ok, now let's get going. I know the Commander wants to get back to the Battalion area as soon as possible, So Maxey, get the Bradley started and ready to move out with the commanders vehicle and Gifford.  We got you guys covered."

                Walking back to the Bradley just some 30 meters to the rear of HQ 6 I tried to pace with my driver to get his current view on the situation.Europe. 

                "Maxey, what's going on?"

                "…"

                "Maxey…"

                "…"

Feeling my heart begin to rip from my chest the fortress around my soul strengthened and fought back the onslaught of the invading emotion of remorse.  Observing my driver climb silently up the front of the Bradley and into his Drivers hatch I could finally see his face and his state of mind.  This time I could read what was going on, I could see the torment on his face, but still no response toward me, just action.

Still fighting back the invaders to my soul I rounded the corner of Headquarters 66, the ramp down I entered only to notice a new occupant.  Staff Sergeant Thompson, one of our Battalions top medics.  Still dabbled in Blood, from head to toe, smeared on his face and cloths it had hardened and dried to deep reddish purple. With a tear filled face he asked one question, and one question only.  "Why?"

Taken back by the sudden scare of the individual in my vehicle and the question he had waiting for me I was stunted and speechless.

"SSG Thompson, are you alright…"

"No…"  Was the response as his walls came falling down around his heart.  The tears started to flow and the wincing pain took over his face.

Standing there with nothing to say, and not knowing how to handle the surprise on my door step, I stood there.

Not thinking of anything to say my mouth spoke without the permission of my mind, "Are you alright Sergeant?"  My body bust from its rigid stature and broke consent with my psyche to lean in and comfort the pained friend of mine.  "I don't know why Sergeant…. I really don't, sorry…"  There was nothing more I could do, or say.

"Sergeant Henke…"came the chocked voice of my Driver, Specialist Cody Maxey.  "Sergeant Henke…the Commander is giving the hand signal of 'move out' Sergeant.  I think were going to be leaving now…"

"Roger that Maxey… start her up and prepare to raise the ramp in a minute.

"…"

"SSG Thompson, I need to go.  Ill meet up with you at the Battalion TOC when you guys get back.  The Commander and I are leaving now…"

With no spoken response, SSG Thompson drug his body heavily out of the chair that I was eating lunch in a few hours before and began to walk down the ramp of the Bradley.  At that moment HQ 66 started up and began to hum and vibrate under its own massive power.  Looking out over my shoulder I took off my Kevlar and placed my M-4 down on the floor of the Turret.  Seeing SSG Thompson sluggishly walk away I yelled out, "Maxey, the ramp is clear, raise it!"  With that the light became dark, and the armored ramp closed me into the safety of my Bradley.

Driving back to the Battalion TOC was the most silent ride of my life.  It was only a short distance that would take us 20 minutes to return to, but it seemed like an eternity.  Making our way once again through the western gate we had a new mission to accomplish now that we were home. 

Stopping at Bravo Company the Commander exited his vehicle to give a briefing to CPT Neumeire, the Commander of Bravo Company and associate of First Sergeant Garza.  The news was about as jeering to him when the Battalion Commander told him as it was when he heard me ask for the Battle Roster number over the Battalion Net.  Taking our time at Bravo Company, my old company, Maxey and I never moved from our positions in the Bradley, silently we waited.  My friends from my old company were mingling around their areas just now getting the word.   The news affecting them in different ways, some stood in silence, some began to cry , it was different for everyone.

Standing there in the Turret, with half my body exposed out, I had one hand on a radio hand-mike and another bracing myself on the Bradley. Looking deeply off into the horizon I noticed the colors changing as the sun sunk deeper and deeper.  Pinks and purples deepened while the higher colors still strung out in blues and tans.  We began to travel; with out an order Specialist Maxey knew to stay with the Commander as he moved out.  I was a passenger again and was riding along to a destination, the Battalion TOC.  Looking over my shoulder me company disappeared in the dust of our wake.  Without a word we vanished into the deeper portions of the Battalion Area.

Making our way into the gated TOC area we saw the numerous soldiers lining the edge of the road toward the center Headquarters.  With looks of concern all over their harden faces they looked to me for answers, what happened, how it happened, why did it happen?  I could hear them all in my mind, but what could I say, how can I say it?

Parking up in our defensive spot just meters from the Headquarters the ramp came down, the engine shut off and my Driver's hatch flung slowly up into place.  Like clock work, it was routine by now when ever we stopped.  I slumped back into the turret and disarmed my weapons, turned off the computer.  The main power remained on so we could listen to the radio nets, but nothing was being said.  I took off my CVC and sat it on the seat as I sat on the floor, crunched in the turret.  Not moving I stayed there, that is until my compatriot Sergeant Marangelli rounded the corner and placed his foot on the ramp.    Looking at me from behind his Kevlar he spoke, "So… what's up?"

Rolling my eyes I slid my butt out of the turret at crouched my body in order to walk through the cramped compartment to stand on the Ramp just outside.  Taking a deep breath in and stretching my body out I brought my glance down to SGT Marangelli's eyes, "Bull shit is what happened John, mother fuckin bull shit!"

"Major Desjardin said that there was going to be formation in about thirty minutes with Captain Watkins.  He's going too address the rest of the company here at the TOC."

Glancing about I saw soldiers walking in silence all about me.  Taking my glare to the Headquarters I could see one of my Soldiers, SPC Lovejoy crying and walking out of the TOC making a B-line for some safe place away from the radios.  "Look's like they just told Lovejoy…"  I said in a lost tone.

Following my gaze Sergeant Marangelli grunted in an approved response.  Then feeling his eyes come to me again he said, "So how's Maxey taking it?"

Bringing my watchful eyes away from where SPC Lovejoy had run off to and down to the ground I responded.  "He hasn't said a thing to me since we arrived at the accident."  Still looking down I shook my head in disparagement.  "I don't know what to say to him.   I just know I have to say something."   Looking back at Sergeant Marangelli I was looking for advisement.

"Well I'm in the same ship you are.  We both have been in the Army the same amount of time and have done the same amount of shit.  I wouldn't know where to start…"  SGT Marangelli ended with.

Sitting down on the edge of the ramp, Sergeant Marangelli took off his Kevlar and joined me there.  Sitting there in silence we waited for formation.  It could have been in 5 minutes, it could have been in 5 days; we sat there, and waited, silently.  Not knowing what to say to anyone, or each other, we sat there and reinforced our parapets and walls surrounding us.

Dazed and still confused, the soldiers of my current company, Head Quarters Company gathered around the rear of my Bradley to form lines and platoons.  Not wanting to fall-in I reluctantly found a place in the rear and stood at attention with my Kevlar on my head and my weapon slung on my shoulder.

"FALL-IN!"  Was the order from Captain Watkins.  "Alright men.  I'm going to fall you out and then I want you to fall in around me a take up a horse shoe formation… Fall—out!"

                Everyone gathered. It was at that point he broke what had happened on the highway.  Not in gory detail, but in facts about the situation and what had gone arise with the convoy.  He then went on to say some few but good words about ISG Garza.  It was then he locked eyes with me and mentioned, not to me per say, but to everyone. 

"He touched our lives in many ways and on many levels…"

It was then that the flood gates opened up and the blinding tears of remorse and tragedy came to overflow the levies of my mind.  I couldn't stop.  I didn't know what to do but stand there… and let them go.  My face hot with emotion, I cried.  For the first time in months, I cried.  I was still human and I could express emotions.  Up till then I was a stone figure hard in the minds of my soldiers, peers and superiors alike. That all cracked and crumbled away, and I didn't care.  This was my tragedy as well.  How could this happen?  How could ISG Garza be dead?

Breaking from my the semi circle formation I turned around and flung my Kevlar in the Troop Compartment of my Bradley making a loud trashing noise as it tumbled about on the hard medal floor boards.  No one stopping me I threw my M-4 to join its compatriot, my Kevlar on the floor of the Bradley.  "Why---?" I cried out, "Why!"

Sniveling and blindly walking to the front HQ 66 I tried to hide from the other soldiers in my company, I tried to hide from my soldier, my friends and all the others in my life, I just wanted to find a hole and bury myself in it.  It hurt, and hurt down to the deepest chasms of my soul effecting my on all levels.

I stood there looking into the sky for answers, but there was nothing.  I was alone once again, amongst so many others, but I was so alone in my life.  More then seven thousand miles from home I could have been on a whole other planet, I was alone and didn't know what to do…

"Roster Numbers"

By: Jason Henke, SGT

                "Hey Maxey!"

                "Yo, Sergeant what's up?"

                "Hey come on back here for a minute.  Gifford and I are sorting through the M.R.E. Boxes and wanted to know if you wanted the Chicken Cavatelli?"

                "What are you having Sergeant?"

                "Well, I picked out number 15, the Beef Enchilada, and Gifford's having Beef Stew from the last of the 'A' Box."

                "Yea, save me the Chicken Cavatelli, Ill be back there in a second," the voice of my Driver Specialist Elias "Cody" Maxey beckoned to me from his drivers hatch of Headquarters 66, the Bradley Fighting Vehicle that we shared as a crew for the Battalion Commander of 1^st Battalion, 30^th Infantry, LTC Wes Gillman.

                "Damn it's getting hot out here", Specialist Aaron Gifford said a loud as he squinted his eyes and stared out into the late April afternoon.  "I knew Iraq got hot, but not this hot."

                Losing my own sight in the luster of the mid afternoon sun and feeling the burning intensity of the light on my face I began to misplace my thoughts to a time and place of my up bringing.  Remembering my first time at the beach and the brightness of the sand and heat of the sun on my body, these memories were bringing an invigorating emotion to what has become a dismal place in my life, Baghdad, Iraq. 

                "Where's lunch, I'm hungry", SPC Maxey shattered my utopia with as he piled into the back of the Bradley and took up residence in forward part of the troop compartment.  Slamming his rifle down and throwing his Kevlar on the shelf behind me, Specialist Maxey began to clear a space at his feet to stoe his Meal Ready to Eat (MRE).  "Where's my MRE?"

                "Here you go you loud ass mother fucker," SPC Gifford said with a smile on his face as he tossed the Chicken Cavatelli MRE at Maxey's feet.  "You always have to make an entrance, don't you?"

                "Wha'--- I didn't do anything wrong!"  SPC Maxey sarcastically said as he tried to hide a smile.

                "So Maxey, how hot do you think it is today?  You are from Las Vegas and you're used to hot ass weather, right?"  I questioned to redirect the conversation.

                "Sure Sergeant, yeah, well, I guess I could say it's around the high 90's right now…"

                "…damn, and its only April," SPC Gifford cut in.

                "Well its April 28^th, so technically we are almost into May and only 27 days till my birthday, right?"

                "Sure Sergeant---", Gifford assured me with a side glance and a smile on his face.  "Well today is Saddams birthday, right?"

                "Yeah and they still haven't caught the mother fucker yet," SPC Maxey added with no prejudice in his tone.

                "Hey now, you never know about that rat, he could be anywhere in this place.  I mean he is only one man out of nearly 50 million people in this country," I proclaimed.         "It shouldn't matter.  Everyone knows what the fucker looks like and no one likes him," SPC Maxey defensively retorted.

                "On the contrary Maxey, he still has a lot of supporters out there, and who knows, he could have been killed already and laying in some buildings rubble or even living in Syria in exile.  It could be any number of things!"

                "It don't matter anyway," SPC Gifford supplemented my argument with, "He's going to be found and then its going to be all over with for him, whether or not he's dead or alive!"

                Opening the MRE and rummaging through its contents, I knew exactly what to expect in number 15, the Beef Enchilada; 1 package of Jalapeño Cheese, 1 package of Vegetable Crackers, 2 Chocolate M&M Cookies, a Beverage Base powder, and the Beef Enchilada meal itself.  Extracting the contents and laying them neatly on the floor boards at my feet in the Bradley Troop Compartment I separated the portions of the meal that needed to be heated from the portions that could be eaten with out the luxury of warmth.

                "Hey guys, what's up?" SPC Lovejoy came to the foot of the ramp to announce.  "Having lunch a little late aren't we?"

                "Don't you have shit to do in the TOC Lovejoy?"  Maxey retorted.

                "Well, so sorry I was able to escape for the moment and come see what you guys were up to," SPC Lovejoy said as he stood in the bright sun.

                "Come on in and sit in the shade," Gifford tried to coaxed SPC Aaron Lovejoy in.

                "No-- no, I see where I stand with some people," staring at SPC Maxey.  "Ill just locate myself out here for a few and shoot the shit with you two," Lovejoy said referring to Gifford and myself.

                "Humph…" was the response to what was a silent SPC Maxey.

                Looking from Maxey to Lovejoy I turned the subject away from the tension at hand and into local events.  "So RTO (Radio Transmission Operator), what's going on in the Battalions Area of Operation today?"

                "Nothing much Sergeant, err, Bravo Company has a Platoon of Bradlies and dismounts in the Market place of the Ash Shu'lah district to our north, while Charlie Company has two Platoons at the UXO (Un-Exploded Ordinance) Site with most of the Alpha Company 3-17 Engineer.  There all there still cleaning up the mess from what was left behind …"

                "Have you been out there yet Lovejoy," I asked the young soldier.

                "No negative Sergeant."

                "You should really go.  There is so much ammo stored in that neighborhood its no fucking wonder in all this heat that it doesn't start cooking off and come raining down on the people over there."

                "Yea Roger Sergeant," Lovejoy agreed with. "But we have been doing a lot of clean up with the locals over there.   I mean First Sergeant Garza and the C-O, Capt. Watkins have been taking load after load of that shit to a holding site way on the western edge of the city half way between here and Al Fallujah.  The Brigade is storing it there and burying it so no one can get to it."

                "Yeah well I think they're just storing it there until they can properly dispose of it.  I mean they can't keep all those artillery and mortar rounds the Republican Guard left behind out in the open or in a hole, its going to have to eventually go somewhere."  I thoughtfully rebutted.

                "Hold-up…" SPC Maxey cut in with.  "You mean that shit still hasn't been cleaned up yet?"

                "No and I don't think it will be for a long time.  There's still an ass load of that shit laying around in our own perimeter, in all those partially built houses just south of us and north of the Mother of all Battles Mosque."  SPC Gifford added while stepping into the conversation.

                "Yea there's enough ammo to be disposed of in our small five square mile area that our Battalion alone will be kept busy for 24 hours a day for the next 2 weeks," Lovejoy said as he looked at SPC Gifford.

                "Well, were getting good at making it disappear, we've been at it for two weeks as it stands now.  There is more UXO and ammo lying around in our neighborhoods to out weight all of what's on Fort Benning alone," I finally added.

                "Damn, I'm glad I don't have to live here…" SPC Maxey said quietly as he started to take a hefty mouth full of Chicken and Cavatelli.

                "Technically you are living here Specialist Maxey, so technically this is your home... for now."  I further said as I took my own heaping bite of my meal.  Feeling some of the sauce drip on my chin I quickly whipped it away with my sleeve making a deep maroon smear on the fore arm.  "Shit!  I fucking hate it when I do that, now I'm going to have to clean this DCU top again!"

                "Ha-ha-ha-ha…" was the playful response as SPC Maxey, Gifford and Lovejoy tried to hide their laughter at my misfortune.

                "All of you are going to fucking do push-up in a sec…"  I said with no real intention of doing so.  "How's your Mom Maxey," I quickly took the conversation in a more subtle direction.

                "She's getting better, her Diabetes has simmered down again and she's out of the hospital."

                "That's good to hear."

                Continuing with the small talk SPC Maxey went onto in saying, "How's your sister Shannon, got any new pictures?" SPC Maxey giddily said.

                "Hey, quit while you're ahead Maxey.  Don't go there," I said with a defensive posture.  "I'm going to write to her after lunch.  It's hard to pick on a subject to talk about with her.  I mean, this whole War, I really don't get to into the details with anyone I write too.  It's mostly the, hey I'm still alright, still doing well and I would love to come home any time now!"

                 "Yea that's the same with me" Lovejoy surprised me and said.

                "Shit, I forgot you were still standing there Lovejoy," I said.  "Get your ass in the shade…. Your making me feel hot standing there baking!"

                "Nah, I'm good Sergeant.  I need to get back to the TOC anyway, I'm sure the place is falling apart without there bitch boy radio operator in there to answer all the calls!"

                "Yeah, I'm sure it is falling apart," I laughingly responded.  "Get back in there and find out when the mail is getting out here."

                "Roger Sergeant.  I know that First Sergeant Garza and Company Commander, Capt. Watkins are bringing it up this afternoon."

                "I thought they were helping with the clean up," SPC Gifford questioned.

                "Nope, not today, the First Sergeant and C-O of Alpha 3-17 are picking it up for the next few days, so 1SG Garza and CPT Watkins can get back to running things back in the Field trains located in the Brigade Support Area near Abu Ghurayb," SPC Lovejoy said as he began to step back and place his Kevlar helmet on his head.  "Well, I'm outta here guys… and ah, Sergeant," SPC Lovejoy quickly said as he extended a defensive arm and hand out in my direction. "Ill catch y'all later!"

                "Get outta here Specialist", I groaned as I watched the soldier trot back into the Battalion Tactical Operations Center (TOC).  Looking back at Maxey and Gifford I noticed them packing up the last of their lunch into the MRE bag, "Damn you guys are already done?"

                "Roger Sergeant," SPC Maxey retorted, "Not all of take forever to eat," he smiled and said.

                "Bye Maxey…"  I said with some candor as my driver whisked by me and out into the open sun.

                "I'm going up to take a nap in the 'hell-hole' Sergeant…" SPC Maxey said as he placed his Kevlar on his head.  "It's going to be a boring day anyway… just wake me when the C-O and 1SG get here with mail."

                "Hey, just be ready as always to get out of here in a hurry if anything should happen,"  I ordered.

                "Nothing has happened in days Sergeant, just relax, you're too up tight about shit, but yea, Ill be ready… and tell your sister Shannon I said hello, and I mean it."

                "Roger that Specialist!" I said a loud.

                Smiling and lumbering back to the front of the Bradley Specialist Maxey disappeared from site.  "See ya Sergeant…"

                Bringing my attention back to Gifford I began to ask, "So what are you going to do with the rest of your day?"

                "Well Sergeant, I'm not going to go take a nap if that's what your inferencing.  I think I'm going to continue reading that book you gave me from the Dragon Lance series, its getting kind of interesting to read."

                "Well whatever, I'll be in here finishing my lunch and starting on my letter to my sister."

                Packing up the last remnants of his MRE Specialist Gifford began to search for his rifle and Kevlar.  "Ill be right back Sergeant," and with that he was gone.

                Leaning back in my uncomfortable troop chair, the back of which grinded heavily in my spine I looked up at the pale green ceiling of the troop compartment.  "What am I going to write about today," I pronounced a loud to a non-existent audience.  Rolling my eyes back into my head and absorbing the heat of the day into my psyche I lost myself in thought…

*              *              *

                "SERGEANT HENKE!"  A voice a loud came to my consciousness.  "Sergeant Henke…"  The tone was clearer to me as I came back into the world and began to give a confused look about.  "First Sergeant Garza is hurt," yelled my Battalion Commander, LTC Gillman as he ran at me putting on his Kevlar Helmet. "Get '66' ready, and follow me out the gate with Maxey."

                Speeding into action, the juices of my mind began to flow clearer.  "Maxey get the fuck up and start the Bradley, raise the ramp, lets get the fuck out of here!"  I screamed into the 'hell-hole' as I began to throw objects about to clear my path into the Turret.  "Raise the RAMP, the Colonel is already backing out of here in the HUMVE!"

                 "Did he just say that the First Sergeant was hurt," SPC Maxey yelled back over his shoulder."

                "Yeah, raise the ramp up and back '66' out of here!"  I said over the roar of the newly started engine.

                "Roger Sergeant!"

                Putting my CVC Helmet over my head and slipping it down past my ears I turned around to start the radios.  "Just back up out of here Maxey, I'm not going to ground guide you, I trust you know your way out of here… just stay on Gifford's ass in HQ 6."

                "Not a problem Sergeant!" Hearing the response of my driver through the CVC helmet, the muffled sound of his transmission was breaking its way through the new sound of the dual radio channels babbling in our ears.

                Turning about in the commander's seat to face forward I began to turn on the other gizmos in my Turret… next on the list was the tracking computer, then, arming the 25mm gun itself.  Reaching under the M242, I searched around with my naked hand for the manual arm switch.  "Found it!"  I said to myself as I turned the butterfly switch into the 'Armed' position.  Specialist Maxey started to back the Bradley out of its position and onto the hard concrete of the Battalion TOC area I on the other hand braced my arms and legs in the turret as the movement violently threw me about in the seat.  With a rev of the commanding engine I was flung against the back of the turret.  My head knocking back against the radio's I began to gather my composure and look about for all the commodities that I needed for this impromptu mission.  Rifle, check, Radios, check, Computer, check, 25mm, check… looking down at my right hand I began to see red flow from the top of my hand.  Pieces rolled flesh and skin hung onto my hand as a last attempt for life.  Warm liquid began to flow and a sting of pain began to permeate from the new wound. "Damn" I announced a loud!

                "What's going on Sergeant?"  SPC Maxey said concernedly over the CVC.

                "Nothing, just keep going, I'm down in the turret right now getting shit ready… just keep on'em Maxey, I trust you to get us to where we need to go,"  saying in a lost voice to myself and to Specialist Cody Maxey.  "Stay on them…"  I finally ended with as I brought my hand to my lips to clean the blood away.  Tasting the metallic warmth of the blood it began to seep into my teeth and around the walls of my mouth.  "Damn…" sucking in air to make a hissing noise.  Grasping my right hand with the comfort of my left I looked at the scrap a little closer…. Nothing but a small abrasion inflicted by the violent movement of the Bradley's 25mm gun and my hand.

                Bracing myself and slowly lumbering my body up and out of the Commander's hatch, I emerged to the bright sun in my eyes.  Looking away, I saw the members of the Battalion TOC pour out of the tent door to watch me whisk away.  Faces blank and staring, they had nothing to say, and further more, nothing to do as they helplessly stood there in the mid-afternoon sun.  Rounding a sharp curve just a long side the M577's of the TOC we straightened our vehicle for a one line shot to the front gate.  Digging deep into the black top, the Bradlies tracks slid and pealed as the heavy engine and vehicle dug in deep to find the burst of power that would take us closer to the Commander and his HUMVE not but 50 meters to our front.  "Punch it MAXEY!"  I screamed into the CVC.  "Go-go-go-go!"

                Feeling the hot sun on my neck I dazedly looked left and right of my vehicle as more soldier came out from their shaded hiding places to watch Head Quarters 66's out of character actions as it flew at top speed down the narrow road and past them in the Water Processing Plant we called home.  Knowing that no one was allowed to go over 5 mph in a zone like this, and let alone not have someone ground guiding from the front was completely out of place and the astonished soldiers faces looked deep into me as I looked back.  "First Sergeant Garza's hurt… we need to get the hell out of here!"  I yelled out over the roar of my passing Bradley.  The shock and awe the flushed over their faces left them standing there deep in question and concern as I continued to look back over my shoulder.

                "The Gates open Sergeant and the Commanders already through it…"

                "Roger that Maxey, Ill call him over the Radio and get a radio check, and ask him to hold down his speed.  His HUMVE is faster and more agile then our Bradley."

"Battle 6, this is Battle 6 Golf, over!"

                "Battle 6 Golf, this is Battle 6 go ahead…"

                "Battle 6, this is 6 Golf, roger sir, I'm conducting a radio check over."

                "Read you loud and clear 6 Golf.

                "I read you same Battle 6, break…"  Pausing between transmissions…  "Battle 6, this is 6 Golf, roger sir, please be advised, HQ 66 can not keep up with you at your current speed over."

                "Battle 6 Golf, roger, I understand, and will advise my Delta to slow his speed down until you come up closer to me, break…"  Pausing between transmissions… "6 Golf, advise your Delta that when we get out on the open road to stay on my tail as much as he can."

                "Battle 6, this is 6 Golf, will-co, over."

                "This is Battle 6, out."

                Placing the hand-mike down on top of the turret I turned my attention to my current status. "Maxey, you there?"

                "Roger Sergeant," I heard the distant voice from down below reply back with.

                "You heard the Commander right?"

                "Yes Sergeant…  I'm trying to get up to him now, but this soft sand is kicking up a lot of dust here, and I can't see more then 5 feet in front of me.

                "That's alright Maxey, I got ya… I can see.  Just keep on your current course and we'll make it onto the east/west road and out the perimeter of our Battalion assembly area," I said as I put my goggles on and around my CVC helmet, wiping away the old dust to make room for the new.  I could see our current course that took us south to the East/West road that intersected our assembly area.  Just beyond my sight, about a kilometer away I could gaze upon the green-blue dome of the 'Mother of all Battles Mosque' and the reflecting pool that stood on its northern flank.  The minarets that surrounded the beautiful structure looked in the distance like Scud missiles pointing into the heavens.  A visual its builder wanted when it was constructed around a decade ago.   Its designer was Saddam Hussein, and he constructed it in honor of his military 'victory' over the Coalition lead by America in 1991.  Only being a vastly larger piece of propaganda Saddam used its beauty to over come its false pretences. The Mosque held a sacred copy of the holy Koran written in the blood of Saddam himself.  Once again another example of his crushing influence on the nation of Iraq.

                Looking left and right, I could see the partially scattered and constructed homes that lay in our area.  Nothing but more lies built by a mad man, for these homes would never be occupied by humans.  They were erected as cover and concealment for the massive amount of Arms and Ammunition that was stored in the Northern reaches of Baghdad.  Knowing that the United States would never willing bomb houses and neighborhoods, Saddam and his Generals hid these pieces to the puzzle all throughout the region to throw us off guard.  Now they were ours…

                Skidding onto the East/West road and past Bravo Company 1-30, a plume of dust caught us in our wake.  Over taking the Bradley, the warm cloud filmed my nose and lungs with a hot grittiness as I took a deep breath in.  Coughing and holding on, my Driver, SPC Maxey swerved onto the partially constructed service road and headed due west to the main gate going into the neighborhood of Shaykh Hamid.  "Maxey, there's the medic track and HUMVE… let them join up between us and the commander…we'll take rear security."

                "Understood Sergeant, I see'em just ahead near the west gate."

                "Maxey, use as much of your skill as my driver to get us out of here and onto that road!"

                "Roger Sergeant!" was the response of my driver.

                "Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6, over."  I could begin to hear the radio conversation in my CVC Helmet.  Specialist Lovejoy was on the other end of the hand-mike in Battle X-ray, our Battalion TOC.

                "Battle 6, this is Battle X-ray, go ahead sir."

                "Battle X-ray, this Battle 6, roger, the HQ 6 and HQ 66 victors are leaving the outer perimeter time now, break…"  "We've picked up 'Battle Bones' and are conducting escort procedures, break…"   "Battle X-ray, we are leaving the west gate time now, with 4 victors, and 11 PAC's, over."

                "Battle 6, that's a good copy, break…"   "Four victors and 11 PAC's on Medivac mission leaving the western gate time now, over."

                "Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6, break…"   "What are the coordinates to the Head Hunter 6 and 7's last known positions, over?"

                "Battle 6, this is Battle 5, over."  Major Shultus the Battalion Executive Officer came over the Battalion net.

                "Five, this is six, go ahead…"

                "Roger six, this is five, sir there last known grid was Mike-Bravo 2-5-4-5-8-7-6-0, last known location was near the under pass just outside the neighborhood of Abu Ghurayb, on the hard ball, over"

                "Understood, I copy MB 25458760, over."

                "Battle 6, that's a good copy over."

                "Battle X-ray, Ill update further.  Clear the net and wait for emergency traffic, out"

                Looking down at my map and the number I copied on my left hand.  I compared the grid to the map I had in the Bradley.  Tracing the distance from where we were to where we had to go, it wasn't far, just some 11 kilometers or 5 miles. 

                Blaring through the west gate the soldiers on guard had to jump out of my way as we shot through the narrow passage.  The Guards had already cleared traffic in both directions as we blazed acrossed north bound traffic up and onto the center median.  Skidding a hard left turn we righted ourselves and were underway through south bound traffic.  The road we were currently on had two lanes of traffic on either side with a flurry of people and cars bustling all over it.

                 Weaving in and out traffic made it an exceptionally difficult task to keep the convoy in perspective.  Head Quarters 6, with the Commander and Gifford, were in the lead.  The two medical vehicles we had picked up just inside the perimeter consisted of an M113 Armored personal carrier converted into an ambulance.  Painted tan with a bright Red cross on its flanks, it was unmistakable what its mission entailed. The extra HUMVE had further supplied us with more medics for the scene.  Bringing up the rear, HQ 66, my Bradley Fighting Vehicle, its crew consisting of SPC Maxey and myself was tasked to keep all foes from interdiction and stopping of our mission of Mersey.

                "Battle 6, this is 6 Golf, over…"

                "…Six Golf this is six, make it quick."

                "Roger six, I have the coordinates and I know where we're going.  However, my being here is to secure this convoy, break…"   "… The distances in the covey are too great for me to be effective sir!"

                "Understood, now clear the net, this is six out."

                "Damn it!" I yelled out over the CVC as I threw the hand mike onto the top of the turret, the coiled cord rappelling it back down into the hole and hitting the face of the radio it was attached too.

                "Don't worry Sergeant, I got this, I can see him and the rest of the convoy.  He won't lose us," SPC Maxey came over in a calm and cool voice. "It's not his fault.  The man has a million and one things going on right now.  We just have to make sure that no one fucks with him, or the medics… that's your job.  You have the 25 up there… and I'm down here making sure that nothing gets in our way."              

                "Yea, yea, yea I understand, but I just hate it when he does this," I said as I crouched down and picked up the hand-mike that was daggling from the radio.

                "Sergeant Henke, calm down, we've got this, don't worry… trust me, we've got this."

                "I know--- I know, it's just that, Ahhhh, never mind…" I ended with a frustrated out burst.

                Going through this routine for a few weeks now, I trusted Specialist Maxey whole heartedly to get me where I needed to go and safely.  The Commander was in his HUMVE and we we're in the Bradley pulling security for our small convoy.  My job, to get us there and meet the enemy, no matter who they were, with the full brunt force and power that was at my command.  Both of us working in unison for a common goal, the safety of each other and of our Commander, LTC Gillman.

                The sun setting in its mid afternoon horizon, its heat blazing on my exposed face, I looked in a silent stare as I rode as a passenger and less like a Gunner.  My mind in a different place, questions floating in my psyche; what happened…why did it happen, what's going to happen now, all these happenings flowing through my mind on a rough sea of the unknown.

                "Sergeant Henke…"

                "What's up Maxey?"

                "Looks like the Commander is turning onto the highway…"

                "Yeah roger," my consciousness began to come back to reality.  Grasping my M-4 rifle in my hand, I chambered a round and set it in its holster behind me. "The Grid that was given over the radio takes us just down this highway and about 8 kilometers west bound."

                "Shit-- there's a lot of traffic on the freeway Sergeant."

                "Don't worry about it, just try to close the distance between us and the rest of the convoy, and please Maxey, don't hit anyone in the other vehicles.  These people drive crazy enough as it is in this country."

                Coming out onto the 'Hard Ball' façade of the Iraqi Freeway system we started cutting in and out of traffic.  These Freeways were nothing like the ones in Los Angeles, or any of the other major metro areas in America, but all in the same, many lanes and many cars.  No one could stop our marauding pursuit of our Commander; he led the way and we followed, keeping a watchful eye in all directions for potential danger. 

                Swerving in and through traffic, nothing was going to stop us.  Then the shock hit me like a sledgehammer.  There in the far distance on the opposite side of the freeway was a commotion.  Dropping down into the turret I grabbed the Commanders Hand station and traversed the turret in the direction of the mass of people and vehicles.  The disarray of scouts, medics and other personnel could be seen much clearer now that I was looking through the Integrated Sight Unit of my Bradley.  It wasn't apparent to me yet the scope of what we were about to come upon… however, I don't think any of us could have imagined it.

                "Maxey, bring the Bradley into the fast lane and prepare to move over the center divider."

                "Roger Sergeant."

                Arriving like a hot wind on the front end of a sand storm I saw what had happened and quickly assessed what we had to do.  "Maxey, as soon as you beat feet over the divider, turn the Bradley around and back it into the sense."

                "What's going on Sergeant, what can you see…?  I know you can see up there… what's going on?!"  Was the frantic but yet still cool response from my Driver.

                "Don't worry about it right now; just do what you're told."

                "Roger Sergeant."

                Specialist Cody Maxey didn't have to see what was now unfolding in front of my eyes.  We we're going to turn the 'ass-end' of the Bradley toward the catastrophe on the Freeway; I was going to guard the opposing view with my 25mm cannon, and no one was going to get by me unless 'I' let them…

                "Is this good…right here Sergeant?"

                "Roger, its good Maxey… just prepared to move on command."

                "Understood Sergeant….roger, understood…"  His voice disappeared into the vastness of my mind.

I was still reacting, not thinking, and then the reality of the situation slammed into me again.  Captain Watkins, my Company Commander in Bravo Company and now in Head Quarters Company was washed in crimson.  He had been giving First Sergeant Garza CPR, taking turns with the others on the scene; SPC Hess, SPC Sons, some of the scouts.  Faces covered in blood, clothes stained.  Red…then maroon as the liquid dried and set in desert camouflage of their DCUs.  No words could ever illustrate what the human eye can see and what human emotion can feel… nothing.  It was heart wrenching.

                Delivering mail to the Battalion TOC to be distributed out to the rest of the Companies, CPT Watkins and 1SG Garza were on their way to us from the Brigade Support Area (BSA) just 20 minutes earlier.  Now they struggled to release the First Sergeants body from between his vehicle and a near by dark blue taxi-van.  The First Sergeants back snapped in two, the organs mangled from the impact of being thrown from his vehicle and then crushed in a pincer between two vehicles.

                "Sergeant Henke…" taking off my CVC to hear, "Sergeant Henke," the Battalion Commander beckoned to me.

                "Watch'a need sir?"

                "Get on the radio and tell Battle X-ray they we need an Air Medivac right now!  Tell them the coordinates are alright to set a bird down on the highway."

                "Understood sir!"  I yelled over the deafening rumble of the Bradley engines exhaust pipe.

                Giving thumbs up, the Commander turned and trotted out toward the scene again.  Slipping my CVC back over my head I caught a glimpse of SPC Gifford standing on the Commanders side of the HUMVE near the radio's.  Giving my own thumbs up in his direction he retorted with a smile and head nod of acknowledgement

                "Battle X-Ray, this is Battle 6 Golf over."

                "Battle 6 Gold this is X-ray, go ahead."

                "Battle X-ray, I'm requesting an Air Medivac to my location time now, over."

                "Roger Battle 6 Golf, we have all the information we need for a nine line Medivac call in, break…"   "… Go ahead and inform the six actual that we are calling it up now over the Brigade net and we will, break…"   "…we will follow up and call you when it has been sent, over."

                "That's a good copy Battle X-ray; this is Battle 6 Golf out."

Looking acrossed to the west bound traffic on the other side of the highway I noticed the slow in movement as the lookie-loo's rolled by.  People in their cars and busses plastered to their window's trying to get a better glance of what the Americans were doing.  Small children to the oldest of citizenry glued to their windows, watching, and wondering. Now keeping the traffic back, I realize that everyone on the sight was closely affiliated with 1SG Garza. He was our First Sergeant, from the scouts that were helping me secure the area, to the medic's tending to him on the ground, and finally ending with me and my drivers, Maxey and Gifford…

"Battle 6 Golf…"

"Battle 6 Golf… over…"

"Battle 6 Golf, this is Battle X-ray over."

Coming too, I picked up the hand mike again.  "This is Battle 6 Golf, go ahead Battle X-ray."

"Roger 6 Golf, this is X-ray, break…"   "…the bird is 1-0 mikes out, break…"  "…however, the pilots might be reluctant to land in that area, over."

"Battle X-ray this is Battle 6 Golf, break…"   "…roger, what do you mean they might be reluctant to land, over."

"Battle 6 Golf, this is X-ray, break…"  "…the pilots don't have sufficient air cover and, break…"   "…and don't know if it's safe enough to land, over."

"Are you kidding me," I announced over the radio completely losing all composure and rational in radio procedures.

"Come again Battle 6 Golf, your last transmission was misunderstood, over."

Gathering my self-control again, I began to respond, "Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6 Golf, break…"    " … Ah, Battle X-ray I will relay to the six actual and get a response to you ASAP, over."

"Understood Battle 6 Golf… this is Battle X-ray out."

"Sergeant Henke, you slipped up for a second didn't ya?"  A voice said over my CVC.

"Yea I know, but what the fuck do these Black Hawk pilots get paid for?  I mean come on, my step-uncle was a Huey Pilot in Vietnam and he got shot down three times in a more volatile place then this!"  I screamed out in frustration.  "Fuckin-a damn-it!"

Glancing about I noticed the Commander standing next to the Bradley motioning me to take off my CVC.  "What's up sir!" I screamed out as I removed the helmet from my cranium.

"What did Battle X-ray say," LTC Gillman said as he cupped his hands around his mouth in order to project his voice louder over the Bradley engine.

"They said 1-0 mikes sir!"

"What!   That's too far off…"

"Also sir, they said they might not land if it's too dangerous around here…"

"WHAT!  Do they know that there is a Bradley here, and more then a hand full of troops with weapons, HUMVE mounted .50 cals and MK-19 Grenade launchers?"

"I don't think they give a shit sir."

"Fuck…God Damn it!"  Was the harsh response as the Commander looked to the ground and put his hands on his hips,  "Ill call the TOC personally," he said as he turned and headed toward Gifford and HQ's 6.

"Oh shit," I said to myself, "Here we go…"

"Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6 overt!"  I heard the exchange start in my CVC.

"Battle 6 this is Battle X-ray over."

"What do you mean that the bird might not land here cuz it's not 'secure' enough for them…" Not waiting for a response LTC Gillman threw the hand-mike to the ground.  However before it hit, the wire coiled up and it shot back into the HUMVE.   Kneeling and grabbing the hand-mike again the Commander began to speak, "Battle X-ray, this is Battle 6, I don't need a response, break…"   "…We're going to ground E-vac from here, break…"    "…Battle Bones has a Medical M113 out here and they're attending to Head Hunter 7 now, break…"   "…call off the air Medivac and we'll transport the First Sergeant by ground to the MASH unit at the BSA down the hard ball, over…"

"Understood all Battle 6."

"Good, Battle 6 out!"  Placing the hand-mike back in the HUMVE, the commander looked up at me and gave the hand signal of 'get ready to move'. Nodding in positive and silent response I adjusted my position back to the front and began to get myself situated.

"Maxey… get ready to move out."

The revving of the Bradley engine was his silent but loud response.

"Ill take that as a yes…"  I said as I looked over to SPC Gifford move the HUMVE over to pick up the commander whom had walked back over to the scene of the accident.  "We'll pick up rear security again when we move out Maxey."

Once again hearing the engine ideal up, SPC Maxey gave me a response with intensity, one with no words, but one with full fledged meaning and soul.

"That's good Maxey.  I'm ready too," I finally came down to earth with in a cool and calm voice that had vanished in the leading moments to our arrival.

Looking over my shoulder to get a better estimate of time I could see the First Sergeant now free from his confines and laying on a stretcher, SSG Thompson rendering mouth to mouth procedures to the dying man, as he ran along side the stretcher. It was placed quickly, but gently into the rear compartment of the Armored Personnel Carrier, still with no pulse and no breathing everyone around the First Sergeant was still fighting for him.

Seeing the M113 with the bright Red Cross on it close its ramp and a plume of black smoke exiting from its exhaust pipe, I started to move into action.  Without much direction, Maxey and I punched it and were off racing into opposing traffic on the west bound side.  Civilian good Samaritans had stopped traffic to create a break for us to get by, however to the sheer horror to the citizenry held up on the Freeway we completely caught them off guard as we veered into their direction.  25mm cannon poised and pointing, they all came to a screeching halt in terror.

Continued..... in part Two

So here it goes, Sunday, the 5th of March, 2006, Jason.... doing take-out at the Cheesecake Factory....

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Here goes the weirdest "Happenings"  for a Sunday day shift in ascending order from not so bad to bad (or funny depending on how look at it).....

1)  The drain under the sink and on the floor on the far side of the "Bakery" were both clogged today, or at least had very slow drainage going on today… so basically I stood in water all day on a tile floor sloshing around getting everything wet every time I use the sink

2) A "guest" purchased some whole milk from me today to fill in a bottle and then heated up…. easy task… however… this is Jason here talking, Dar-Da-Dar… so I take the bottle from the women to fill it and then put it in the microwave…no…. it had to be harder then that.  It was some new type of bottle that had a seal on it, and also a bunch of holes on the bottom…. So I didn't notice it. 

I thought I could pour the Milk in from the top and it would be a simple task, no, I didn't see the "magic holes" on the bottom.  So when I started to pour it just went right threw it…. All over the counter, down the side and then onto the floor (which was a puddle anyway, so easy clean up) and down my leg…. WTF.  The lady started to laugh at me and so did like 3 of her friends…. I felt like an idiot…. but oh well… she gave me 5 bucks for the laugh…easy money!

3)  Then I got a counterfeit $100.00 bill from a "Guest" and I wouldn't take it.  They proceed to make a small seen.  I used the ultra-violet light, it didn't work, I used the pen, and it didn't work.  The damn thing didn't have a magnetic strip, and it felt fake (when you handle money all day you can tell what is real and what is not), so I told the lady that I wouldn't take it and I wouldn't give it back to her… she wasn't to happy about that.

I wasn't going to give it back to her because it was fake and I was going to show a manager.  That's when she yelled at me and called me a "mother-fucker" and ran out the front door…  I laughed and then put the bill under my cash draw…

4)   I had this Persian Lady (nothing against the Iranian's out there) with a thick accent call me up from down stairs on one of the carts that are set up in the middle of the mall that I work at.  She ordered Macaroni and Cheese Balls from our Appetizer menu (these are the nastiest things ever).  She asked me how long it would take for the order to be ready, I said 10-15 minutes….. she was there in 2.

I was in the middle of talking to a guest who was next in line when the Persian lady from down stairs comes up stairs to my counter and asks me WHILE IM TALKING TO THE OTHER GUEST, "Is my order ready yet?"    … Like I know what the fuck you ordered with out giving me a description or a name… she must think I have super magical mind reading powers (damn I wish I did, the things I could do to you people out there).

I told her that I would be right with her after I was done helping the guest who was IN THE FRONT of the line was done….  "Are you sure my order isn't right here," she asks me as she grabbed a bag that wasn't hers filled with someone else's food.

"No Ma'am.  That isn't yours.  You're order isn't ready yet and wont be ready for about 5 minutes," I said to her remembering who I was dealing with (Becky you know who this lady is and what she sounds like).  She frowned at me… then looks at Toby, my Baker and the other Cashier on duty.

"Is this mine!?"  She asks him as he walked by with a strawberry short cake in his hand.  He of course was listening to the whole conversation while he was working and played dumb with her as she grabbed the bag that I took away from her again.

"No  Ma'am, that isn't your's," he said to her. 

I then finally was done with the lady I was helping in the first place.  All she wanted was an Ice Tea to go, easy I thought… I told both of the ladies at the counter, the one with the Ice Tea and the crazy Persian lady that I would be right back and I'm going to get eh Ice Tea and her Mac and Cheese balls… that wasn't good enough.

While I was walking to the line (a place where we prepare the food and drink for the Restaurant)   The Persian lady basically said, screw you Jason, Im going to ask every employee I see where my food was.  She went to the front desk and asked three of them where her food was.  Mary, one of the hostesses ran back to me and reported to me that there was a guest harassing them about her food.  I rolled my eyes and told Mary to ignore her and go back to the front, I wasn't going to deal with that dumb ass guest right at the moment, Ill wait till I get back up front.

Mary turns around from me as I ended pouring the Ice tea in the To-Go container.  Guess who was standing at the edge of the line?  You guessed it…. That Persian Lady…  She stopped every Server that passed her and asked them where her food was, they had no clue who she was and what she was doing.  The servers saw me and pointed at me and said, "He's the To-Go guru, ask him?"  She didn't.  She then asked one of the dish washers who was getting bus-tubs filled with plate ware where her food was.  He mumbled something in Spanish to her and went along on his business.

Lets have a count down of the people she asked all while her food was being cooked because she came up 13 minutes early for her order:

A) Me (Jason)

B) Toby  (Other backer)

C) Mary (Front Desk)

D) Matt  (Front Desk)

E) Some new girl from the front desk

F) Justin B(server)

G) Dan D (Server)

H) Lindsey (Food Runner)

I) Sandra (server)

J)  Guillermo (dish washer)

K) Angelia (the front desk Manager)

This is where the story begins to make me mad….  The lady tells Angelia that I was ignoring her and NOT getting her order ready for her… low and behold its not ever out of the fryer yet…

Angelia flips out on me and then I run and get the ticket and show her the ticket time on it and told her it was 6 minutes….  Angelia was like, "Then why is she back here on the lone looking for you and her food?" 

I replied, "She's a crazy bitch, and I'm not going to help her now.  You can."  Right in ear shot of the women.  Angelia's face sank and was like, OMG Jason, why did you just say that.  I laughed and grabbed the Ice tea and went back to the front.

Needless to say I never did help her and I refused to serve her again…. Ever…. People like that need to go back in the hole they live in…

5)  The best Story of the day, yes, even better then the prior one…!!!

A gentleman comes to the counter with a bag in his hand.  I can see it has a To-Go tin in it and he proceeds to tell me his sob story.  I begin to smile and listen in with a false intent on caring about what the fuck his issue was, mainly because I just got done with glory lady from down stairs and her fucking Mac and Cheese Balls.  So I listened on…

He opens his bag and out pops this Thai Chicken Pasta.  He goes on to tell me that he didn't like how it tasted and now it was bad and spoiled from sitting in his refrigerator for two weeks.  Yes, I said TWO WEEKS!

I chuckled a bit and told the man that I was going to go get a manger for him.  This was going to be great.  So who do I go get everyone (talking to those of you who work with me out there).  I get KEN!   That's right, the Assistant General Manager.  He's at the end of the bar talking to Angelia, the other Manager on duty.  Most likely their talking about the Persian lady and how I refused to help her (which is legal, look in our menu; I can reserve the right to refuse service to ANYONE!)

I told them real quick what the issue was, they both started to laugh and thought I was joking.  I was not.

Angelia looked at Ken and was like, "you're the Senior Manager.  Its your turn to deal with Jason's Guest this time."  I laughed and followed Ken back into the Bakery.

There was a new guest waiting for me.  I started to greet her and ask her if she had any questions I could answer for her.  She said she needed a moment too look over the 20 pages that is the Cheesecake Factory's menu.  I smiled and said I would be here if she needed anything… I then tuned into what Ken was talking to the other guest about.

Guest: "Are you the Manager?"

Ken: "Yes I am sir.  What can I do for you today?"

Guest:  "This Tai Chicken Pasta is bad, and I didn't like how it tasted…"

Ken:  "Oh I'm sorry to hear that sir.  When did you purchase this pasta?"

Guest:  "Oh, about two weeks ago.  It's been sitting in my refrigerator at my house ever since that."

Ken:  "Do you have a receipt?"

Guest:  "No, why would I want to keep that?"

Ken:  "Well sir, we need to see who you bought it from, and when."

Guest:  That's absurd!"

Ken: "Well sir I won't be able to help you with out the receipt.  I won't know where you bought it from, when you bought it, and from whom with out it."

Guest:  "Why cant you just give me my money back for it?"

Ken:  "Did you call us that night sir, or the next day?"

Guest: "Why would I do that?"

…are you seeing where this is going people?!  At this point the guest I had greeted and who had looked up from her menu to watch what I was watching just a few feet to my left, her right, she asks, "What's with him?"

I shrugged my shoulders and told her that he had a two week old Thai chicken pasta in his bag and he wants a refund for 'not liking it'.  She began to laugh out loud.  I sat there and tried to hold back my smile…

Ken:  "I can't help you sir if you don't have a receipt with you and you didn't call at least a day after the problem sir."

Guest: "WHAT!?  I don't under stand your logic?  Why can't you give me back my money?!  I don't want this pasta anymore and its nasty!!"

….this is where it gets funnier! 

The Guest female in front of me: "You free loading asshole!  Why don't you take your two week old pasta and get out of here!  What are you trying to do get a free buck in life?  These people are wonderful and have great service… you need to get out of here and leave them alone."

Male Guest:  "…"

Ken:  "Did you want a business card sir?"

Male Guest:  "..."

Female Guest:  "Go away!"

….the man took his pasta and left, and then I laughed so hard I cried.  Toby was right there laughing with me, and Ken, and the female guest, who I might add also paid me 5 bucks for the entertainment she had at my counter today…

It was just one of those weird Sunday Cheesecake days….  I hate my life…

-Jason

Jason's check list of anger!

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[X] The Front Desk

[X] Which ever Manger fucked up the Patio tonight!

[X] Ken and Sheila for 'trying' to be EXPO tonight.

[X] The kitchen for fucking up some of my orders.

[X] The Guests on the Patio.

Jason's List of people he loves from tonight!

[X] Janna (Patio One server)

[X] Erin C. (Patio Four Server)

[X] Paul (Patio Two Server)

[X] Ashley (Bar One Server)

Im going to entitle this rant:

"The Patio, a Typical Night at the Cheesecake Factory of ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Thousand Oaks"

            Ok, like with all my stories I have to explain some things out for those of you readers out there not completely familiar with what goes on at Cheesecake Factory as a server or any of the 'other' positions out there.  Tonight I was scheduled [remember the word scheduled, meaning its going to come back up again] on Patio Three, which is Tables 147, 149, 150, 133, 134 [when were only four-way out there instead of five-way]

Patio One at night comes onto their shift at 4:15pm (Ashley)

            Patio Two at night comes onto their shift at 4:15pm (Paul)

            Patio Three at night comes onto their shift at 5:00pm (me)

            Patio Four at night comes onto their shift at 5:00pm (Janna)

            Patio Five at night comes onto their shift at 5:30pm (Erin)

            What you see above means nothing but crap, and I will explain why.  If you look at the check list above that there are the same names (minus mine) but if you notice, then do not add up to the jobs that were scheduled.  This is where the problem begins and this is where I should have just started my mind set this evening with, 'Holy Fuck, tonight is going to such major ass and maybe I should prepare myself mentally!'

            So Im scheduled at 5:00 pm this evening, cool.  The weather has cleared up (it was cloudy and sprinkled today) from earlier today and I have parked my truck in the Thousand Oaks Mall parking lot (before the yellow line, so suck my ass Mall security and your communist restraints on where I can and can't park!).  Its around 4:40 pm. Im early, way—early.  It stems from my time in the Army where we always have to be early everywhere we go, I hold that same obligation in my civilian life as I did back then.

            Becky parks next to me (Night time Cashier for take-out) and we walk up to our restaurant together.  She commented on how nice it had cleared up and that patio will be busy tonight.  I agreed.  Two tables had already been sat (Table's 122 and 103), one being in Patio ones section and the other in Patio twos section, cool, or so I thought.

            I walk to the back dock area and see a few of my co-workers sucking down some cancer sticks and gabbing about their days so far, I got bored and went in almost immediately.  So I walk into the kitchen from the back and make my way up to the front desk…this is where it starts to get bad.

            "Jason, where have you been?"  The unknown front desk girl says to me.  "We sat  your section awhile ago."

            Looking down at the front desk computer that has every section cordon off by server I see my name high lighted in Patio One.  "What the fuck do you mean you sat me!  Im in Patio Three and I don't even clock in till 5," I yelled out at her as I looked down at my watch.  It was 4:48pm.  Gazing back at the computer I noticed that the counter was at 18 minutes since they sat down.  "Has anyone greeted them at all!?"  I angrily said.

            "I don't know," the confused front desk girl responded back as she back against the wood and ceramic pained concrete wall.  "I just sat them because Patio one opens at 4:30…"

            "Did the server in that section check in yet?"  I announced as I grabbed the restaurant map from the counter and looked at who originally had the shift.  Ashley F. had it, but her name was crossed out, and mine was penned in.  The writing was familiar, too familiar; I know whose it was.  "Where is Jen?"

            "She's on the atrium with Ken having a meeting." The front desk girl said in her cowering position below me.  Now I don't need to remind you that I am six foot four and this front desk girl is barley an inch over five foot.  Not to mention I rarely get angry with anyone person at Cheesecake Factory and actually lash out at them, it does happen, but it's rare.  I was mad as fucking hell and this girl knew it (her name is to remain a secret for she may read this).

            Looking over my shoulder and out the windows that separate the inside of the restaurant with the mall and the atrium waiting area I see Jen [the General Manager of CCFTO] and Ken [the assistant General Manager of CCFTO] talking with each other with papers spread over the circular table in front of them.

            Looking down at the still cowering front desk girl I thanked her and apologized as I turned to walk away with out caring for a response.  I was pissed off.

            Bursting through the atrium door I made a B-line (sorry, an Army term for head straight at something) for Jen and Ken.  Jen seeing me out of the corner of her eye sees me coming, so does Ken.  Now one can only wonder outside those two what they are thinking when Jason Henke (me) comes at them with the angry face painted all over his persona.

            "So who was going to call Jason to tell him that he was going to be in Patio One tonight?"  I asked calmly, but red faced and angry at the same time.

            "Your in patio one tonight," Jen replied with a smile on her face.

            "No, Im in Patio Three tonight," I responded back firmly.

            Now Ken was sitting acrossed from her in silence, but not wanting to deal with me (angry Jason) he sat there letting Jen take all the heat.

            "We had a hole in the Bar and we moved Ashley from Patio One to Bar One," Jen replied with a full toothed smile smeared acrossed her face.

            "When were you going to call me and tell me that I was going to need to be in 30 minutes early?"  I calmly responded.  "Now the front desk has sat a party of three at Table 122 and they have been there," looking down at my watch, "for 21 minutes."

            "Really…"  Jen said with concern in her voice.

            "Yes really.  I thought it was policy for us Servers to come check into the front desk after we have been 'aligned' and we have clocked in for our shift so they can seat our sections when we are ready.  The front desk sat my section before I even left my house…"

            "True."  Was her hallow response.

            "Then can I have you card so I can clock in early in the computer?"

            "Yes, here you go," she said as she gave me her manager card so I could clock in early for my shift.

            "Oh, and Jen, Im still in Patio Three, so your going to have to get someone else to fill that in," I said defiantly as I walked back inside to clock in at the computer next to the atrium exit door.  Coming back outside I proceeded to say," Lets get Janna to do Patio One, she should be here any minute for her Patio Four shift.  I'm sure she won't be bothered by it.  And also, I have Paul taking care of that table (Table 122) already, so he's going to own it till they get up."

            "Thanks Jason…"  Jen said with a smile on her face as I handed her card back. 

            "Thanks Jen!"

Commentary thus far:

            So right now Im thinking what the fuck is going on?! Oh well, what ever, Im back in the place I was supposed to be in and I will be getting out around 9:30 instead of 10:30pm like I would have had to of done if I was in the closing station (which I hate) Patio One.  Screw that!

Back to the other high lights of the evening, they are not going to be in story format, but you will still enjoy my misery, thank you…

So now that we have managed to cover the first two on the check list of Jason's anger (ill pause and wait till you scroll up and check the other three).  Ok, so now that your back we can continue.  Thank you.

The EXPO or Expediter is the key person that keeps the kitchen from falling apart and from servers from falling apart on the line.  They make sure the food comes up in all the windows in an orderly fashion.  The Broccoli is put with the Mahi Grill, the fries are readily available for the Sliders, and the Potstickers that are supposed to come up with the BBQ Ranch Chicken Salad have come up together, because we all know that Appetizers like Potstickers come up real fast so we need them there to keep the timing down so nothing 'dies' in the window.  The EXPO is the King (or Queen) of the line, don't piss them off, never.  However, if they are a manager… everything is out the door!  Let me explain.

Sheila, bless her heart, I love the women, she is a great manager and I always go to her first when there is a problem, but what the fuck is she doing on the EXPO line trying to be EXPO!!!  She sucks at it and she hates it toboot!

She had everything coming up slow, and items that were supposed to come up with other items were not.  The cooks (bless there little hearts) weren't listening to her and were basically ignoring her.  So anarchy ensued!  Thank Gawd it was a slow Monday night and us servers could call on our own food and Sheila could stand in her box and yell into the radio for Front Desk updates and for table visits for Ken, who was the Floor manager.

The night went on… the EXPO line got worse…Ken Stepped in… so now, it went from fucked up, to fucked up beyond recognition.

Ken = Pre-selling tickets

Ken = Double Selling tickets.

Ken = Run hands for two tickets sold.

Ken = EXPO that runs from one end of the Line to the other.

            Pre-Selling a ticket requires an EXPO to move a ticket from the "being made" line to the "finished" line, however, the item is not finished and is NOT IN THE WINDOW!

            Double Selling tickets is when an EXPO puts two (or sometimes more) tickets in the "finished line" that have the same item on them, for example, there are two tickets, both have "Thai Lettuce Wraps" on them, they may have some other items on them, but that is not to worry, that's just pre-selling. Back to the two of the same items on two separate tickets.  When they do this, they put both tickets on the "finish line" however only one of those Thai Wraps are done.  This screws the other person running that order who didn't get to the salad station before the other server to grab that one Thai Wrap.  Sucks for that mother fucker.  So then that Server goes to the EXPO and tries to explain that they have a pre-sold, double-sold ticket in their hand with other items ready to be ran in hand however they are missing an item ( the Thai Wraps) because the over zealous EXPO wasn't paying attention… so now that runner has to wait… and wait… and wait!

            Run-Hands is a CCF [Cheesecake Factory] term for, "WE NEED SOME MOTHER FUCKERS BACK HERE RUNNING FOOD OFF THIS LINE AND ONTO THE MOTHER FUCKING TABLES!"  However, this term shouldn't be used for two tickets that are on the "finish line", especially if they are pre-sold AND or double sold.  This term should be used when there is a massive ticket with multiple items that cannot be ran by only one person, or more then five small tickets.  Ken freaks out when he sees more then two….WTF!

            Can anyone explain why Ken runs back and forth on the EXPO line that is only lets say 40 feet in length.  There are servers (like myself and 18 others) that have trays full of drinks and bread in a tight confined area….he's going to knock something, or someone over!  WTF!!!

            So now that we have covered the first four, and now onto the last one.  The Patio itself, meaning, the guests who are residing out in it!

            Im going to give you a few instances that cascaded out of almost control for me, but made my life crappy for a good hour or so.

            I got a table full of Brits that couldn't decide on anything, except what to drink from the Bar to get fucked up on.  This is fine, Im used to idiots not knowing what to order from our 21 page menu, its nothing new, but the indecisiveness was getting a little out of hand for me.  Its always great when a guest asks a question that is already explained in detail on the menu itself in the food description under the item.  Its not that bad if it happens once at a table, but for every item they 'try' to order?!  Come on mother fuckers!!! READ!  So anyway, as they are questioning me, the three tables I had left (plus the other one I had seated beside the morons I was helping in front of me) we now being triple sat by the lovely and wonderful front desk.  Just put a nail in my coffin now I thought to my self as I was explaining the basic tossed green salad to position four on table 147.  WTF!

            So they ordered (Table 147), there food gets to the table, I come by for my two minute or second bite check up (sorry, it's a CCF term), the wife instantly says, "We're going to be your worst nightmare!"  I thought to myself, you have an AK-47 lodged up your vagina and now you are going to pull it out and start mowing me down in your own personal Jihad, no, I don't think so sweet heart, your not my worst nightmare.

            "My steak isn't cooked enough," she said, "and my husband doesn't like his salad."

            Holy shit, what the fuck, I think to myself… just go away you assholes, you've taken too much of my time as it is, and I will never get that portion of my life back again!

            "I apologize for that ma'am, and Im going to go get a manger for you,"  I responded with a smile. "Ill be right back as I hurriedly walked away from her table with two hands full of 'used' plates.

            I found Jen, the General Manager, and told her what happened.  I said she needed to go out and talk to them.  She did, I avoided the table when I came back outside to take another order.

            Coming up to Table 150 there was a couple there.  The gentlemen ordered a BBQ Ranch Chicken Salad, and his 'lady friend' who was more plastic then women couldn't decide.  Here we go again…

            "Can I get the Herb Salmon?"

            "Yes ma'am," I replied. "Would you like the dinner or the salad version?"  I asked.

            "The Dinner," she said with a made up and fake smile.  I should have known better, I should have just input the salad like her gentlemen counterpart, but no, I didn't, stupid me, I was going to regret that very-very-very soon.

            After taking their menus, I told them thank you and proceeded to go to the bar and get a bottle of wine for Table 149 (right next to 150) for a wine presentation, oh joy, I couldn't wait.

            On my way back to the Patio door I had to walk past 147, the table of Brits, with the Fucked up food.  The lady grabs my apron.  "We would like a new menu and we would like to see your manager again…"

            OH MY GAWD!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!! Don't you see that I need to do a wine presentation Bitch!

            "Absolutely ma'am, Ill go get her as soon as possible."

            Ok Ok OK --- so to sum it up, they had three things fucked up on their order, two were because they didn't like what they ordered, the other was that the kitchen didn't cook something long enough.  Then the Salmon lady (actually the plastic lady, but that's another story) actually wanted a Salmon Salad and not the Dinner, but after I asked her it must have slipped her mind to tell me S-A-L-A-D….I hate people!

            So there you have it, a very short version of my night… it wasn't that bad, but if you know me, you know I get slightly pissed off at the smallest impropriety that I can not solve or is out of my control!  People are stupid and need to die.

            On another note, Erin had a shitty night on the Patio too… I send my love to her now… I love you Erin Cummings, and I hope you read this and laughed at me…

Welcome back!

Well here is yet another installment of the never ending saga known as The Cheesecake Factory from the perspective of Jason.  These stories [of true life events] are meant for entertainment and not to be taken as some ulterior reasoning [like I hate my job and want to quit, or I hate the guest and want too kill them, no, it's not that at all], so sit back and enjoy the ride.

Location:  Atrium [A1], the Cheesecake Factory, Thousand Oaks, California.

Time: Morning shift, Saturday, 16 December 2006

Honorable Mentions:  Suzanne, Laura, Becky Pena, Mat, Travis, the Guest in "Atrium 1"

Is your Job really that Fucking hard??

So like any other day that its raining at the Cheesecake Factory and your sorry ass is stuck on the Patio for a shift [like mine was] then your going to be moved inside to the "Atrium" which is located just on the out side of our restaurant in the mall exterior.  I hate it.

I was Patio 1, then I magically turned into Atrium 1, I managed to be the only smart one to bring my inside uniform to change into so I didn't have that dumb polo shirt on while I worked inside, but that's a whole other issue im not going to get into.

So here's the set up on the Atrium, besides what basic info you already know about, like its location, let me tell you the kind of people who sit out there, and yes, there is a "kind" of people who inevitably end up out there. They are the people who are in a rush to begin with because they don't want to wait for a seat inside and they say they "don't mind sitting on the Atrium", but get real people, who the fuck would sit out there if they really had a choice?  You get an audience while you wait, most of which are hungry ass people wanting to get inside and eat themselves [not themselves literally].

And the second type of person is someone who has kids.  Which in a way is good, if your one of those servers inside and you want all the crying, screaming, destroying everything monsters outside where its already loud and messy to stay away from your guests so they can eat in some what muffled peace.  But I was out there, on the Atrium and I didn't want them out there in my section.  I mean come on, they eat like birds, they drink just water and there parents are stressed out of their minds already from babysitting them in the Mall--- perfect, come sit in Jason's section!

*          *          *

First Table of the day: 

Four Guests, two adults [the parents], and two children, one around four and then other was an infant, and not sleeping I might add [how do kids that young have lung capacities that can break glass when they scream?]. 

The parents barely spoke English because they were Asian [I couldn't tell you which country they were from, they were foreigners, so they were hitting on all cylinders with me and the none tipping stereotypical people].

"Good morning folks", I abruptly came to them with smiling with my arms cupped behind my back leaning in.  "How are we doing today?"

The women's index finger goes up in the air as she looks into the menu and tries to subliminally tell me the shut the fuck up. [Which is what a raised index finger to a server means…]

I grumble to myself and look to the husband who is not looking at me but fumbling around on the ground for something, anything that can take him far from the screaming child and his wife.

Still standing there, now standing tall and my smile smeared from my face, I waited.

In a thick Asian-accent, "We have two waters.  No ice, wit straw and a small one with a top for da witle one…!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I thought to my self as my smile returned and I felt a twitch in the lower portion of my back as my body started to already get aggravated.  "Yes ma'am,"  I replied with sincerity.  "Just to let you know some of our specials of today is our soup, the 'Cream of Chicken with Artichoke', and the fresh fish of the day is…"  I was abruptly cut off again.

Waving her index finger at me and shaking her head no she peered back into the menu.  "I no care," she replied.  "Is the Sunday Brunch menus available right now?" 

Mind you, when this story was taking place it was Saturday morning.  Yes, S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y, morning.  So my response, "Ma'am, we only have that portion of our menu available on Monday evenings.  Now if that will be all I will go get your waters and some bread for you.  If there are any other questions about our menu I would be more then happy to answer them for you when I return with your waters." 

I swiftly leave the atrium and disappear back into the main dinning room where one of my partners in crime, Becky Pena, was placing an order into the computer from one of her tables in D6, and asked her, "So what's your first table like?

"Oh my fucking God Jason!?  Let me tell you this!"

I take a step back from surprise.

"My table asked for coffee!"

"So what, mine asked for water.  At least you can charge them for coffee, I have to give them free shit, and they asked if we had Sunday brunch today!"

Smiling, Becky almost forgot what she was going to say too me, "Well get this, my table asks for coffee, and then the old women grabs my arm and sneers at me and tells me it better be HOT!  I mean come on, we just fuckin opened, and the coffee was brewed less then five minutes ago!"

Laughing out loud I run off to the Expo line to grab the free bread and water and wonder to myself why, oh why oh why am I on the Atrium, oh wait, who cares, this is going to be a fun day, Im just not going to give a fuck. Tips are going to be shitty, Guests are going to be rude, and Im going to be getting lots of kids in my "Chuck Cheese" section of the Cheesecake Factory…

Time goes on… Its time for Jason to get his Meal Period from one of the Breakers.

So the Breaker comes in and gives certain servers a break which is required by California state law to have before I hit my 5 hours and 59 minutes and 59 seconds on my shift. 

The Breaker comes in for 31 minutes and just makes sure my station doesn't fall apart while im gone.  It's an easy shift.  In fact that what Im doing tonight at Cheesecake Factory for my shift [Sunday the 17^th of Dec].

So the Breaker is also supposed to give you a little heads up time on your break so you can possibly get some food for your meal period and eat it.  They usually come and tell you right when they break the person in front of you on their list.  Not this particular Breaker on this particular day with this particular server [ME!!]

"Hey Jason, your next on my list to be broken…"

"Hey thanks man, when do I go,"  looking down at my watch and noteing the time of 1:36 pm.

"Your supposed to go when Richard comes back at 1:39."

Standing at the Computer at the entrance to the atrium I look down at him [his name will remain nameless].  "Are you fucking kidding me?  When were going to tell me that I was going on a break?"

"Im telling you now…"

"Yeah I know your telling me now, but that's not the point Im getting at high-speed!"  [yes I still use that term I learned in the Army, so shoot me!]  I closed out my screen on the computer and looked into the Breakers eyes and said, "So I guess your going to wait for me to put my food in, and have it ready before I go.  I hope you don't want too wait too much longer, cuz that's what your going to do now," I said as I turned away and walked out into the atrium to start retrieving plates from two different tables that were ready to go home.

Walking back inside he said to me, "Can I help you with anything?"

"No, you've helped enough, that and I've been here long enough that I don't need some new guy helping me with an easy section like the Atrium."  I scorned him as burrowed past him and through the fucking fern that's always in my way when I walk back to the kitchen.  The leaves hitting me in the face and sweeping along the sides and past my ears one of the sharp edges cut me where the top of the ear lob and my head meet.  That just infuriated me more.

Go back and forth from the kitchen to my two tables that were ready to close out the Breaker stood there at the door waiting, patiently as I ignored him.

"Are you sure I cant help?" He said softly.

Coming back inside and stationing myself at the computer to print out the final checks he comes over to loom over my shoulder.  I hate that!

"Look, Im sorry for not telling you sooner about your break Jason, but I've been having some issues outside of Cheesecake Factory, I mean I got kicked out of my house…"

Stopping what I was doing and thinking a moment I looked around and saw Laura [who was Atrium 2] and Travis [who was Atrium 3].  They were patiently waiting to use the Computer to put orders in.  Standing there, I looked back at the Breaker and said, "Look, I don't give a fuck what your personal life is like out side of Cheesecake Factory!  It doesn't phase me what's going on in your life, and frankly I don't give a fuck because its messing with my life here at Cheesecake Factory.  If you can't do your job, which is really easy, then quit!"

Standing there with his mouth open he had no response.

"Is your job really that fucking hard?"  I said as I shouldered him and walked out into the atrium to drop two checks off at two tables.  Thanking the tables with a smile on my face I wished them a Merry Christmas and asked them to come back as soon as they could.   Smiling back the two tables both thanked me.

Stepping away I handed my card off to the Breaker and told him to transfer my tables to himself and that I was going to McDonalds anyway and to clock me out, I was going to the bathroom and will be right back down.

Later that Day:

Picking up a pitcher of water I took it too my tables and started to fill bouncer mugs with water.   Filling every one of my tables [four of them] I forgot to fill a fifth one on my area, which just so happened to be Laura's.  She was watching.

"Thanks Jason!"  She said with a smile on her face as she took the pitcher from me…

With the dumb guy face and response, I asked her, "Wha—did I do?"  Because she said it in the "tone" that really didn't mean "Thanks!"  Opps---

Coming back after filling waters at the fifth table she looks up at me with a smile on her face and says, "Fucking A Jason, is your job really that hard that you cant fill my waters too!!"

Oh---- shit I thought as I remembered the conversation she listened too as I lambasted to Breaker… "Opps, my bad" I told her…

"I know, I just wanted to say that too you all day after the Breaker left!" 

We both laughed, and it just happened to be the punch line for the rest of the shift, and Im going to guess that its going to be for the rest of the weekend.

Ok, so this is a long time coming.  A story by me, at my job!

I am going to leave a disclaimer for those of you "new" to my world, and or those who misinterpret my stories as something they are not—

I love my job, yeah, I will say it.  I wouldn't be there for nearly three years and put up with the insurmountable bullshit that goes with it if I didn't love it.  These stories are a way of venting and entertainment for those who read them.  If you see them far beyond entertainment then you need to get a life and stop worrying about Jason and what he says here!!!!  Lord Jesus!!!

Anyway--- on with the story!

Here's the set-up:

So it was last Thursday night at The Cheesecake Factory [the 30^th of November] and I was "Run 2", meaning I came in at 6pm to run other servers food out to their stations and their tables.  My shift generally ends at 9pm, I say generally because Jason [Me] has had issues with this exact shift and this exact day during the week on several occasions.  Basically I walked out on the shift because it became 9pm and there was no more food to run that the "Shift Leader" [Run1] couldn't handle by them selves.

So there I was--- Run 2, Thursday night, with Jennifer Hutton as Shift Leader and me as bitch boy Runner [you can tell I love to be a Runner].  It's the chillest shift as a server.  I have no tables and I only have to deal with needy guests for split seconds instead of an hour and a half--- its almost like heaven at times--- but it's a really busy shift and can frustrate you real quick.

I have several instances where I had an issue with one certain table.  I don't mean the same people that sat at this table, I mean the table and the people who occupied it all night [several rotations of guests at this one particular table].  For those of you out there in The Thousand Oaks Cheesecake Factory family of mine, it was table 313 out on our wonderful atrium.

I partially blame the moron server that was supposed to be taking care of this small two top table but failed to do so all---- night.  They will remain nameless, but because Im trying to protect their identity from the masses moreover it's because the person is so new I don't care to learn their name just yet, but maybe I should find out just because I need to avoid them in the future--- or at least ask them if they need help.

"Hi ladies!"  I say cordially to two young women of their mid-teens sitting acrossed from each other at Table 313.

--Blank stares—

"Potstickers for you!" I respond from the ice cold stares with a warm smile of jubilation as the tip of my thumb started to burn from the hot bowl in my hand.

Looking down at the two I wondered to myself, "Humm, now that I have this bowl with Chicken Potstickers in my hand ready to set it down on the table and it burning my fingers.  Why are these two bitches looking at me and not at least moving the shit out of the middle of the table for me to place the damn fucking food down for them!"

"Can you help me move some of this out of your way so I can place this on the table ladies?"

No response.  I mean nothing.  Like they kept looking at me, then at the bowl, then me, then the bowl, then me, and well you get the point.  At most times I would be flattered that 15 year olds were looking at me with googly eyes but that shit aint legal in California, or even Alabama, so I wasn't interested in anything more then these tinni-bopers fucking moving their chocolate bread out of the way so I could put the bowl down!! 

"Oh shit!"  I say to my self with a hissing noise. 

The Soy-ginger sauce dribbled down my sleeve---burning my arm.

Oh my gawd, now Im just pissed, but really trying not to show it in front of the whole atrium.  There was a party of 10 behind me that I know was watching me because their aint shit to look at out on the atrium but people walking by in the Mall.  So I had an audience--- fuck!

With one sweep of my free arm [that I might remind you is not on fire because it was drenched in Hot Soy-Ginger sauce] I moved the bread plates, bread baskets and a strawberry lemonade out of the way and almost on the laps of the girl on my left.  Placing the Potstickers on the table I smiled my best and turned away to walk back into the main restaurant.

Moving through the door and into the dimly lit Cheesecake Factory I could hear blasting on the restaurants speakers a rendition of Jingle-Bells by Barbara Streisand.  I don't know if you have ever heard this song before, its mind jarring and you should seriously stop reading this right now [ill wait] and find it on the internet, listen to it and then share in my torment of hearing it about eight times in one shift.  Its awful!  [ok, im waiting until you get back, don't worry, the story will be here, just find that song!]

Tessa intercepts me just as I come inside and my face brushed into the plant that's stationed strategically next the to POS Computer near table 211.  This fucking fern has branches that are as high as my face and about 30 minutes into my shifts I just say, "Fuck it" and stop ducking under them and let the damn thing brush me in the face every time I walk past it---- I kinda have too walk into it, going around it requires more work then going through it.  Sorry, im just being lazy!

So Tessa stops me as im running through the fern.  I think she stopped me on purpose right there and right then so im standing in the fern with the leaves all around me in my face and annoying the shit out of me.

"How you doing Jason!?"

"Wonderful!" I respond back to Tessa.  She's got an ear to ear smile on her face looking up at me.

"How's table 313!?  They're a bunch of bitches aren't they?!"

"OMG!  You know what just happened to me!?"

Laughter sprang from Tessa's mouth, with luckily drowned out Barbara and her Jingle Bell song.  "Oh I know, I know, I know--- I just watched what you had to do out there with that table and I couldn't stop laughing at it!!"

"Thanks Babe!" I said to her as I walked past her and towards the kitchen to pick up more food.  "Your really funny Tessa," I said as I slapped her on the ass and walked away.

"Love ya!"  She yelled at as she chuckled.

"Yeah---Yeah---!"

****A Little Later that night.  Same table, different Guests!****

Running back to the expo line after taking an entrée to the Bar I grabbed the next ticket on the line that was sold and ready to deliver out to the guests.

[Table 313, Avo Rolls]

Sweet, I get to go to the Atrium again.  I cant wait!

Grabbing the Avocado Egg Rolls off the line I noticed the square plate they were on was a little hot but bearable because I knew I wasn't going to be holding onto it for too long.  Grabbing the edge closes to the outside and the one that is generally cooler to the touch I started out for the atrium---

Walking through the expo line dodging Bussers who are running too fast with trays of empty glassware and servers with too many plates in their arms I managed to get myself free out of the kitchen.  Heading down the narrow hallway along the bar area and near the bathrooms I could hear Maria Carey singing Merry Christmas as I walked through the fern next to the POS Computer next to table 211.

Entering the brightly lit area just on the outside of the restaurant which we called the atrium, and which is technically out in the mall, but we cordoned it off with planters and call it out own [Fuck you Thousand Oaks Mall, were taking over little by little.  Crab-Tree and Evelyn's is next bitches!!] I took a sharp turn to the left and headed out for table 313 with was a two top situated up against the wall of the exterior of our restaurant.

Same situation as before, however, two new guest [both women] and a new appetizer in my now burning hand.

"Avocado Egg Rolls Ladies!"  I said with a smile on my face.

---Blank stare—

*Sigh*  Why is it every time I bring an appetizer to a table there is shit all--- over it so I cant just place it in the middle and run off?!  WHY!!? Please, someone tell me!!!

I stood there, waiting. Again.

Not wanting to just sweep my arm acrossed the table again.  I placed the square plate the Avo rolls were on on the edge of the table and just shoved it in to the immediate surprise to the two ladies that were of course looking at me wondering why I had Avo Rolls for them---  Plate ware a bread basket and a bouncer of water slid in all directions parting the way for the Avo Rolls.

The Ladies gasped! And I walked away with a smile on my face…

Can you guess who was waiting for me at the entrance to the restaurant again!?  Yep, you guessed it, Tessa. 

"That shit was funny Jason!"

"I know!  But you know why I did it?!  I hate it when I go to a table with a hot plate and they think I should just drop the plate right on the bread basket in the middle of the table.  They never ever want to move shit out of the way.  I guess that my job too.  Lazy asses!"

…I walked away, and through the fern again.

****Later that night, same table, same two ladies****

Walking up to the Expo Line I grabbed the next ticket on the line.  Looking at the dishes and not the table I grabbed it I ran for the salad station.  Picking up a Modified SM Cesar Salad with no cheese, crotons, or Cesar dressing, but they added chopped tomatoes and Balsamic Vinaigrette Dressing, ewh!  The other was a Dry Chinese Chicken Salad.

Picking up both salads I looked at the ticket again too see where I was going---- Table 313.  *Sigh*

Turning around and nearly running over Daniel McGuffy I said scuse me and ran on past him for the Atrium again.

Hearing Jingle Bells again by the always wonderful Ms. Streisand I ran through the fern and out into the bright light of the mall.

Running up on table 313, the women facing me saw me and quickly started to move things around on the table to make room for the salads she knew were hers.

Walking up I announced the salads I had and their modifications clearly to the two ladies.

They smiled at me.  I smiled back.  The server forgot to place the table numbers on the ticket so I couldn't put the salad in front of the guest with out asking who's food was who's---  So I stood there waiting.

"So who has the Dry Chinese Chicken Salad?"  I asked.  The lady on the left, and the one who saw me coming quickly put her hand half way up as if she was in 5^th grade history class and kinda knew the answer to the question but was not too clear on if it was correct or not.  So I looked at her, "Are you sure ma'am?"  I asked.

"Yes"

I placed it in front of her while smiling and then placed the crazy looking Cesar salad in front of the lady on the right.

"Wheres my Dressing!?" The lady on the left screamed at me with a grimace on her face.

"Look lady, I only have two hands!"

Her face melted into a surprised look and I walked away.

Just then her server came up and I told him Table 313 had something for him [because it was his fault he didn't place the dressing on the side in the first place, asshole!]

Tessa of course seeing the whole situation tracked me down again to gloat.

"That shit was funny Jason!"

"Yeah I know---"

----and the saga continues!----

More to come--- you know it!