Recently, a captain was caught with a junior-enlisted female. She was busted down two grades, he was sent to our office.
Just the other day, he was caught again. She’s being chaptered out of the Army, he’s going up to Anaconda to work there.
He’s married with a newborn son. I asked him if he had told his wife.
“Yeah, I told her. She knows,” he said flatly. “Sucks, because her mom is dying of cancer…has about three weeks left. So, yeah, she’s got that.”
He’s been waiting for his flight up to his new job. Stripped of his weapon and relegated to just the latrine, his room, the office, and the DFAC, he stays in the office and watches television in the evenings. Laughing at “The Simpsons,” or “The Family Guy,” you’d never think the guy had been through what he had.
But then it didn’t seem like he was too concerned.
There’s a strange disconnect with that man. The sort of cool, calculating, sociopath sort of disconnect. That sort of creepy “sure there are rules, and I’m breaking them,” informed malice.
The other day, during “The Amazing Race,” he made the comment “My wife and I would be great on this show. We hate each other.”
He’ll just laugh. Maybe it’s how he deals with life. He laughs about being chewed out. He’ll laugh after a botched briefing, after dropping the ball for an awards ceremony. He’ll just chuckle, like it had been 20 years and he was looking back, telling a story to an old friend.
There’s someone he calls at night and talks to. The conversation is one of those lovey-dovey, flirty sort of calls. We’re all wondering if he’s still talking to this lover of his. Maybe there’s someone else.
I hope the wife is doing okay. Yikes, new kid, deadbeat father, dying mother. That’s quite a lot to work through.
As for the good captain, I’ll have to watch that one. Anyone that unfeeling makes me nervous.