him.” He laughed to himself. “Tell them Braydon boy’s coming.”
The next step in his quest to serve would be to go to Las Vegas and visit the proper recruiting offices. The journey is one and a half hours in his Volkswagen Thing. The anemic looking armadillo of a car, which he had nicknamed George, he had no idea why. It had a top speed of eighty miles per hour and that was downhill. The gas mileage was great, forty miles to the gallon and the air-conditioning was 2/60, two windows down at 60 mph. The thing was definitely not a chick car but why worry about that in Littlefield.
Braydon was very meticulous with everything he owned and he took care of it himself. All five of his shirts and seven pair of pants were clean and ironed. He even ironed his underwear. The Thing looked fresh off the showroom and ran like a top.
He told his mother and father what he wanted to do, mother was very shy, uncertain about it and ask him to think it over while his father just told him to go for it and puckered out his chest, “You’re a man now do what you feel is right. It is great to serve your country.”
He packed and loaded his few belongings, knowing he would be moving to a Seals or Rangers base and they would have all the clothing and gear he would need. Saying his goodbyes to his tearful mother, kissing her gently, and hugging his proud father and waving goodbye to his friends he jumped into George, shifting into first gear burst toward I-15 at the speed of light, well maybe a slow turtle and then headed south. A red Thing did look a little out of place putting down the freeway; usually a thing was a drab color and never red, he got some interesting and unusual stares from passersby’s. In a Thing, everyone is a passerby.
“it’s ok baby, you may not be fast but your beautiful, at least to me.” He whispered to George.
Imagination can be an improbable dream but yet it could carry us over limitless hurdles, the drive was a kaleidoscope of future wishes and what lies ahead fantasies. Although he had made the trip several times, this time was different, his expectations chilled his feelings. Vegas is a city of dreams or dreams collapsed. It didn’t matter because he was on a quest. He was going to serve his country and preserve peace in the world. He didn’t have to be a hero, just serve to the best of his abilities.
The Thing purred along, if you can call it that, and when Braydon was 20 miles out he passed under a train bridge and knew if you count to 20 after going under it and crest the hill, Vegas magically appears. “Works every time” he said to himself! The city of lights looked more like a town covered with soot; some of the monolithic gambling crowns were hardly visible at this time of day.
It was a short hop off I-15 to the recruiter office’s on east Sahara, and his expectations grew with the last few miles. The Rangers were his first stop although his first choice was the Seals. He was able to find a parking place out front, which is just about unheard of in Vegas. “Good JU JU,” he said to the thing as he closed the door and strolled like a man with a purpose crossing the street, pulling the door open to the Army Recruiting Office and marching right in, head high chin out. He was a Ranger by every definition of a Ranger. The Recruiting Sargent happily greeted him, looking every bit the part with spit shined shoes and dress uniform that was immaculate, a big smile, dark cropped hair, about Braydon’s height only more muscular with a vice handshake.
“Welcome”, the Sergeant greeted him, “What can I help you with?”
Braydon explain that he wanted to be a Ranger and asked what he had to do. The Sergeant didn’t laugh but a curve appeared on the edge of his lips.
“How tall are you and how much do you weigh?”
“Six foot four and a 175 lbs.” he retorted.
Braydon didn’t give much thought to the question and explained: “Sergeant I have spent my life in the wilds, building my strength and training. I can think like the wolf and react like the hawk, my knowledge was taught by Mother Nature, and there is no better teacher. I know I could be a big asset to the Rangers.”
“Do you know what a Ranger is?” The Sergeant was definitely skeptical and had a pasted scowl on his face.
“Of course I do, they are a fast acting response team that goes anywhere they are needed.”
“So you do know that Rangers go anywhere and do whatever they are called upon to do? They are trained for killing and endurance and rescue other. They have to be more than one hundred percent top in physical as well as mental strength. To protect and to serve, just like the police. Of those who try to qualify for the Rangers, less than ten percent make it. How do you stack up to these qualities?”
“Great sir, I am very strong and can control my thinking and emotions and add the quality that I can swim like a fish I should be a natural for the Rangers.”
“The Rangers are primarily land based. The Seals go in the water.” He said with a huff.
The Sargent didn’t know where to go now, he just looked at Braydon and then said, “You’ll have to have a basic physical before the enlistment papers can even be completed and that will take an hour or so.”
“Good by me.” It was a smug remark; he knew a physical would be a breeze for him.
The doctor or whatever he was had an office two doors down the hall. The Sergeant took Braydon to the office, knock on the door and introduce Braydon to the doctor. “I’ll leave you in Doctor Winder’s capable hands, and then I’ll talk to you later.” He turned and walked away.
Braydon sat down and the Doctor plunked in the chair across from him, “Want to be a Ranger do you?” the doctor asked, he looked anything but fit specimen himself. Five foot seven inches, gray hair and weighting in at two hundred twenty pounds.
“Very much so, I have thought about it all my life!” Braydon puffed out his chest and stared into the doctors blank eyes.
“Do you know what it takes to be a Ranger?”
“No Sir, I really don’t, but my father was a Marine and he taught me lots of things about what he went through. The enlistment officer out front there gave me a brief overview and that’s the extent of what I know.”
The doctor moved his chair closer to Braydon and went over the process, “if you pass the physical, the intelligence test and evaluation, you’ll be in hell for six months and then another six months in hotter hell with specific training, survival training in all terrain, landing on beaches under cover. Only small percentages make it and your physic does not lend itself to being Ranger, truthfully I don’t think you have a snowballs chance in hell of making it. May I suggest you join the Army where good men like yourself are always in demand?”
Butch wanted to tell him his training in the desert was harder than any of the crap the Doctor was feeding him, but he could see there was no use in arguing, he would just go the other direction he had thought of.
The Doctor was a realest
