The Deeper I Fall

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 24, 2017

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Submitted: October 24, 2017








My name is Caruthers Mangledfield. It's a hard name to live with and most folks forget it 10 seconds after I tell them so I just introduce myself as Buddy.

My parents died when I was 7. I am 21 now and have a childish memory of them. They were nice people. So are my aunt and uncle who adopted me.

Yes they were nice folks but I on the other hand was a terror as a kid and not much better as a teenager. I didn't get it til I joined the army. Then I got it. Full force right in the gut. I became a soldier and a man all at the same time.


I don't know if I am a good man but I do know I am a good soldier. I can't tell you what makes me good because most of what I do is classified. I am sure you understand. But I didn't come here to talk about just soldiering and being a man. I came to talk about other things that affect my life, like women, other men and the drink.

Yah. When I am not soldiering or getting ready to go soldiering I drink because it helps me forget that most of my life is about violence. And when I drink I think about women and since I am not a bad looking dude I don't have much trouble picking one up when I need to.


The other thing I do is chew up and spit out clowns who think they are men because they have big arms and six-pack bellies and throw their weight around picking on other men who are really more man than they are but choose just to be whatever they are. This kind of activity has landed me in trouble, more than once. My CO has ordered me to lay low or one of these days I'll do some damage he can't get me out of.


I ship out in 5 days. I am going to see my aunt and uncle before I go. I miss them and they worry about me. I wish I could make them understand that I'll be alright. I'm always alright, even when I am up to my ass in grunge and guts. I am going to tell them that I'll always come home, but I doubt that'll help much.


Last night I hit the bars. It is a good thing I am shipping out. I beat the crap out of a jerk who was beating the crap out of his girlfriend because she couldn't pay their bill. I told her to dump the jerk and run. I told him that if he did anything to her while I was gone I'd finish the job when I got back. He was bleeding pretty bad and to tell you the truth I wasn't sure if he recovered. I would check it out when I am done this job. Hope he ain't dead.


Three months seventeen days. I am finally back, in a hospital bed. I took a shot in the shoulder and another in the leg. Both bullets broke bones. I'll be laid up for a couple of more months and my job is on the line. They are worried that getting hurt will change me, but it won't. They taught me my job well. I know how to kill. I am not sure I can do any other job.

The jerk I beat up before I left is dead, but not because of me. His girlfriend stabbed him 16 times, three time in the heart. Any one of them could have been the killer stab.


Her face looks like hamburger, sliced, diced and fried. They didn't put her in jail. They put her in an institution for the criminally insane. I am not sure that was fair but I believe it is for her own good. When I get out of this bed I'll go visit her. Maybe I can help somehow though I don't know how. Maybe she's gone too far over the edge to be helped. I heard she was really strung out on drugs when she went berserk on her boyfriend.


Tomorrow I get out of this hospital. I have been posted to a training camp as a combat instructor. They tell me it's a temporary assignment ordered by the doctors until my wounds finish healing. I guess I can live with that explanation for a while. Three or four months they say.

I went to see Martha at the institution. That's the girl that killed her violent boyfriend. She was looking pretty good and someone had paid to get some plastic surgery on her face. A shrink was still working on her head. She was calm. Too calm. I recognize the mood. Simmering.


It's been a year now. I am a Brick Leader. An officer and I got married. To Martha. She is a great lady a fine artist and soon to be mother. The problem lies in the secrecy of my job. I can't tell her anything. She wants me to quit. I can't. I don't know anything else except for soldiering. I told her that. She cried for a while but then accepted my truth. And she asked me what would happen if I didn't come back sometime. I told her she would be taken care of. I have life insurance.


I am going away again. For a year I'm told. My kid will be born while I am away. My heart is not in it this time, but I am signed. I could resign but I would lose everything and I still don't have any other skills except looking down the scope of a rifle and squeezing the trigger. What does a guy like me do in the domestic world? I suppose I could go on one of those rehab training courses but it wouldn't work.  And the longer I am here the deeper I fall.


© Copyright 2018 Donald Harry Roberts. All rights reserved.

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