out.”
“ Why'd you retire?”
“ Not worth dying for. I had a chance to make some money going
private so I did. No regrets.”
The line shuffled forward a little and we shuffled with it. I
was close enough to an orange juice dispenser and so I poured
myself a plastic cup and downed it in one long gulp. I poured two
more and passed one to Riley.
“ I loved being an instructor in the Rangers,” she continued.
“But after a while they stopped sending me out into the field. They
wanted me teaching the guys. What's the point in teaching it if
you're not pulling your own weight? These guys were coming back in
body bags and there I was, droning on in a class room. I asked to
be put on active duty and they refused, so I left.”
“ How did private life work out for you?” I asked. We shuffled
again. The smells were getting stronger and I could see a fat guy
in a white apron flipping burgers on a fiery grill.
“ I was back in the field for a while. We had people in Turkey,
Iran, even Georgia until the Reds pushed back with their T-18s.
Then they learned about me being an instructor from some G.I and I
was back in the class room three days out of seven. So I quit that
too which was just as well because that day I got the phone call from
my sister.”
“ Is she okay with you being out here?”
“ She just wants her son back in one piece. I don't think I
figure into the equation when it comes to her boy.”
We reached the front of the line and Riley began talking to
the guy in the apron like they were old pals. He asked her how she
wanted her steak and she repeated her culinary instructions with a
little more colour than she'd told me. He took a thick piece of cow
from a stack, flopped it onto the grill and waited five seconds or
so before flipping it with his greasy spatula. After another brief
pause he flipped it again, grabbed a plate already loaded with
roasted veg and gravy and threw the bloody slab on top of it. Riley
gave the cook the devil horns with her free hand and grabbed the
plate with the other.
“ Well?” The cook asked me.
“ A little less blood thanks,” I said.
“ Hey!” he cried. “You're an Aussie. You're a bit far from
home, buddy.”
“ You think?” I replied as he threw his cow meat onto the
grill. It sizzled as he leaned the flat of his spatula onto it like
it might cook quicker that way. All I saw was the flavour being
lost to the flames.
“ Wow. I met an Arab last week. Now an Aussie. How's things
down under?”
“ Bonza,” I said. “Bloody brilliant. I'd rather be on a bloody
beach right now, sinking a few beers with the boys over a barby.”
The cook was in stitches as he flipped over my steak. It looked a
bit more dead than the one he'd served Riley.
“ There ya go buddy,” he said, slamming it onto the plate.
“Enjoy a bit of US hospitality, pal.”
“ Cor,” I said, “Bloody nice of you, mate.”
“ Don't mention it.”
I wormed my way through the benches to where Riley sat with
six beefy looking guys in battle dress and already she was chatting
to them. I took the empty space opposite her and watched as she
talked and chewed at the same time.
“ Oh man, Iran was a shit-storm, dude,” she shouted, cutting
into her steak like it was a cadaver. Blood oozed from the wound.
“You guys were there?”
I admit to having zoned out for a bit. I was more concerned
with enjoying the piece of meat in front of me. Despite his bad
geography skills, the guy in the apron knew how to grill. The meat
was fantastic and even the roasted vegetables tasted like they'd
come from my own garden. Half-way through I got up to get another
drink and, noticing her cup was empty, I took it with me. When I
returned her steak was gone and she was stabbing the potatoes with
her fork as if she wanted to get through to the other side of the
plate. I passed her the cup. The guys in battle dress had
gone.
“ What happened to your mates?” I asked.
“ Those shit heads? If they were in
“ Why'd you retire?”
“ Not worth dying for. I had a chance to make some money going
private so I did. No regrets.”
The line shuffled forward a little and we shuffled with it. I
was close enough to an orange juice dispenser and so I poured
myself a plastic cup and downed it in one long gulp. I poured two
more and passed one to Riley.
“ I loved being an instructor in the Rangers,” she continued.
“But after a while they stopped sending me out into the field. They
wanted me teaching the guys. What's the point in teaching it if
you're not pulling your own weight? These guys were coming back in
body bags and there I was, droning on in a class room. I asked to
be put on active duty and they refused, so I left.”
“ How did private life work out for you?” I asked. We shuffled
again. The smells were getting stronger and I could see a fat guy
in a white apron flipping burgers on a fiery grill.
“ I was back in the field for a while. We had people in Turkey,
Iran, even Georgia until the Reds pushed back with their T-18s.
Then they learned about me being an instructor from some G.I and I
was back in the class room three days out of seven. So I quit that
too which was just as well because that day I got the phone call from
my sister.”
“ Is she okay with you being out here?”
“ She just wants her son back in one piece. I don't think I
figure into the equation when it comes to her boy.”
We reached the front of the line and Riley began talking to
the guy in the apron like they were old pals. He asked her how she
wanted her steak and she repeated her culinary instructions with a
little more colour than she'd told me. He took a thick piece of cow
from a stack, flopped it onto the grill and waited five seconds or
so before flipping it with his greasy spatula. After another brief
pause he flipped it again, grabbed a plate already loaded with
roasted veg and gravy and threw the bloody slab on top of it. Riley
gave the cook the devil horns with her free hand and grabbed the
plate with the other.
“ Well?” The cook asked me.
“ A little less blood thanks,” I said.
“ Hey!” he cried. “You're an Aussie. You're a bit far from
home, buddy.”
“ You think?” I replied as he threw his cow meat onto the
grill. It sizzled as he leaned the flat of his spatula onto it like
it might cook quicker that way. All I saw was the flavour being
lost to the flames.
“ Wow. I met an Arab last week. Now an Aussie. How's things
down under?”
“ Bonza,” I said. “Bloody brilliant. I'd rather be on a bloody
beach right now, sinking a few beers with the boys over a barby.”
The cook was in stitches as he flipped over my steak. It looked a
bit more dead than the one he'd served Riley.
“ There ya go buddy,” he said, slamming it onto the plate.
“Enjoy a bit of US hospitality, pal.”
“ Cor,” I said, “Bloody nice of you, mate.”
“ Don't mention it.”
I wormed my way through the benches to where Riley sat with
six beefy looking guys in battle dress and already she was chatting
to them. I took the empty space opposite her and watched as she
talked and chewed at the same time.
“ Oh man, Iran was a shit-storm, dude,” she shouted, cutting
into her steak like it was a cadaver. Blood oozed from the wound.
“You guys were there?”
I admit to having zoned out for a bit. I was more concerned
with enjoying the piece of meat in front of me. Despite his bad
geography skills, the guy in the apron knew how to grill. The meat
was fantastic and even the roasted vegetables tasted like they'd
come from my own garden. Half-way through I got up to get another
drink and, noticing her cup was empty, I took it with me. When I
returned her steak was gone and she was stabbing the potatoes with
her fork as if she wanted to get through to the other side of the
plate. I passed her the cup. The guys in battle dress had
gone.
“ What happened to your mates?” I asked.
“ Those shit heads? If they were in
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