Common People

by Jon Moore

I was sitting at a restaurant in Ft. Hood, TX. When a young family, like my own, came in. Everyone was joyful. They were so, ‘All American’. Just like the family’s in the poster. There were three children; the oldest, perhaps being 5 years old at most. There was no denying that they are newly arrived here and had another family member was accompanying them on this move, perhaps a sister?.

I paid them no mind, aside from the fact I was remembering what I was like, just a few years ago when my kiddo was younger. I barely looked up at them, I didn’t want to make them feel uncomfortable with my attention.

I shared in their joy and ambitions of the moment. Even not looking at them, one couldn’t help but to smile. At this time, the young man - the Alpha, clearly a soldier or military - 99% sure this guy was an Officer [Don’t ask me how I know…] receives a phone call. He picks up the phone and answers in a polite southern accent. Listens, attentively, puts them on hold and he politely tells his family he was going outside to take this call.

Nothing, absolutely NOTHING was out of the ordinary. However, one thing stuck out about him. I was in a position to see and hear him just as he walked out the door and out of possible ear range of his family.

Nothing, absolutely NOTHING was out of the ordinary. However, one thing stuck out about him. I was in a position to see and hear him just as he walked out the door and out of possible ear range of his family.

Nothing, absolutely NOTHING was out of the ordinary. However, one thing stuck out about him. I was in a position to see and hear him just as he walked out the door and out of possible ear range of his family.

“Yes....ok. What time?” However, as he entered the doors to exit outside, he switched his speaking tone, his accent, and his body language as he took this call outside. Definitely a Slovak language. Russian, Ukrainian possibly Hungarian [When I first joined the military My first MOS upon entering was - Linguist. Later I was later recast as a, now sun-setted, M.O.S of 14J. Ya know, fer those keepin track.]

In Ft. Hood, TX no one bluffs. A scared dog bites. An alpha who’s hurried 20 others, many of which were waaayyyy better humans than you... Someone who simply ignores and avoids confrontations and all conflicts, usually at great personal cost. The ‘wrong person, here, means you will just wind up “missing”. In Ft. Hood, TX everyone failed P.E. in school. No one saw anything. No one said anything. If there’s ever a town where you keep your head down, New York City is for undisciplined thugs. This is place where only the amateurs and lower enlisted get caught....or the blame.

Even arbitrary ‘happen-chances’ are seemingly more calculated here. Do you think the other person you’ve been chit chatting in the park, to talk about _________ because you both had ___________ in common? Yeah, no. You can feel them trying to size you up. You can sense their trepidation when they encounter you, because you fit something they were trained to spot. What is it? Is it an unspoken understanding? Perhaps even incidental misunderstanding. You can smell the smoke coming out of their ears from brain over stimulation as they’re trying decide if you’re a friend or foe.

The one’s whom keep us safe, are also the ones who bury you.