At noon the next day, Lieutenant Brooks, in uniform, said good-bye to Mrs. Brooks. They spoke formally. Around them other soldiers were politely saying good-bye to their wives also. There was no frantic passion as there had been when that planeload had arrived from Vietnam. There were only a few tears.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Rufus,” Lila said softly not looking at him.
“No,” he answered. “It wasn’t.”
“Good-bye.” Tears welled then streamed.
“Good-bye,” he said simply, watching her crack. She turned and ran from him, ran from the loading gate, from the terminal, from Hawaii. He turned and walked up the ramp. In his throat he sang the lyrics to the song Walk Like A Man. His spine was straight, his lips formed the words, Walk.…
The Hawaii torment followed him, chased him for
