Chapter 6: Amtrak 196 Northbound
…Humid summer nights condensation…
,,,builds on the windows,
tiny drops form little streaks
as they race towards the outside sill.
In the last row of the 4th car,
Amtrak 196 Northbound from Washington, D.C.
to New York City, NY,
on the right-hand side of the car,
sits a big man by himself,
quiet, alone, deep in thoughts,
or maybe not,
maybe just looking at the blur outside,
no thoughts, just staring.
It is sometimes how the universe works, sometimes it just lines things up, you find yourself within it all, lost some, found some, don’t last for long but when it does you know it, you believe it, you are it and it is you.
The rhythm of the tracks, clack, clack, clack.
The gentle sway, sometimes side to side, sometimes, front to back.
Does it bring you to or take you from.
There sits a big man alone and within, a lone traveler no one sees, no one will remember, no one cares.
Some on the train talk with their companions, some read, two who smell of wine and yesterday, sleep, one is snoring.
The big man just stares.
He sees not Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey or New York.
He hears not the train’s mechanical switches, the brakes for stops, the brakes letting go to move forward.
What he sees is not out the window of the train, what he sees is in the window of his brain.
Napalm, helicopters, smoke, bits and pieces of people flying in the air, laying on the ground.
In time it becomes a movie you see over and over, you know what’s coming but you have to look, shutting your eyes only enhances the color.
Train don’t know that.
Passengers don’t know that.
Conductor don’t know that, but he knows the signs, he been there too.
He goes there some, he knows the look, he knows the shakes, he knows that when the eyes close and the neck muscles tighten, he ain’t seeing what you are seeing but he’s seen what you have seen.
Conductor becomes a brother then.
Conductor walks through the car, pretend he be looking at everyone, but he only looking at you, he only looking at a brother going back, falling back. He sees the leg shake, he sees the hand squeeze the thigh, he speeds up, he know to get there before the head looks down.
“Howdy Sir, how’s it going tonight.”
“...Company E, Battle Dai Do...”
...and then sits back, it’s the big man’s move.
A minute passes.
Two.
Three, maybe four.
“Thank you for your service, that was a rough one that Dai Do.”
“And thank you for your service as well, you going to be ok.”
With that the conductor moved forward in the seat turned to see the big man’s face but could only see the man’s reflection in the window.
Conductor he sees condensation drops running down the window.
Conductor he also sees in that Amtrak window reflection tear drops running down the big man’s cheeks.
So, he sat some, conductor did.
Sat until the next stop, job to do, so he got up.
But that conductor, he stayed in that train car all the way up to it stopped at the platform in NYC.
That conductor, he watched that big man all the time, big man never watched the conductor though.
Big man did shake his hand as he left the railroad car, big, tough strong grip, told him, “Thank You,” stepped off the car and walked away.
But that night wouldn’t you know it…
…at home with his wife, come about 2am, that conductor his own movie starts to roll in his head...Dai Do...all over again.
Comes soon the shakes, the sweats, the jaw gripping.
Conductor’s wife, she knows what to do, years of experience, slowly, softly, she moves her hand and grabs ahold to her husband’s hand, just holds it, just holds it until he comes back, until the clenching tops and once it stops and he is almost back she reaches for a tissue on the nightstand next to her side of the bed and with the tissue she wipes the tears off her husbands cheeks.
And then she leans over and whispers in his ear…
“…I love you…”
and
“…welcome back Sarge.”