Postwar Days #3: August 15, 1945 Pt. 3

A man and a musical

Charlie Hughes was shaken awake with a dry mouth, a pounding head, and an aching cock. Groaning, he slugged his assailant in the gut, but the other man didn’t stop. At last, Charlie managed to get his eyes open. It was Darren, that son of a bitch. Charlie asked him what was so goddamn important.

Darren told him that it was almost ten, but that wasn’t important. He had come to tell Charlie that Japan had finally surrendered – it was all over the radio. Charlie swung at Darren again. If he was going to be woken up, it should have been for women, or at least food. Not news of the inevitable.

Charlie rolled out of bed and shoved his comrade away on his way to the latrine. His boots, still left on after last night’s drinking, sunk into the Burmese dirt. Outside, the camp was even more chaotic than usual, with men shouting in celebration. Some idiot was banging a trash can, sending spikes of pain through Charlie’s cloudy mind. He didn’t think he would vomit this morning. Probably.