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Episode 24: Farewell to Schuster
July 28, 2005 1:00 p.m. (Baghdad Time)
Al Asad, Iraq
By LCpl Sincioco
"Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends."
—Richard Bach
[When I started writing this Episode, Schuster was doing his last minute packing. He joked, "You're probably writing about me, aren't you?" "Yep, the next Episode of the Chronicles of Sin," I replied. He smiled. "What's it going to be called?" he asked. "I'm not sure yet, but be sure to read it when you get back in the States," I said. "Oh, I will," he said enthusiastically. So, here it is Schuster.]
Introduction
I wrote on Episode 10, about LCpl Smith, that the paradox I seem to find myself frequently is this: I hate making friends, because I hate losing them. But, as I once wrote to Mummey, if life is a canvas then friends are surely the colors by which it is painted. The past 7 months has been a most colorful experience, in no small part due to Schuster. I have met a lot of people here in 28 Comm Squadron and got to know some of them, and lived with a handful of them—Schuster was one of them.
Unlike Episode 17 where I wrote a benign Schuster, this one will be the "reality TV" version. The little prankster that can get on anyone's nerve without even so much as trying is not very easy to live with or get along with. But like a pair of brand new boots that is painful to wear—at first—he grows on you. Just give it time; a lot of time! Either that or I grew thicker skin through the course of this deployment by being roommates with him. Either way, Schuster has changed me and shaped me in ways that would have rippling effects long after he is gone.
A Matter of Trust
"You know what Schuster?"
"What?" he asked.
"You just fucked it up for the future Mummeys and Serratos."
"Why is that?"
"Because whenever I open up to you and tell you something about me, you use it against me," I said in contempt.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean."
He smiled and laughed.
"You shouldn't be so trusting with people. See, you're learning something from me," he joked.
"Yeah, I'm learning not to trust you or anyone like you."
One day, I just threw the gauntlets down and said to myself, "two can play this game." If being nice to Schuster causes me pain and grief, it's time to return the favor and give him some of his own medicine. I could be just as annoying and as immature as he was if I really wanted to; I just choose not to. Was it possible to be a more annoying Schuster than Schuster himself?
"What transmission is your car, Sin?" he asked curiously.
"Why do you want to know?" I asked suspiciously.
"I just want to know."
"Why?"
"Is it automatic or manual?"
"What's it to you?"
"God, Sin! I just want to know!"
"You don't need to know, that's my point."
"It's not like you're going to die if I know."
"The less you know about me the better."
A conversation like that would frustrate the hell out of anyone—Schuster even more so. For the next several days he tried to pry the information out of me. He may have lost some sleep over it—who knows? He was baffled as to why I was withholding useless information for no apparent good reason. And he was right; sort of. I was doing it on purpose, to get under his skin; in much the same way he gets under my skin all the time for seemingly no good reason but just to have fun—at my expense.
My relationship with Schuster pretty much stayed that way for a good long while—months. We were anything but friends. We were roommates, gym buddies, co-workers. But friends? Hell no! Never! Not in a million years.
No Thanks
I always found it odd that whenever I did something nice for Schuster he would never say thank you. I often wondered if his parents taught him to say "please" or "thank you" at all at a young age because those words seems to be absent from his vocabulary. Or maybe it was boot camp, as we were not permitted to say those kind words.
One night he woke up to get ready for work and noticed there was no water in the room. He started whining and complaining about it for minutes.
"You fuckers are stealing my water," he accused.
"If you spent all that time getting water instead of complaining about it, you'd have some by now," I replied.
He looked around the room and noticed there were empty bottled water next to people's rack.
"See, right there! Integrity violator!" he pointed out.
"Shut up, Schuster. I'll go get you some water so you can stop being such a little bitch," I said.
I went and grabbed two packs of bottled water (a dozen of them).
"How about, 'Thank you, Sin' or some shit like that?" I demanded.
He didn't say anything. He was just all smiling and grinning, just like a little kid who got his way by faking a cry.
"You're welcome, Shoes-ster," I annunciated his name slowly.
He just smiled and continued to get ready for work.
Months have gone by, and luckily things have changed since.
Schuster on Deck
On July 23, 2005 Schuster happily comes by at the DSID at around 1500 (3 p.m.), in his usual all-smiling self. It was supposed to be his last day in Iraq.
"Let's go, Sin!" he hurried with a smile.
"Alright, let me just pack my stuff," I replied.
Him showing up at the DSID was completely unexpected, but a welcomed one. I had already planned on packing my stuff before he came on deck in the hopes that I'd catch him in the Tin Can so I can ask him to go to dinner. His unexpected appearance reminded me of the same situation in January—deja vue—when LCpl Smith surprisingly showed up at the DSID for the same reason: to have our last supper.
"I got to turn in my badge before 1630 [4:30 p.m.]," he explained.
"Just wait and I'll walk with you to turn in your badge," I replied.
We walked to a building across the TACC and we turned in his badge, then we headed straight for the Tin Can.
Nuclear Winter
"You want to go to chow Schuster?" I asked.
"It's too early for chow, and I'm not sure if I will, it's so hot," he complained.
"Come on, Schuster. It will be your last chow in Al Asad. Our last chow together," I dramatized.
"I hate it when you put things that way," he remarked.
Ever rarely, but it does happen, guilt-trip working on Schuster. Realize that Schuster does not just "yes" to things very easily. You always have to convince him to go along with your plan, or he'll operate under his own SOP—Schuster's Operating Plan.
We went to the Tin Can and Schuster packed all his gear and cleaned up his wall locker. I was really tired, but I did my best to keep a conversation going with him. With all the food he had in his pantry (wall locker), it was no wonder why he doesn't like going to the chow hall. Schuster had been my roommates for over 5 months, and I've only gone to the chow hall with him probably about 5 times. He hates walking to the chow hall. I can't say I blame him, it's three-quarters of a mile walk, one-way, and the 120+ degrees on some days does not make for a fun walk.
"Man, you had all these food in your wall locker and you never gave them away?"
"I was preparing for a nuclear winter. I could live off of these for a while," he reasoned.
"Damn, you even have skittles and never offered?"
"They were always here, Sin."
"Well, unlike you, I don't go through people's wall lockers," I replied smartly.
He smiled because when I barely knew Schuster, he helped himself with Black and White (a game) and the LinkSys router I had in my wall locker. By the time he left Iraq, I think he knew my wall locker better than I did.
"Here, you want some, Sin?"
"I don't know how long have you opened it?"
"Just four days ago."
"I don't know," I hesitated.
"Seriously, Sin. I just opened this bag 4 days ago," he said slightly annoyed sensing my distrust.
"Okay, eat some then," I dared him.
He poured a hand full and eat them.
"Alright, I'll take it."
I took the skittles and stuffed it in my computer bag. It's not the first time Schuster has given me food. He used to give me canned food whenever there was a dust storm and we didn't feel like going to the TACC building for chow. Schuster has a generous side; you just don't see it every day.
The Girl Next Door
When he got done packing, the chow hall still wasn't going to open for another 45 minutes.
"Let's go the PX first before going to the chow hall," I suggested.
"No, Sin, it's too hot. What do you need from the PX?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"See, then why go?"
"Because it's the last time you'll be in Al Asad's PX." Again, I dramaticized.
Schuster shook his head left to right. At that point, I didn't think he'd go to either the chow hall or the PX. I rarely ever persuade Schuster to do anything he doesn't want. Case in point, I asked him to go to the chow hall the day before and he said no because it was too hot for him.
"Okay, well, I got to make a head call first," he said.
"You read my mind," I replied back.
When we got to the head, the handle to the door was broken, so we couldn't open it.
"Oh well, let's just piss on our way to the PX," he suggested.
"Okay, sounds good."
"Wait! Sin, did you see that girl?!" he asked excitedly.
"What girl?"
"There was this girl in shorts."
"So, what about her?"
"I'm going to sit here and wait for her to come by again."
"You're so stupid, Schuster."
He laughed.
But, once Schuster has made up his mind, he's made up his mind.
"Alright, I'll go get ready then," I suggested.
"Okay. Come out here when you are done, so we can alternate...so you can call me when she passes by again," he said excitedly.
"Alright, just give me a minute."
We waited outside the Tin Can for a few minutes. But the heat was killing both of us.
"We'd better get going, it's freaking hot," I told him.
"Just a few more minutes," he insisted.
Eventually, we left without seeing the girl again. We walked in the blistering heat to the PX.
A Sliver of Hope
"I appreciate you going to the PX and to the chow hall with me, Schuster," I said.
"No problem, Sin. Even though it's so freaking hot. Oh my God, I may have to take a shower when we get back."
"Why don't you?"
"Because I've already packed all my things in my sea bag."
"Ah."
A moment of silence fell.
"This is kind of odd, you going with me to the PX and the chow hall," I kidded.
"Why is that?" he asked.
"Because, it serves no purpose to you. It doesn't benefit you in any way," I half-kidded.
He smiled. He knew what I was talking about.
"I know, this is the second time," he proudly recalled.
The first time was when he agreed to be in my NAM ceremony, again in the blistering heat when he could have been sleeping comfortably in the air-conditioned Tin Can.
"This is not good," I observed.
"Why is that?"
"There may yet be hope for you, Schuster."
He laughed.
"Going out of your way for others. I don't know, you might actually start developing real friends," I continued.
Schuster just laughed. The kind of laugh I once told him I wish he'd let me photograph but he never does.
"I can't fake my smile on pictures," he once argued.
"Why not, it's easy, just go like this." I smiled.
"I have to think of something funny in my head."
"Then, why don't you?"
"I do, but they only last for a split second."
"Did I ever tell you that at a certain angle you look like Tom Cruise?"
"Shut up, Sin! Only my mom tells me that," he said softly.
"It's true," I assured him.
The Koran
We went to the PX and we each bought a Gatorade to hydrate ourselves. Then we went to the gift shop.
"Why are you buying a Koran?" I asked.
"It's my souvenir," he replied.
"You can't even read it."
"I know."
And as soon as he said that, he entered Schuster's World.
"I'm going to go to Kuwait, and tear one of these pages in front of the Hajis," he joked.
"Yeah, uh-huh, right. We have obviously entered Schuster's World," I replied.
The Torch
We made our way to the chow hall. Dinner was salmon and pork. We had a long and productive conversation as we have not sat down for dinner together in a long while. The last time we did it was the day I got him in trouble over the lack of use of headphones, and that was months ago. He passed on some critical knowledge to me; ways of hooking up with girls when I get back in the States.
"I vow to carry on the torch Schuster," I said with a fake voice.
"Good, Sin."
"Before I leave Iraq, I promise to pass it on to another Marine."
We both laughed.
After we got done eating, we stayed in the chow hall for a little while. Schuster was waiting for Sgt Bui from across the chow hall to get up so we can walk back to the Tin Can together with him. But, he never did. An officer sat down next to us, so Schuster and I made for a quick exit.
Sergeant Bui
I'll back track three weeks back. I once remarked, "I haven't met an Asian Marine." When I said Asian, I narrowly meant Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese. Something with the -ese at the end. And when I said "met" I really meant befriend. And low and behold, the next day, as if God was listening to my stupid remark, a new Marine moved in to our Tin Can. Not just any Marine, but an Asian one! And not just an Asian Marine, a Sergeant at that!
"Fun time is over Schuster," I joked.
Schuster smiled.
"You haven't made any Asian remarks since Sgt Bui moved in," I said.
Schuster just smiled and grinned.
"What are you guys talking about?" Sgt Bui asked.
"Schuster used to make all sorts of stupid remarks and generalizations about Asians," I spilled.
"Like what?"
"Like Asians drive Japanese cars."
"I do have a Japanese car," Sgt Bui replied.
"See, see, what did I tell you!" Schuster got all excited.
"But I also have an American truck," Sgt Bui continued.
Schuster was all smiling and grinning still. I could tell all those Asian jokes are running through his head.
"Tell him about the gong," Schuster whispered.
"About what?" Sgt Bui asked.
"Schuster and I used to go to the gym. And when I lifted weights, he used to say 'at the sound of the gong, push!'" I said.
Sgt Bui laughed.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
I spent the next three weeks mostly playing chess with Sgt Bui. He defeated me on our first match because I was playing Soul Caliber II and listening to Club Schuster (that's what I named my playlist that contains club music I got from Schuster) on my iPod while playing chess with him. But in subsequent games, I defeated him every time. On one of our last games, although he won, didn't really count, since I checkmated him mid-way in the game, but I allowed him to take back his last move. It was always a pleasure playing chess with Sgt Bui. He did not see every game as a defeat, but as a learning process; an insight to the mind of Sin.
"I always play defensively," I said.
"You got to play offensively, Sin. This is chess," Sgt Bui advised.
"I usually just re-act to your moves, so in essence, you create the predicaments you find yourself in."
Sgt Bui laughed.
"Crouching tiger, hidden dragon" is usually my tactic. I'll always mislead my opponent to thinking he's got me nearly checkmated, until the very end where I would unleash a breath of fire I have been concealing. I've had games where I'm only one or two moves away from being checkmated but I still won by going on the offensive. Games like that are exciting because it keeps you at the edge of your seat. The spectators watch and they don't know who is going to win. The art of misdirection works well in the game of chess, much like it does in magic.
Back at the Tin Can
Now that you have been misdirected, let us now get back to our story. So, Schuster and I left the chow hall because an officer sat next to us. We went back to the Tin Can, which pretty much concluded the day. He needed to sleep and I needed to do my 3 Ss (shit, shower and shave) before sleeping. But just before he fell asleep, Cpl Gonzales, Cpl Porter, Schuster and myself regaled at old times.
Ahh, the good old days of when we wanted to beat the crap out of each other in some days, or kill one another with a snake or other means in some days. We even plotted to beat the crop out of Schuster one day, but never followed through because we knew he'd cry to the Company Office like a little bitch and get us all demoted. Oh, how far we have come since those days.
"You're going to cry when I leave, Sin," Schuster teased.
"I probably will, Schuster," I joked back.
"You're going to miss me when I'm gone."
"Oh, I know I will Schuster. No doubt about it."
And he likes that; the thought that someone will miss him when he leaves. The thing about Schuster is that he likes to be noticed, to be the center of attention, kind of like Clackler. And to still give him attention after he leaves, by missing him, is exactly what he wanted to happen.
"See this, no one can use my rack. It's an honorary rack," he joked.
"Don't worry, I'm sure one of these [new] guys will replace your masturbation station."
"I know you want it, Sin. So you can think of me when—-"
"Okay, let's not go there, Schuster," I interjected.
While I did not take his rack when he left, I did take one of his wall locker, his pantry as he calls it, as it was closer to my rack.
Schuster's Penultimate Day
The next day, I woke up at 0500. Schuster and the advance party were supposed to leave at 0615. I went to the bathroom to piss. As I opened the door, I noticed it was still dark that I could see the full moon in the sky, but bright enough that I noticed my shadow on the ground. With my handy-dandy LED flashlight I made my way to the bathroom.
Someone started talking to me on my way to the bathroom. I didn't know who it was at first until he spoke.
"What are you doing up already, Sin?" Schuster asked.
He was unusually cognitive. Usually, it takes SOS, Schuster's Operating System, a few minutes to load before he can complete full sentences in the morning.
"I had to get up to piss. Plus, I told you, I would wake up early to see you go. Are you going back to sleep?" I asked.
"Maybe," he replied
He went back to the room and I proceeded to the bathroom. As I was about to grab the broken handle of the bathroom door, someone opens it abruptly, nearly slamming it to my face. When I opened the bathroom door to get out, I nearly slammed it open on Sgt Bui's face. By the time I got back in the Tin Can I noticed Schuster had slipped back inside his Fortress of Solitude.
I noticed his laptop was not on top of his wall locker, which could only mean he was using it.
"Trying to masturbate for the last time before you leave Iraq, Schuster?" I asked jokingly.
"No, I'm trying to delete some of my porn," he replied.
Shortly thereafter, his alarm clock went off.
"Rise and shine, sunshine!" I said loudly, as I usually do whenever I'm around and his alarm clock would go off.
He did some last minute packing. His NCO, and SNCO came in informing him the truck had been waiting outside. He hurriedly grabbed his gear and raced to the truck that was impatiently waiting.
"What happened to my hug, Schuster?" I asked.
"Wait a minute, I'll be back," he replied, as he rushed out the door.
A minute later, he did come back.
Enemy Today, Friend Tomorrow
It has been said that friendship that comes out of adversity is friendship worth keeping. One evening a few months ago, Schuster and I reached a fork in the road.
"I'll be glad when this deployment is over, Schuster," I said.
"Why is that?" Schuster asked.
"Because I don't have to see you or speak to you anymore."
"Why, Sin?" he wondered.
I left the conversation hanging and went to sleep. Schuster lay there in silence, trying to figure out what he had done that's was so terrible that would make me not want to speak or see him anymore. In reality, he hadn't done anything, he was just being himself.
"I hate it when you leave things hanging before we go to sleep," Schuster remarked.
"I know, that's why I do it," I replied.
"I can't go to sleep. I end up thinking about it all night," Schuster revealed.
"Yep, I know."
"What a bastard!"
I laughed and went to sleep smiling.
The Goodbye Hug
With all of his gear all loaded up in the truck the moment of truth was finally at hand. It was time to say goodbye.
"Well, we never did shake hands when we met, so let's shake hands now," I extended my hand to Schuster.
Schuster in his usual all-smiling mood grabbed my hand and shook it.
We had joked about hugging each other when he leaves Iraq many times before—weeks before. It was just a joke then, but somehow when the moment finally came it wasn't as funny—it was actually rather sad.
"How am I supposed to give you a hug with all your gear on?" I asked.
"You really want a hug, Sin?" Schuster asked with a smile.
"Of course," I replied.
I always hate saying goodbye, because I hate to see people leave especially the ones I have come to know. When I left Camp Lejeune, I couldn't hug Clackler because I had my hands full of stuff. When Smith left for Fallujah I was carrying food for Sgt Williams. When I saw Mummey in Qatar and when he left Qatar, I didn't hug him then either for whatever reason. So, hugs and goodbyes never seemed to work for me and I didn't see how it could work with Schuster—especially with Schuster.
In the last few days before Schuster left, we had many pictures taken together. A few of them with my arms around his shoulder. But Schuster, he would just stand there, he wouldn't reciprocate.
"Just put your arm around Sin's shoulder," Cpl Weller demanded.
Schuster just shrugged his shoulder, but didn't move his arm. Schuster is surprisingly shy around a camera, I'm not sure why. Rarely have I ever captured the "real" Schuster, so the more I try much to his annoyance.
So, I put my hand over his shoulder as Cpl Weller took a picture of us. And that's how our pictures are usually taken, with my arm around his shoulder while he stands with his arms crossed. I had a bad feeling that hugging him would be a one-way hug. But as with anything involving Schuster it always entails some gamble and risk, and at times, reward.
With open arms, I went ahead and gave him a hug. I gave that good old SAPI plate a friendly tap. Low and behold! Much to my surprise, Schuster actually hugged me back! That was truly unexpected. People never ceases to amaze me; Schuster in particular.
Going, Going, Not Gone
I went to work that morning 45 minutes early. It was a busy morning at the DSID, the LSWAN was being tested.
"Did you come to work early for the LSWAN test?" Cpl Weller asked.
"I wish I did. But no, not really," I replied honestly.
I doubt he detected the sadness in my voice beneath the smile. He didn't know that the advance party had just left with Schuster and Sgt Bui in it.
As Cpl Weller worked on the LSWAN test, I worked on this episode of the Chronicles of Sin. I could literally write a book about Schuster, and trying to compress everything into one little Episode seems like an insurmountable task. I couldn’t concentrate.
When Cpl Weller had finished with the LSWAN testing and left, I went to the chow hall. I don't usually walk to the chow hall for breakfast, as breakfast is my least favorite meal of the day. I personally don't like eating oily scrambled eggs, oily sausage, nasty bacon, and oily hash browns. But, I felt like being outside, and going to the chow hall provided the excuse.
Lunchtime was the same way. I couldn't wait for it to be lunchtime so I could get out of the DSID and be outside. I think I left the DSID at 11:20 or so, a little early perhaps. While in the chow hall, I saw Cpl Gonzales and Sgt Henderson and sat next to them. A few minutes later, I saw Sgt Bui.
"Sgt Bui!" I yelled and waved at him.
I was glad to see Sgt Bui, but even more at the thought that they hadn't left!
"Where's Schuster?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," he replied.
I looked around for Schuster throughout the entire time we were eating, to see if he'd show up, but he never did.
Sleepy Head
Schuster as it turned out was trying to call the DSID at around 11:30 or so to ask me to go to lunch. I may have missed his call by just a few minutes because I couldn't wait to get out of the DSID. So, not being able to get a hold of me, Schuster found himself a cozy spot in the conference room in the Company Office and slept instead of going to chow.
When we got done with chow I talked to Sgt Bui.
"Tell Schuster that I miss him already."
"I will," Sgt Bui replied while smiling.
Breaking Bread
Schuster came bursting through the DSID door a few hours later—literally. He likes doing that, kicking the door as he walks in the DSID as it makes for a grand entrance. He was all smiling and happy.
"Sin, where were you?" he asked.
"I was wondering the same thing. I saw Sgt Bui in the chow hall," I said.
"I tried calling you but you never picked up the phone. I even called the help desk and asked about you, but Sgt Amos was no big help."
"Where did he say I was?"
"He just said he couldn't see through walls."
I laughed.
"We can go to dinner tonight, Sin. It will be our last supper all over again."
"Sure," I said.
"What did you eat for [noon] chow?"
"Nothing. I was sleeping in the conference room."
"Ah, that's why Sgt Bui didn't know where you were."
"We'll break bread—"
Schuster started doing the whole Catholic mass thing about breaking bread. It was kind of funny actually. Schuster sometimes sings gospel songs when he's happy. He's a very religious lad. He sometimes gives me a hard time over it.
"You don't deserve to wear that cross, Sin."
"Why? I'm Catholic."
"Yeah, but it means nothing to you."
"My sister gave it to me before I left."
"But you don't believe in God."
"I don't believe in religion, I didn't say I don't believe in God. They're not one and the same."
"Yes, they are. What are you talking about?"
"Well, can't I wear it for sentimental value?"
"Do you go to church?"
"Rarely," I said.
"See, you're not Catholic."
"How often do you go to Church?"
"Once in a while."
"And that makes you that much better?"
"At least I pray," he said.
"I pray too, once in a blue moon."
Schuster and I went to the chow hall for dinner. That would actually be our last dinner together in the chow hall, although not our last dinner together.
Dinner with Sergeant Major Kennedy
Schuster and I were eating and joking like we normally do. And I noticed Sergeant Major Kennedy with a tray of food. He saw me and we made eye contact for a split second, then I looked away.
"Oh oh, the Sergeant Major is heading this way," I joked.
"Yeah, right," Schuster replied.
Well, I guess the joke was on me. Because 10 seconds later, SgtMaj Kennedy sat next to me.
Schuster switched to his "good boy" behavior and got all quiet. I put on a more mature attitude befitting to our new audience. Five minutes into the conversation, I was talking to him like he was my buddy.
As Schuster would later recall, I ended up counseling SgtMaj Kennedy on family and school. Twenty-seven years in the Marine Corps and he still has not gotten his degree. The man was begging to be counseled!
I ended up talking to SgtMaj Kennedy for a good 30 minutes. He told us some pretty good stories dating back to when he was just a PFC in 1979. I could have talked to SgtMaj for hours, but Schuster needed to get back to the Company Office. So, we shook hands and snapped a picture and off to the Company Office we went.
I walked with Schuster to the Company Office only to be told that their flight got canceled again. So, Schuster got to spend one more night in good old Al Asad, Iraq.
It's that Damn Cold Night
Schuster often acted and talked like he owned the whole Tin Can when he lived there, now he was just a guest in it. His Fortress of Solitude was no more. He didn't have a wall locker anymore. His bike which now sits atop of PFC Healey's rack, Schuster's old rack, now belonged to me. Nothing of his belonged in the room anymore, except for the hand-carry he brought back with him and the friends he made.
While his rack did not become an honorary rack like he wanted, he did become an honorary guess for one more night. I have often complained that our room was way too cold. Schuster likes to have both AC set to high and at the coldest possible temperature setting possible. That often leaves me freezing even when I have my sweat top and bottom on. But Schuster is Schuster: it's his way or no way.
One afternoon I tried to turn down one of the ACs while Schuster was asleep, or so I thought.
"Okay fucker, I heard that. Turn the AC back on," he yelled.
"It's so cold here, Schuster," I explained.
"I don't care. Put on more clothes."
"I already have my sweats on."
"Suck it up."
Suck it up is a favorite phrase of Schuster. If you are suffering because of Schuster, the only word of wisdom he'll tell you is to "suck it up." But, in his last night in Al Asad, he got a taste of his own medicine. Both ACs where turned up high and in the coldest possible temperature like he always wanted. He didn't sleep very well that night. He complained in the morning that it was cold.
"No shit, huh? I told you our room is always freaking cold," I rubbed it in.
"All I had was my poncho liner. I curved like a ball while I was sleeping. I was cold as hell," he replied.
"Why didn't you get up and turn off one of the ACs?"
"I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders.
"You should have cuddled with Sgt Bui," Cpl Gonzales teased.
Everyone laughed.
Last Morning in Al Asad
Just like the day before, he got ready to be in the Company Office at 0700. We said our goodbyes again, for the second time. Somehow, I didn't feel as sad as the day before. As we were walking around the TACC building, we parted. But before we did, he extended his hand to shake mine.
"Take care, Sin," he said.
"I'll write you an email. And be sure to reply to my email, crazy," I said.
"I will."
Just before I entered the TACC building, I looked back. He probably didn't notice, but I yelled out, "Bye, turd!" Sgt Bui turned around.
I laughed, as I was hoping it would be Schuster who would turn around, but he knew better so he didn't.
Our Last Supper
Schuster's flight got canceled again and so he wasn't due back in the Company Office until 1900 (7 p.m.). That meant, we had the whole day together. He spent most of it in the Internet Cafe, doing the things Schuster usually did (I'll leave it at that). I went to noon chow with him one last time. We had planned on going to the chow hall for our—once again—last supper, but due to the heat Schuster changed his mind. Instead, we eat TACC chow for our last supper.
Sgt Williams was scheduled to come in late, which turned out to be perfect. TACC chow came and Schuster and I ate at the DSID. It was probably the second time we had ever eaten in the DSID together, and it will be our last. Schuster went through my collection of pictures and videos in Adobe Albums. For whatever reason, in all the nearly 6 months I've been roommates with him, he's never shown any interest in my picture collection (25 GB of them!). But in his final hour, for some reason, he was—much to my surprise.
He was looking at my family pictures and watched as much videos of Vincent as he could find. He would laugh and make his remarks that were all so Schuster.
"This will be my new Asian generalization," he joked.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Asians and their digital cameras."
I laughed.
"Look at how many people at the dinner table have a camera?" he observed.
I counted four.
"That's crazy," he continued.
I laughed again.
"You should see us at Christmas, everyone has a digital camera," I told him.
The Final Goodbye
We turned in his visitor's badge to the same place we turned in his permanent badge the day before. Seeing Schuster with a visitor's badge was strange. He had worked in the TACC building for nearly as long as I have, but to the new Army guy who was logging him out the logbook, he was just another face. I took a picture of Schuster just before we left the TACC building, for the last time.
We waited around the Company Office for a little bit. But, at around 1900 everyone was instructed to load up to the 7-ton truck and to the bus. And, for the second time, Schuster extended his hand to shake mine and we bid each other farewell. Saying goodbye gets easier each time, but the feeling of loss stayed the same. I was thankful that we had a full extra day, but at the same time I knew Schuster wanted to get home as quickly as possible. We said our goodbyes, this time for the last time, and we parted.
As I walked back towards the TACC building and away from the Company Office, I looked back, took a deep breath, and said to myself "And so, the cycle of friendship starts all over again." The weather was perfect, so I knew his flight wouldn't be delayed this time.
A Prayer for Schuster
I rarely pray, I like to save them for things I have no control over, and Schuster's safe return home is one of them. So, I saved him a prayer. Before I went to sleep that night, I prayed for Schuster and his family. I prayed for his safe return home, and for his newly born child to remain healthy, and for him and his wife to have a good reunion. Then, I went to sleep and woke up to a new day with a new found realization that Schuster was gone.
Fate's Plan
Nearly six months of living with Schuster through all the pain and joy he brought me had culminated to a handshake, a hug, and a wave of goodbye. The last time I felt the same deep sadness was when Smith and Mummey left Al Asad. But with Schuster it was more, because I actually lived and worked with him. Just as I was beginning to understand him, and actually started liking him, it was time for him to leave—fate it would seem had other plans for the two of us.
And so, once more, I'll leave it to fate to decide if and when we will see each other again. And if by chance we meet again know that we are beyond roommates, gym buddies or co-workers. We are what we should have been from the very beginning: friends.
May God speed your safe return home, Schuster.
—LCpl Sincioco
United States Marine Corps,
8th Comm BN, Support Co., Data Platoon
"Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget."
—G. Randolf
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