Fred Alvis

ALL ABOUT JODY

The helicopter crewman held a crumpled letter, one reluctant tear slowly running down his face, splashing on the floorboard. The letter spoke of Jody. As the bird lifted, he inserted the .30 cal belt into his machine gun.

The raindrop fell, dancing its way through the forest leaves, until landing on the Beech stock of a sniper SKS. She sighted down the barrel, ignoring the rain. The sights were set on the pilots head. In her own way, he too was going to be a Jody. She thought of the helicopter as a bear… the gunners were the claws, strong and deadly accurate. The pilot was the brain. Get him and don’t have to worry about the gunners.

A drop of blood, dancing its way down an arm, splashed against the inside of the chin bubble. One more letter to be written – one promotion for the sniper.

Tear drops, rain drops, blood drops: all sisters in what we call life. Pain, gentle smiles, warm hugs: sisters to motherhood. Loneliness, contentedness, peace: sisters of the soul. Tears, blood, and rain is part of life, as is loneliness and pain. Yet a child’s laughter, a mother’s gentle smile, a good friend, is like sunshine. Let’s go kick Jody’s ass.