Chapter 13 Chapter Twelve

Hours later, on my first lonely night back in Germany, I reread the letter and relived our time together.Memories are easy, but they have begun to haunt me, sometimes even more real than my military career.I can still feel my hand holding Savannah's hand, and I can still see her shaking her head to shake the sea water from her hair.Thinking of my surprise when she succeeded in surfing for the first time, I couldn't help laughing out loud.My time with Savannah has changed me, and the brothers on the team have clearly noticed the change in me.For the next few weeks, my old friend Tony kept teasing me, complacently thinking that his theory of "the importance of a close friend" had been proved to be very correct.It was my fault for telling him about Savannah, Tony wanted to know more than I wanted to say.One day while reading a book, he sat across from me, grinning like an idiot, and said, "Tell me about your wild holiday love song again." I forced myself to stare at the book, trying to ignore him.

"Savannah, huh? Hey, that's a great name. It just sounds so... classy. But I bet this chick is a little wildcat in bed, huh?" "Shut up, Tony. ""Don't do this with me. Didn't I always pay attention to you? Didn't I tell you to go out for a walk? Look! Listen to me earlier, it's time for you to repay me! Come on, Tell me every detail." "None of your business." "Drinking tequila? Just telling you it's going to work." I didn't say anything.Tony waved his hands: "Come on, at least you can tell me this, right?" "I don't want to talk about it." "Because you're in love? Yeah, you said that. But now it feels like everything You made it up." "Yes, I made it up. Can we change the subject?" Tony shook his head and got up from his chair. "I think you're hopelessly lovesick." I didn't say anything.But when Tony walked away, I knew he was right.I was, indeed, hopelessly infatuated with Savannah.In order to be with her, I would do anything, even apply to be transferred back to the United States.My seasoned and experienced commander seemed willing to think twice, because when he asked me why, I said it was my dad, not Savannah.After listening to me, he leaned back in his chair and said, "Unless your father's health is in trouble, the chances are slim." Walking out of the commander's office, I knew that I would not be able to go anywhere for at least half a year.I didn't hide my disappointment either.When the moon was full next month, I walked out of the barracks and walked to the football field in the camp. I lay on the ground and looked at the full moon in the sky. I thought about the past memories and hated myself for being thousands of miles away from home.

Savannah and I often called and wrote letters, and of course emailed, but I soon learned that Savannah preferred correspondence and wanted me to do the same. "I know writing a letter isn't as fast as an email, but I just love that," she wrote, "I love the surprise of finding a letter in the mailbox, and the anxious anticipation of waiting to open it. I also like to carry the letter with me, so I can find time to read it calmly. I like to sit under a tree, feel the breeze blowing on my face, and read the words and sentences you wrote on the letter. I like to imagine the way you write the letter, thinking The clothes you're wearing, the surroundings, the way you hold your pen. I know it sounds corny, maybe even unrealistic, but I always picture you in a tent, sitting on a makeshift I woke up to write letters at a desk with an oil lamp on, and the wind was blowing outside. Rather than reading your messages on a machine that downloads music and finds data, reading real letters is much more romantic." This idea made me Laughed.After all, Savannah has too much imagination for the situation around me. There are no tents or oil lamps here.But I have to admit, that scene is more interesting than the fluorescent lamps and government group buying desks in my wooden barracks.

As the days passed, my love for Savannah seemed to grow undiminished.Sometimes I avoid my brothers and find time to be alone.Always with a photo of Savannah, take a closer look at her every facial features.Strange to say, I love her so much and always remember our time together, but as summer turns to fall and winter turns, I become more and more grateful for her to send me this photo.Yeah, I tell myself I'll stick to her face, but it's clear that I'm starting to forget some of her features.Or, I never found those details.For example, in the photo, I noticed that Savannah had a small mole under her left eye, which I never noticed.Also, if you look closely, Savannah's smile is a little crooked, but to me, these small flaws just make her look more perfect.However, I also hate myself for discovering these details from photos.

I figured out a way to go about my life as usual.Though I think about Savannah a lot, and miss her a lot, I still have work to do.Beginning in September, for some reasons that the superiors could not explain well, my team was sent to Kosov to join the 1st Armored Division to perform peacekeeping missions.Most of the regiment returned to Germany.Although this mission was relatively peaceful, I didn't even fire a single bullet, but I wasn't free enough to pick flowers on the side of the road, or think about Savannah every day.Every day is to clean the gun, always be vigilant and pay attention to the madmen who may suddenly appear around you.If you stay alert for such a long time every day, you will be exhausted at night.To be honest, I probably didn't think about what Savannah might be doing for two or three nights, or even think about her at all.Is my love not true enough?I have asked myself dozens of times during the mission, but the answer is always negative.The reason is simple. From time to time, the image of Savannah strikes me when I least expect it, and my heart-wrenching reaction is the same as the day I left.In fact, anything can be a trigger: friends talking about their wives, seeing couples holding hands, even the smiles on the faces of some villagers when they see us pass by may remind me of Savannah.

Savannah's letter came about every ten days, and when I finally got back to Germany, I had already accumulated a lot.Most of these letters were gossip; not like the one I read on the plane.Savannah always saves her true feelings for last.These letters also let me know the big and small events that happened in her life. For example, the progress of the first house was a little behind, which made it harder to build the second one. Even though everyone was familiar with the work at hand, they still had to work long hours.The letter also said that after the completion of the first house, the working group held a grand party and invited all the neighbors to attend. Everyone said that Shrimp Shack is the restaurant with the best atmosphere he has ever been to.Savannah also told me that the results of the course selection for next semester will be released. She is very happy that most of the courses she wants to take have been selected, and she is also looking forward to Dr. Barnes's course on adolescent psychology; An academic journal has just published an important paper, etc.I know Savannah is thinking of me when she's hammering a nail or putting in a window, and when she's talking to Tim, she's hoping it's actually me.I like to tell myself that our shared bond is deeper than that, and over time, this belief has made my love stronger.

Of course, I have to wonder if Savannah still cares about me, and she never disappoints me in that regard.I guess that's why I save every letter.At the end of every letter, there are always those few sentences, or a whole paragraph, which make me stop to think and make me remember deeply.I also found myself rereading the passages, imagining Savannah's voice speaking the sentences.Like this one, on the second letter I got: When I think about you and me, and all that we have in common, it might be easy for someone else to say it's a by-product of a beach vacation, yes A typical summer love song, it will disappear after a long time.So I don't mention it to anyone, they won't understand, and I don't want to explain too much.Because I know in my heart how real this feeling is.When I think of you, I can't help but smile, knowing that you, in some way, complete me.I love you, not only now, but forever.I also dream of the day when you can hold me in your arms.

Or this, after I send her a photo of me: Finally, I want to thank you for this photo, which I have put in my wallet.You look happy and healthy in the picture, but I have to admit that I cried when I saw it, not only because the picture made me sad, after all, it means that I can't meet the real you, but I am also very happy, because this Make me think, you are the best part of my life. And this, from my time in Kosov: I must say that your last letter worried me a lot.I want and must know what happened.But every time I hear you talk about the realities of life, I find myself holding my breath and worrying about you.Here I am, getting ready to go home for Thanksgiving, worrying about my finals, but you're somewhere dangerous, surrounded by people who want to hurt you.I wish these people knew you as well as I do, then you'd be safe.Like how I feel in your arms.

Christmas was pretty miserable that year, but being away from home for the holidays is a miserable thing.This isn't the first Christmas I haven't been home since I was in the military.I spent every vacation in Germany, and a few brothers in the barracks made a hasty Christmas tree for the occasion, wrapped it with a green tarpaulin on a stick, and hung it with light bulbs.Most of the brethren went home, and I was one of the few unlucky ones who had to stay on base lest our old Russian friends suddenly remember that we were still flesh and blood.Most of the people who stayed on the base went to town in droves to celebrate Christmas Eve by drinking good German beer.In front of me is a package from Savannah, which includes a sweater that looks like Tim might be wearing it, and a package of homemade cookies.I know Savannah has received the perfume I sent her.But I'm still here alone, and my gift to myself is to call Savannah, who didn't expect me to, and pay a fortune to call; weeks later, I'm still reminiscing about the excited voice on Savannah's phone .That speech lasted for more than an hour, and I missed her voice very much, and almost forgot her brisk tone when she spoke, and her unconscious nasal voice when she spoke faster and faster.I leaned back in my chair and imagined the two of us together, listening to Savannah describe the snow outside.At the same time, I found that it was snowing outside the window, and I suddenly felt that the two of us seemed to be really together at that moment.

In January 2001, I had already started the countdown to the days when I would go home from vacation and meet Savannah.The summer vacation is in June, and it has been less than a year since the last vacation.When I get up in the morning, I will tell myself that there are still three hundred and sixty days, three hundred and fifty-nine days, and fifty-eight days before I can be discharged; there are one hundred and seventy-eight, seventy-seven, and seventy-six days before I can see you To Savannah...it feels very real and makes me dream of a future back in North Carolina.But on the other hand, time seems to slow down in the process of counting steamed buns.Isn't this the feeling of wanting something?Reminds me of when I was a kid, waiting for the summer holidays to feel like the days were getting longer.If there is no letter from Savannah, I think it will only be more difficult.

Dad also writes to me, but not as often as Savannah, Dad has his own frequency of once a month.But what surprised me was the length of the letter. Now there are two or three times more letters than before, and the extra pages are all about coins.When I have free time, I will go to the computer center to search the Internet for information on specific coins, understand the historical background, and then record them in the letter.I swear, the first time I did this, I saw trails of tears on Dad's reply letter.Well, let's put it this way, I know that's just my imagination, because Dad never mentioned what I did, but I'd rather believe that he read these messages as seriously as he read The Gray Pages. Then in February, I joined other NATO troops in military exercises, the "pretend you're in 1944" kind of maneuvers, with tank convoys attacking the German countryside.If you ask me, I don't think it makes any sense.That kind of warfare is long gone, as is the case with Spanish fleets firing their cannons or the American cavalry rushing in to help.Now the superior does not mention who should be the imaginary enemy at all, but we all know that it is the Russians, which is even more absurd. After all, Russia should be an ally now, not an enemy.Even if this is not the case, the number of tanks in Russia is not as large as before. Even if they really have to manufacture tanks in an arsenal somewhere in Siberia, the tactics against tanks now should be air strikes, or armored mechanics of infantry regiments. Not infantry anymore.But what do I know?Right?Moreover, the weather for this exercise was terrible. At the beginning of the exercise, there was a strong cold front coming down from the polar circle. It was so cold that it broke records. There was snow, freezing rain, and hail, and the wind speed was nearly 90 kilometers. Reminds me of the tragedy of Napoleon's army retreating from Moscow.It was so cold that my brows frosted, my breathing hurt, and my fingers stuck to the barrel if I wasn't careful.Once my fingers were frozen on the barrel, it was painful to pull them out, and I lost several pieces of skin on my fingertips.But then I learned how to behave. When marching on frozen mud, I always cover my face and try to keep my hands on the butt of the gun, trying not to freeze into a statue while pretending to fight the enemy. This went on for ten days.Half of the brothers in the team were frostbitten and the other half suffered from hypothermia.When the exercise was over and I returned to the base, there were only three or four people left in my team, and the rest were all sent to the hospital, including me.This whole exercise was probably the most ridiculous and stupid thing I've ever done in the military.That's pretty remarkable, after all the stupid things I've done for Uncle Sam and the 1st Infantry Division.Later, the commander personally went to each ward and praised everyone for successfully completing the task.I really want to tell him that it should be more meaningful to learn modern strategic techniques, or at least remember to check the weather before the exercise.But in the end I just made a military salute in response to his compliment. For the next few months, I was on base doing nothing.Of course there are weapon or navigator classes here and there, and sometimes I'll go into town for a beer with the guys, but mostly I spend my time lifting weights, running, or smacking Tony in the ring. After the drill disaster, spring in Germany was not as bad as I thought it would be, the snow melted and the flowers started to bloom and the weather warmed up.Sure, it's not really that warm, but it's always above freezing, which is enough for us all to put on our shorts and play Frisbee or softball outside.When June finally arrived, I found myself anxiously waiting to get back to North Carolina.At this time, Savannah had graduated and was preparing for a master's degree in the summer, so I planned to go to Church Hill, so that we could have two wonderful weeks together; I went back to Wilmington to see my father, and Savannah also Plan to go with me.I found myself nervous, excited, and a little scared. Yes, we often communicate and talk on the phone; yes, on the night of the first full moon, I really went out to see the full moon, and Savannah told me in the letter that she did the same.But it's been nearly a year since we last met, and I really don't know how she will react when we finally face each other.The moment you got off the plane, you rushed over and hugged me?Or more reserved and just kiss me on the cheek?Will we ease into the conversation, or chat awkwardly about the weather?I don't know, I lie in bed at night and imagine a thousand different images. Tony knew how I was feeling, but he also knew it was best not to make a big deal out of it.One day when I was about to go on vacation, he came over and patted me. "Meet her soon, are you ready?" "Probably." He smiled wryly. "Don't forget to grab a few bottles of tequila on the way home." I made a face and Tony laughed. "Take it easy, it's going to be all right. Dude, this chick loves you. For the sake of how much you love her, she can't do without you."