Nobody

New Spots

Fort Hood had grown, almost three divisions worth the troops were based on the massive military base. Then there were the businesses that grew up to take advantage of the fact that there were thousands of young privates with no brains and plenty of money in their pockets as well as the businesses that supported the family's of the soldiers.

The Killeen court house was busy. Lots  of people who had run afoul of the police. More than a few of the charges were trumped up. As I sat there and watched the judge yelled at the Killeen police department more than once for trying to balance their budget on the backs of the troops stationed at Fort Hood.

Finally they called my name. The judge looked at the paperwork in front of him. I'd gone by JAG and convinced them to do the paperwork.

"You realize that this won't stop creditors or help you avoid any legal proceedings, sir?" He asked me.

"Yes, sir," I told him.

"Reason for the name change?" The judge asked.

"Companies and businesses mistake me for a rich rancher. I'd received bills and credit cards meant for him and have been accused several times of attempting identity theft. The Department of Veteran's Affairs confuses us at times. I can't exactly ask a wealthy rancher to change his name, so I'm changing mine," I told him. "I need to do it legally so I can get my VA benefits and financial affairs put in the new name."

The judge nodded. "Understandable," he scrawled his name on the bottom. "Name change granted," he looked up at me. "Good luck, Mister Samuel English."

I nodded. "Thank you, your honor."

I gathered up the paperwork and went out into the lobby. It took nearly a half hour to get called to the window to pick up my identity paperwork.

After that I drove onto Fort Hood.

God, it hurt.

All the soldiers at the ID card issue looked so young. Part of me wondered if I'd ever looked that young. The ID card, a blue military ID with an expiration date of 2028, was warm in my hand when the young female soldier handed it to me. When she'd looked at my record to change my name her eyes had widened when she'd looked at the awards section. I smiled at her, wished her a good weekend, and left.

From there I drove to the PX. It was a big building and looked pretty much the same as the last time I'd been there, when I'd bought Heather a car seat during her baby shower.

It took about two hours for me to find and buy everything I needed. I had promised myself that I'd stop using the family credit card, but I used it again.

Two pair of desert combat boots, three changes of clothing, more underwear, one of the big bed width locking diamond plate steel tool boxes, a tool kit, a toiletries bag made of leather, another pair of suitcases that I put back and replaced with a pair of dufflebags, a cheap Timex watch, and a small gold necklace with a cross on it.

Standing in line to pay for it all I wondered what I was doing. I had bought an old BDU cap at a surplus store while waiting for the open court, now I was buying dufflebags to throw my clothing in. I'd bought blankets, a sleeping bag, another pillow, like I was going on a camping trip.

Why did I feel better?

When I finished paying for it I walked to the truck and took the time to  mount the toolbox up against the cab. I unlocked it and started packing everything into it except for the suitcase I put behind the bench seat. I had just finished, sitting on the side of the bed smoking a cigarette in the dark when I saw something startling.

A Command Sergeant Major in full dress uniform walking toward the PX.

"Sergeant Major," I called out, jumping down.