PTSD… Episode 7.
- Drake*
Unpublished Works, © 2026, BillyPauleyJr.*
EPISODE 7.
“This is bullshit!” I heard the first sergeant’s Sergeant Gold’s, voice thru’ the commander’s closed door as I walked into the command section. He continued, “That son of bitch!” The door opened partially, “I’ll ask, but it’s bullshit.” He looked like he was going to collapse from the site of me. He held up his finger with his head down. “Give me a minute, will ya?”
“Sure, take your time. I’ve got the QA report for you. I can come back later.”
“No, please just one minute… please.” He looked ill as he slid into his office and closed the door.
“Wow,” I tho’t, “bad timing.” Still, I stood by as requested.
Corey Craven, another sergeant, rushes in past me, knocks once and enters the first sergeant’s office. “Sit,” I hear Sergeant Gold’s stern voice. His door shuts. Loud, but muffled voices in heated discussion engage. Above the mostly ambiguous conversation I keep hearing Sergeant Gold’s reiterations “No! No! No!” Turning quickly into silence.
Slowly the door opens. Sergeant Gold waving me in. I enter, prepared with my Quality Assurance (QA) notes, but feeling much like this was something else. Sergeant Gold stands, motions his hand towards the two chairs in front of him, “Have a seat gentlemen.” Suddenly the angered event, whatever had Sergeant Gold so steamed, felt like it was about to include me.
My intuition did not disappoint. With a fully disgusted look on his face, Sergeant Gold started, “Billy, Corey has something to tell you.”
Looking to my right at Corey, his head goes down with a heavy sigh. “Pick your head up, look him in the eye,” came Sergeant Gold’s direction to Corey.
“Yes sir,” Corey was stammering, nervous as hell for some reason. “Billy, I…” he started.
Sergeant Gold slammed his hand on his desk, “You will address him as Sergeant Pauley!”
“Yes sir. Sergeant Pauley…” long pause.
Sergeant Gold sat on his desk, put his hand up towards Corey and spoke calmly to me. “Craven here was tasked this morning with a deployment in June.”
“O’,” I replied, “where are you going?” I directed my question towards Corey thinking maybe this was simply a deployment I could help Corey prepare for in the coming days. After all, I’d just finished 7 months in Baghdad in April.
“I’m not.”
Puzzled, I look at Sergeant Gold. “He’s not… you heard him right.” Rubbing his face in frustration, Sergeant Gold stood, walked around his desk to his chair and sat. “Get out, Craven.”
“Yes sir,” making his way past me he muttered, “l’m so sorry, Sergeant Pauley.”
“Out!” Came Sergeant Gold’s raised voice. Corey left, door shut.
“Is he ok?” I asked, “I could help him get ready. “
“Hmmph!”
Something more was lingering in the air. “Am I missing something?”
“We got a tasking… for Baghdad.”
My mind racing back to the war zone momentarily. I avoided the memory with conversation. “Wow, so soon? This would mean we are replacing, Eric, the guy who replaced me.”
“Yep… I called headquarters, they said it’s all part of the reset all taskings took after everyone got stuck on your deployment.
“Yes sir, but Baghdad?”
“My question too. They said that technically we didn’t have a tasking to Baghdad ‘cos you took Andrea’s tasking to Masirah Island and then…”
“…forward deployed to Saudi, Egypt, then Baghdad… not a hard tasking…” rolling my eyes, “but they know I just went!”
“Yep.”
“What a… but they’re fixing it? That’s why Corey’s not going… right?” Somehow I felt this logic was not met by the intensity of this morning’s meetings.
“No, they’re not fixing it. Corey is refusing to go.”
“What?”
“I know… fucking coward.”
“So, what happens?”
“We only have one person left that’s qualified to go.”
Thinking of the folks who might be qualified, knowing the position well, I asked “Who?”
Long pause… Sergeant Gold leans across the desk, “You don’t have to accept.” He pauses to let it sink in.
“Me?”
“Yes, I feel bad even asking, but I don’t blame you if you turn it down.”
I just stare into the abyss of my fears daring me to hide. “I’m not turning it down.”
“Not? Billy, you just got back. Corey has never been tasked. We are separating his ass instead… his choice. But you… nothing will happen to you if you turn it down. I just need you to officially turn it down.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Nobody could blame you, I’d turn it down if I were you… I just can’t do it for you. Come on, Billy, sign the refusal and let’s call it a day. I’m sorry the cowardly bastard even made you go thru’ this. No harm,” he pushed the paper towards me, “no problem… just sign here.”
“I’ll go.”
“You don’t have to… really.”
“I’ll go.”
“Nothing happens to you if you refuse.”
I just sat there thinking,, “no one gets it…” I left.
News got out quickly. Everyone ran to give me their advice. Most encouraging me to refuse the tasking, a few feigning admiration for my bravery. I was fading in and out of Baghdad; the death and destruction.
Corey knocks at my open door, “permission to come aboard, Captain?” He was smiling. I was not. I wasn’t angry with him, I just didn’t appreciate his fake military humor in my real military office.
“What’s up Corey?”
His demeanor sharply changing to serious. “Well, Bil… sorry, Sergeant Pauley…”
“Corey, I interrupted. I’m Billy. We are the same rank, don’t worry about Sergeant Gold… unless he’s around.”
“Yeah, he got me for sure,” laughing, more at ease. He sat and began, “I heard you took the tasking. I just want you to know that I had no idea my decision would take you out.”
“Who did you think it would take out?” Getting angry, but maintaining.
He looked puzzled, “No, I didn’t think of anyone. I just never tho’t they’d make you go.”
“They?” My mind was all over the place with “They… who? The unit, headquarters, the Air Force, Central Command? The enemy?”
“The commander… Gold… I mean why?”
“It’s our turn.”
“Yeah, but why you?” I did not answer as Corey stood, body language insisting on an answer that would suit him. There wasn’t one. Feeling guilty he blurted, “I have a family, Billy. I mean… I know you do too; we all do. But… my… me. It’s me… Billy I just can’t do it.”
Long pause as my Baghdad noise grew in my head.
“You… you know?”
“Got it, Corey.”
“I’m truly sorry.”
“No need.”
“But I feel bad.”
“Don’t.”
“Do you hate me?”
I stared at him. “Not yet.” I was growing agitated with his ongoing groveling. I think he finally sensed it.
Smiling and waving as he left, “Got ya.”
“Fuck you.”
Later, in the commander’s office with Sergeant Gold. “Billy, I don’t know why you’re doing this…”
“It’s not about what I’m doing, it’s about what I’m not doing.”
“Which is?”
“Not refusing, not thinking of only myself. Most importantly, not putting someone else on the line.”
“Ah, because if you don’t go…”
“Somebody will… right. The tasking doesn’t go away it just moves on to be filled by someone else. I don’t believe I have that right. Not if I’m capable.”
The following week I was on my way, on board the C130 Hercules aircraft. Landing on the US military air strip, Baghdad. BOOM! BOOM!. A mortar just missing our aircraft hit a fuel cell causing a massive explosion. So much chaos; people screaming and crying. I just sat quietly waiting… returning inwardly and outwardly to war.
“This is bullshit!”
-Drake*
PTSD …is a Smokey the Toad™ production.
Please find me here Sundays for more PTSD episodes… be safe!