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| The Vision |
No matter what the base is now called, I have a dreadful memory, a poignant reminder, of that place. It's dreadful, I suppose, because of a vision. It was a vision that I cannot unsee. It is a vision that haunts me.
In 1991, I was (as I still am) a civilian employed by the US Army Corps Of Engineers. In the summer of that year, I and a dozen colleagues were assigned to a company of soldiers. They were an engineer battalion, and to this day I cannot remember the battalion's name. I suppose it doesn't matter.
We were housed in barracks that were old and otherwise unoccupied. The building would have been empty if we weren't there. It was only used when there was a need for it. As I understand it, the building was on a list of structures scheduled to be demolished.
Two days into our work, I arose earlier than usual. I got myself a cup of coffee and stepped out onto the balcony. The building next to us was identical to ours. Drab. Brown bricks. The only thing different, I was about to discover, was that the neighboring building seemed to house female civilian employees and soldiers.
As I stepped onto the balcony I observed that it was a misty morning and I saw a woman standing on the balcony of the barracks that was beside us. She was holding, like me, a cup of coffee. She seemed to be a soldier, though she was dressed in an unusual uniform.
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