It was the afternoon of Halloween. The sun descended slowly into the horizon, which glowed eerily with a medley of vivid autumn hues against the darkening evening sky. The atmosphere was perfect to welcome the enchantment of fun things to come.
Excited children in various costumes were getting ready to roam the neighborhood for their sweet treats. I couldn't let the expected onslaught of kids on their door-to-door hunt catch me off guard. I had some candy, but I knew I needed to buy more to be on the safe side. I still had time to go to the Post Exchange to buy more before the store closed. But first, I had to go to the ATM on the post to get more cash to buy what I needed.
After arriving on post, I parked and walked to the ATM. As I approached, I saw a young man—about twenty—standing in front of the machine. It amused me to watch him frantically punching the keys like he was racing to meet a newspaper deadline.
He had a short buzz haircut and deeply tanned skin, all the signs of an American soldier, probably just returning from a deployment in the Middle East.
I watched him get upset as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other because the ATM wasn't working fast enough for him. As if his actions would speed up the process, he pounded the front of the ATM with one of his fists as it hummed and beeped to process his transaction. When he took a break from his drama with the machine, he turned around to me and smiled, "So how's your Halloween been so far?"
My first instinct was not to respond. I didn’t know him. I actually turned around to see who he was talking to—only to realize I was the only other person in line. Amused, I answered politely, “Oh, quiet so far.”
Apparently satisfied, he turned back to the ATM and resumed pushing buttons and hovering impatiently over it. When the machine finally spit out a receipt, he grabbed it, scanned it, and whooped, "Yes! I got paid!"
Grinning, I remembered my early days in the Army when I was overjoyed to receive my first paycheck. After tapping more keys, he turned back to me again and said, "I gotta catch a train in about 20 minutes. My taxi is waiting for me over there to take me to my girl's place so we can go party."
I laughed and nodded, pleasantly baffled at his uninhibited ease and willingness to share his plans with me, a complete stranger. Then he pointed to his waist and playfully scolded himself, "And look at this! No belt! I left it back at the barracks. I don't usually dress like this, but I was in such a hurry. Don't think I'll have time to go back to get it, though."
Still surprised that this friendly young soldier was willing to share more of his information with me, I acknowledged him with another smile. I didn't know what else to do.
He turned his attention back to the ATM and waited impatiently as it hummed and prepared to dispense his money through the slot. When his cash appeared, he grabbed it as if the ATM might snatch it back. After counting his loot, he took out his wallet and stuffed his money inside. Hastily, he jammed his wallet into his back pocket.
Watching his interaction with the ATM, I wondered what his job was in the military. With his unusual restlessness, impatience, and pent-up energy, I didn't think he would have been an ordnance soldier.
He paused and looked off into the distance. For a moment, he seemed to be somewhere else. Then, just as quickly, he snapped back to share another personal tidbit with me: "I just got back from Iraq, but everything here is so haywire." He shrugged as if that explained everything. Then, he bid me goodbye, "You have a good evening, ma'am."
“You have a good evening, ma’am.”
“You too, young man,” I replied. “You too.”
As he walked away, I shook my head. Germany—haywire. I thought about where he’d just come from, and I was simply grateful he’d made it back at all.