“He carried his whole life around his neck. Two Identification nameplates, one from a long chain the other from a short, and a worn silver cross the Army had issued swung loosely from side to side.  It was a chain that shared all the dirt and sweat of the field, had stood in every formation, and been in every fox-hole and roll-over grave he ever dug. He had tried to keep them all together. Country and God. The myth of the soldier. The reality of man. It was a heavier weight than he had imagined.

            “When he first arrived in country he never took them off. He even kept them on when he went down range. Most guys like to flaunt there military status back home, trying to get a fresh piece with the help of their dog tags. They would leave their shirts open just enough to see the metal beads and plates. In the summer they would walk around their neighborhoods bare-chested so that all could see. As for Villono, he never took leave and hasn’t been home since he graduated Basic Training. Since he joined the Army there and here are the only two places he has eve been. Speaking honestly, I think that V used to wear them simply because he liked being a soldier.

             “But that changed.”

             “Later on when the reality met the myth, after he met Private Geryon he began spending more time down range. He still kept his tags with him but not around his neck; he strapped them to his belt loop and tucked away in his pocket. Then he met Mei-Dea, his girlfriend, and then I doubt he even cared about them at all.

            “I remember standing in formation once in the field when First Sergeant caught him without them.”

            Steebe paused and thought to himself. In-rank inspections during a field problem were mythical, something that almost never happened. The Chain-of-Command only conducted them when they wanted to catch short-timers slacking. Besides that, new boots always wore them, as though there was pussy waiting for them out here in the mountains and wood.

            “I was standing behind Villono and was positive that First Sergeant wouldn’t even bother with him. As I said, Villono always had them. But First Sergeant must have smelled it on him, that lack of something. When they faced each other both of them just knew. Villono was already gone. No ID. No tags. No cross. Nothing at all. He couldn’t even remember his General Orders. The only thing he did have was a picture of Mei that he kept in his Kevlar. He was dirty and beaten down with a photo that looked like he had just got it fresh from Hodeshi.

            “‘Goddamn Private,’ was all that First Sergeant said before going on to the next man.”

             “I was shocked. That soldier who I had known from our first days in-country had changed. He could still mount a .50 cal or MARK 19 faster than anyone. Still had the quickest hands when loading his gun.  But all that was mechanical. He could’ve been a better soldier in his sleep than most anyone awake. Even I couldn’t Number One like him.

            “But, Sir, I think it’s worth saying that this is a soldier who we can learn from. I don’t know if he is fit to stay in this Army or not. I’m not sure what it was that changed him. Maybe it was love or maybe loneliness that drove him away. He called it love, but Villono didn’t know the difference. We shouldn’t forget that he watched one of his closest friends get beat to death right in front of him. That could change anybody.  One thing I know for sure is that he was a good soldier once. Maybe he still is. I think that once he was just good in general. And now he’s not. Not at life. Not at anything.”

            “Tell me more,” said the Colonel.