A Letter from the Front
The troops are bedding down for the night. Two sit by a small fire using their kit spoons to surgically remove the last drops of juice from their tins of pork and beans. A few others quietly read letters from home by flashlight. One not so fortunate soldier stands above us with rifle at the ready. He drew midnight sentry duty. Imagination's foes inhabit the fields to the north, across the heavily barb wired No Man's Land. My bed roll waits while I finish this letter.
Tonight we proudly serve with Cedar Ridge Elementary's first and second platoons. These young soldiers, mostly 5th grade with a few 6th, are wildly enthusiastic to wear the Federation's colors. So enthusiastic, I was just notified by Lt. Jon Parker that I may need to visit the barracks and put the fear of a very tired instructor who has been at work since 7:00 A.M. this morning and desperate for a few hours of shut eye into them.
"Let's wait until lights out and see how they do," Lt. Jon said.
It's 12:01 A.M. Lights have been out for awhile. No word from Jon. Perhaps these young ones are cooperating. I hope so. They don't know what awaits them tomorrow. Shortly after dawn they will face an ensemble of some of the Universe's greatest villains, Masters of Disaster all.
We've had a busy week here in the trenches. Big classes filled our field trip slots. Add to the mix a slew of after school missions, a full Overnight Camp and a fully booked Saturday and you have a tired staff and ships in need of some rest. At least I won't have to do the 6:00 A.M. Walmart donut run. This is Mr. Daymont's weekend for that.
The only thing left to do is place a wager. I'm betting I'll be woken up by two boys tonight. Homesickness is commonly seen in our new 5th grade campers. Over all I'm able to convice half of those stricken to stay and show Mom and Dad they are big boys. The other half go home. Nearly all return in the morning.
That being said, I'll end this letter, shut down the computer and see what dreams may come.