Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Serve.

The Other Side of War
I slid behind one of numerous boulders, clutching the body of my M-16 as bullets bombard my barricade. The Lieutenant crouches a few yards away behind his own rocky fortifications, but we’re all that’s left. I think. I don’t know. It’s hard to know anything when you’re caught in the middle of an ambush.
By Melissa Carey5 years ago in Serve
Blinking Red
Light from the battle tracker’s screen sneaked past his fingers as he nervously rubbed his face. Major Charles Leighton silently chastised himself for his open display of anxiety and glanced around the dimly lit operations center. Thankfully, none of the other operations staff seemed to have noticed his agitation. Leighton sighed inwardly, took a quiet sip of the motor oil that was served for coffee here and tried to focus on his screen.
By Robert Ervin5 years ago in Serve
The first year anniversary of retirement
In less than a week it is my year anniversary of my retirement. I went through the up’s and down’s of becoming a civilian. I was angry. I was humbled. I was lost. I was thrilled on the amount of time that I had on my hands. I was BORED! No one told me about the boredom. I knew that I would have time. Time to cook, to clean, to do chores, to hang out with the family, to watch shows on the T.V. I could be anything that I wanted to be. Be all that you can be….in the civilian world.
By Rose Loren Geer-Robbins5 years ago in Serve
Harmony Church
Vietnam 1968 The heat was heavy and wet, stifling, and persistent. A 23-year-old from Oklahoma walked point. Members from his squad called him Okie or Indian. He was somewhere between a quarter and a half Chickasaw, his skinned deeply tanned by an unremitting tropical sun. Six months in the bush had sculptured his physique down to the bare necessities. His dark arms were lithe and defined and always glistening with a mixed sheen of sweat and moisture. Rain came sporadically, in impulsive erratic deluges, much like the enemy that he was drafted to kill. The politicians that drafted him had the luxury of negotiating from a distance. Dressed in suits and ties, the only thing they were going to kill was time. In Vietnam it was different. There was no negotiating. It was a zero-sum game and he had learned quickly to kill or be killed. It was that simple.
By Gregory 5 years ago in Serve
Look Away
Neck deep in the grave, Sam Watkins paused at the clatter of an approaching supply wagon. Covered with sweat and caked with red Tennessee soil, he had dug without a break for most of the late August morning. He leaned the spade in a corner of the rectangular hole and scratched his dark beard, listening to the sounds of the world above. He wanted a chew from his knapsack, but decided he couldn't afford the moisture it took to spit.
By Steven Thomas Howell5 years ago in Serve
Fortuitous serendipity
Introduction My most important possession is a little black notebook my wife got me for my birthday. Yet in order to explain why it's so important you first have to know a few things about me. My name is Marcus Stones, I am a 30-year-old veteran who just found out he has ADHD. Although I've never been formally diagnosed, with the benefit of hindsight I now realize how it's been a defining part of my life. As a child I thought I was simply prone to procrastination, You see, I grew up poor and black in the American south. My entire life I've struggled with depression and anxiety. My father was never in the picture and I learned early that bringing such issues to my mom would simply result in her attempting to pray my struggles away. I have nothing against prayer but praying never helped my brain learn to function in a world not built for me. I can often be quite forgetful and thus keeping a list of goals, tasks and general thoughts can be so crucial to my everyday life.
By Martin Stones5 years ago in Serve
Book Review - The Paris Library by Janet Charles
Namo Namaha friends. In this post, I'll be reviewing The Paris Library by Janet Skeslien Charles. This is a World War II historical fiction novel about a group of people doing their best to keep a library alive despite the entire world around them falling apart!
By RRK Reads5 years ago in Serve
My Rude Awakening
I was not always a good kid. In fact, I was very bad when I was young. I started my military service at the age of sixteen. Yes, most kids who served in the Army were eighteen, but there were a lot of kids who were sixteen and seventeen that served to. At one time the courts could order you to serve in the military in exchange for prison time. When that happened, your age did not count. They did what they wanted with you. After all, you were a prisoner. That’s how I got into the military; I messed up and got caught.
By Rocky Emily5 years ago in Serve
My own little Randy Bragg
In the 1950’s during the fears of nuclear war, author Pat Frank wrote the searingly realistic fictional novel “Alas, Babylon” about survival in a small Florida town after the then Soviet Union attacks America with nuclear weaponry.
By Jay Michael Jones5 years ago in Serve
Finding yourself in Alaska...
“Why is it that we have to have deep conversations without the comfort of being somewhere where I can smoke?” Logan grumbled as he fiddled with a small can of mints and popped one in his mouth before he began.
By Rose Loren Geer-Robbins5 years ago in Serve
The Soldier's Final Mission
Cigarette smoke and rum, horses and sweat – the familiar smells of race-day. To Thomas Buchannan, the all-encompassing rumble of the crowd seems louder than it would have been before the war, as if to overcome the absence of lost comrades. An occasional voice rises above – equally unintelligible. The colours of the women’s dresses are vivid in defiance of the Austerity. His own standard issue de-mob suit is easily lost in the chaos. Thin waists, bony legs with pen lines up the back, since black-market stockings are such a luxury. It’s not right. He scratches at the scarred skin around his missing eye. Women need meat on their bones.
By Samantha Monaco5 years ago in Serve
War and Roses
The package arrived on a Tuesday. Knowing that I preferred watching the real world over daytime television, one of the nurse’s aides had been kind enough to push my wheelchair as close as he could to the broad front window. I read his name tag carefully — Jackson, it read — and thanked him, but we both knew that by dinner I would forget it. It was a dance we did every day, my failing mind and I.
By Virginia Kruta5 years ago in Serve