Lightning exploded right on top of us and for a second flashed the night into midday, making both of us drop down on our knees by the motorcycle. I was up quickly and around to his side helping him up, cursing aloud as I always did at ungodly loud noises. “Damn, that was a big one!” The old man playfully poked me in the belly with his cane. “Like a damn 155 round, wadn’t it, son?” Unable to hold a smile back on that one, I said, “Yeah. Would’ve had our heads rattling ‘round in our helmets.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Figured you to of been in the arm’ service. War vet too, I figure.” I told him that yes I was in the Army and in my generation’s war, Vietnam. He grinned on that one and slapped my shoulder. “I knew it. Can always tell.”
And I said, “Yes . . . yes you can.”
“You were in the good war,” I said. “And all of us owe you thanks for giving all you gave and all we got.” “’Preciate that, young man.” Both his hands quivered slightly as he took my hand again and shook. “Nobody but my late wife ever told me that before.” Then he looked at me dead on with those strong, blue eyes, cutting through the awkward moment.”And I know in that Vietnam war, you boys done the best you could.” We spoke no more. I watched him shuffle into the store, rocking with every right foot step, leaning full on that cane. A lady held the door for him and he nodded his thanks. As he made his way to the men’s room, I already had put in my credit card and was filling his truck. The last thing I did was to pull out my Army unit coin that I had carried in my pocket for forty years, and left it on his dash. The rain was pinging the metal roof like the rattle of machine gun fire. And the lightning cracked and the thunder blasted me again like a 155, damn it all. I had to move. I cranked up my bike and gunned it out of the gas station just to hear my loud pipes as we split the night. It was 14