We could explain it, though. We were well aware of the trials and the joys that had brought us closer. But we kept those explanations to ourselves. With the amount of bragging, the tall tales told by the other Marines we worked with and exaggeration being so commonplace in our work environment, who would believe us if we shared what we had gone through?
That fact, also, brought us closer. When we’d talk late at night, reminiscing about our girl and our adventures back in San Diego, we knew we were the only ones who could appreciate or even understand our stories. We knew we were the only ones who could empathize with or even understand the feelings we had.
“You hear stories about twins, and I guess, about triplets.” said Staff Sergeant Cooper, who was stationed with us, “You know, how they know what the other is thinking, even if they’re not in the same room.” Even though he had a fresh bag of tobacco, and tobacco was easy to come upon where we were, he rolled his cigarette with care and attention as if it was the last tobacco on Earth, picking up each flake that would fall from the rolling paper and meticulously placing it back with the cigarette he was making.
“I’ve heard tales that if one twin gets a stomach ache,” he continued, “the other twin feels a pain in his stomach, too. That sort of thing.” He took a dramatic pause to lick his cigarette shut.
“They say twins can read each other’s minds, that if one twin picks up a habit, the other twin—maybe he’s far away, hasn’t had any contact with his twin in years, but he picks up the habit, too.” He stared at his creation, inspecting it for any imperfections then, satisfied, he lit it up.
“But I do say,”—he shook his head—“I’ve never heard of that kind of connection in a whole squad. Sure Squads are tight. But you guys”—with his cigarette he pointed to us sitting in a semicircle around him—“you guys, I’ve never seen a squad like you before.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” said Elijah.
“It wasn’t a compliment,” said the sergeant. He eyed us each individually with mistrust. “It’s uncanny. Even spooky, I say.”
I chuckled.
“I mean it,” he said to me.
I put up my hands to concede. “Do you exaggerate much, Sergeant?”
He exhaled a puff of smoke and watched it disappear into the air. “Never,” he said. “I speak God's honest truth. Always.”
“I’ve never believed those stories about twins,” said Tristan.
Sergeant Cooper eyed him suspiciously. “No?”
Tristan shrugged. “At least not all of them.”
“I’ve known Tristan my whole life,” said Travis. “We’ve always lived in the same city. I don’t know what he’s thinking about half the time.”
Sergeant Cooper frowned at Travis then he looked at Taylor.
“I think that’s mostly superstition,” said Taylor.
Sergeant Cooper spat out a laugh. “You boys are messing with me.”
“Never, Sergeant,” I said.
He got out of his chair, pointed at me then left his index finger in the air to sweep across his view at all of us as he stepped away from the group. “I’ve been in the Marines twenty-six years. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of squad’s. I ain’t never seen a squad like you guys.”
He took another drag, exhaled and stared up at the sky. Then he turned to us and said, “I’ve been watching you. I’ve seen the way you boys work together out in the field. It’s like you’re operating with one body and one mind. That’s the kind of thing we say in the Marines, and it’s true, in a kind of way. But with you boys, it’s different.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why or how, but you boys got something special going on.” He paused a long moment looking at us then he walked away.
I fought back my laughter until Sergeant Copper was well out of sight then I let it out. The rest of the squad, like in one body and one mind, let out their laughter, too.
Later that night, Nolan entertained us with a near-perfect Sergeant Cooper impersonation. “You boys got something strange going on between you.” He sucked on his pen in place of a cigarette. “I’ve been in the Marines twenty-six years. And I ain't never seen anything like it.” He pointed at us. “I got my eye on you boys.”
Sergeant Cooper wasn’t the only one to notice how different we were from the other squads. I noticed it, too. We were all aware of how special our bond was. And there was nothing strange or uncanny about it. No. It was beautiful.
I was lying on the bottom bunk, J.P. on the top. I kicked his bed. “Put your phone away,” I said. “You need to get some sleep.”
“I am sleeping,” said J.P.
“OK. My mistake.”
“Hey,” Taylor called out from his bunk on the other side of the room. “Can you guys keep it down, I’m trying to think.”