Two U.S.Soldiers meet somewhere in the Twilight zone...

I was reading Quora and ran across this and I thought it was very neat.  I didn't write this, I wish I had, I considered it very well done.   The Pics are compliments of "google"

Two US Soldiers meet along a drizzly road somewhere in the Twilight Zone. One is the point man for his Airborne Infantry Platoon from the 82nd Airborne recently dropped in mid-September of 1944 near Nijmegen. The other is the point man for an Airborne Infantry Platoon patrolling among the mountains of Afghanistan in January 2020.

“Halt! Who goes there?” the man in plain herringbone fatigues hissed, raising his Garand to his shoulder and aiming at the man appearing from the fog.

The man in the fog paused, barely able to make out the other man. “Specialist Smith, Third Brigade Combat Team, 82nd Airborne.”

“Advanced to be recognized!” the other man said.

Specialist Smith walked forward out of the fog.

“Whoa!” the other man said, recognizing a green-and-black version of his own unit patch and the US flag, but not the pattern of uniform, helmet, or weapon.

Specialist Smith did his own double-take.

“Jesus, man, why are you still wearing your life-preserver? What sort of rank is specialist?”

“Life preserver? What? Uh… Interceptor Armor. It’s… “ Specialist Smith said, confused for a second. He recognized the uniform and the unit marking the other man wore, but still couldn’t figure out why he was there. “Specialist… It’s a rank between PFC and Sergeant.”

“What? That’s a Corporal.”

“Well, sort of. A Corporal is an NCO, a Specialist… gets the same pay, but not the authority. Like Technicians.” Smith said, remembering reading about Technician Grades.

“You’re not from the 505th.”

“508th Parachute Infantry. 3rd Brigade Combat Team.”

“Why don’t you guys have the same ranks?”

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re wearing a uniform from a long, long time ago, from where I stand.”

“What?”

“It’s 2020. This is Afghanistan. The rest of my unit is just down the hill from here.”

“Bullshit. It’s ‘44… NINETEEN forty four and…” the man in herringbone fatigues started. He paused when he looked behind and around him and noticed he couldn’t see the trees. “This is Germany… Or it was.”

He looked at his companion a little closer. His helmet looked off, he’d never seen that particular camouflage pattern before, but he could hear the slight southern twang in Specialist Smith’s voice that meant he wasn’t a German…

“Sprechen Sie Duetsh?” he asked.

“Ein bisschen” Specialist Smith said.

The man in fatigues raised his rifle again.

“Hey! I speak a little German. My grandmother’s German. Grandpa married her while he was stationed in Germany in the ‘70’s.” Specialist Smith said, raising his hand in a stopping gesture. “You’re literally from World War Two, aren’t you?”

Both men looked at each other for a long moment.

“We beat the Germans, right?”

“Most definitely. Unlike last time though, the Russians take the Eastern half of Europe and turn them Communist though. The US stations divisions in Europe, Germany mostly, until, well, today. A lot of soldiers come back from Germany with German wives. My grandpa just happened to be one of them.”

“Really? Do we fight the Russians too?”

“Not exactly directly. Turns into a proxy war for 40 or 50 years, but we win eventually when they economically collapse.”

“Why didn’t we…?”

“Ummm… there’s this weapon they come up with in… when are you from?”

“1944.”

“A year from when you’re from. It’s a big, nasty bomb that blows up cities… and the Russians end up figuring them out pretty quick too. So we avoid going to war with them directly. Still doesn’t keep them from raising a massive Red Army in East Germany and the rest of Eastern Europe.”

The old soldier looked skeptical.

“The good news is that after we kicked the Nazi’s out, the Germans haven’t invaded anyone since World War 2 or fought on the other side from us ever.”

“Is there a World War 3?”

“Not so much. Just a bunch of drag-on regional wars.”

“We beat the Japs?”

“Yeah. That bomb I mentioned… total gut punch to them after we drop two on them. Didn’t even have to invade Japan.”

“Don’t tell me, 70 years later we have divisions there too…”

“No… Well, Navy Carriers are based out of Japan and the Marines have a base in Okinawa.”

“Do we fight the Japs again?”

“Nope. Two nukes and they turn first-world pacifist and American ally for 70 years.”

“At least there’s that.”

“We lose any wars?”

“Couple of draws. One place—Korea—is still technically a war, but no one’s fired a shot since the 1950’s. Another place… Vietnam… was just weird.”

“Okay, Korea I heard about. Vietnam?”

“Um… French Indochina in your day. Southeast Asia. Right now, the Vietnamese—part of French Indochina—are fighting the Japanese. After the war, World War 2, the French go back in and try to play empire and the Vietnamese keep on fighting. Half the country becomes Communist and we end up trying to keep them from taking over the South and we do for almost 10 years.”

“Then what?”

“The politicians decide to pull US troops out and the North Vietnamese come in and take over in two years or so.”

“Oh.”

“Guerilla war. Not like the one you fought in. My other grandfather was Vietnam vet. They would go out, win, but it was nothing but farmland and jungle, so they’d pull back and the Vietnamese would just roll back in. Nothing to hold and couldn’t kill them all.”

“Still drafting people, huh?”

“Nope, got rid of that after Vietnam. Military’s all volunteer now. I just… it just seems like a family business at this point. One grandfather did a couple of tours in Vietnam, another was career Cavalry, I have uncles and brothers in the Marines.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine wanting to be…”

“It’s a service thing. I’ve got a little guy at home with the wife right now. When I see him on Skype sometimes, I don’t know if I would ever want him to be a soldier.”

“Skype?”

“I… uh… how do I… Um… you know what television is, right?”

“I seen one.”

“Moving pictures on a screen, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, almost everyone has a screen now that’s portable and you can connect to other people with it sometimes. So when we’re back in base, I can connect mine to my wife’s at home and I can see my little guy.”

“That’s kinda’ sharp. Some people at home I’d love to see.”

“Actually, see and hear. It’s got sound.”

“No shit, it’s television.” the older man said and they both laughed. “Still, what is this get-up you’re wearing? Looks like the Mae Wests we were issued for the big jump in June?”

“Oh, it’s body armor. It’s got plates in it that’ll stop rifle fire.”

“Must be some armor.”

“It is. Hurts like a sonofabitch when it does. Takes the wind out of you.”

“Better than dying though.

“Most definitely better than dying.”

“What kind of rifle you got?”

Specialist Smith looked around. There still was nothing but fog, but it felt… somewhere different than Afghanistan. He pulled the magazine out, pulled the charging handle to the rear, locked the bolt back, and handed it to the other man.

The other man put his arm through the sling on his own Garand, hanging it from his shoulder before taking the other man’s carbine.

“It’s an M4 Carbine. Smaller caliber, a .223 caliber bullet.” Smith said, picking the ejected round up off the road and holding it up. “Shoots flat and fast. Pretty good at short range, but we have to use some heavier guns for long range.”

“What’s this… oh… it’s a scope.” the old man said, looking through it at the fog. “Not too heavy.” He looked at the front behind the sight where a boxy device was clasped to the rails. “What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s an aiming light.” Specialist Smith reached into a pouch and pulled out his night vision goggles. “These are night vision goggles. They take what little bit of light there is in the dark and amplify it. These clip to my helmet like this.” He said, clipping them to the mount on the front of his helmet. “That box has a special light on it that I can see with these goggles and lets me aim in the dark without someone else able to see it.”

“Damn. That’s a good idea.” the old man said. “I guess they probably would have a lot of new things in the future.”

“Yeah, and some of the same problems too.” Specialist Smith said, unclipping his NODs. and putting them away. “Stuff still weighs a ton and you got to haul it around on your back.”

Both men shared a laugh.

The fog seemed to be thinner now. Both men’s head were on swivels, remembering where they had been.

Specialist Smith held out his hand for his carbine.

The old soldier looked at it with a slightly jealous leer. “Sure you need this?”

Specialist Smith nodded and the old soldier handed it to him.

Specialist Smith popped the magazine back into place and cycled the action, thumbing the safety on in true unconscious competency.

The fog was almost clear now. The old guy gave Specialist Smith a nod.

“See you around, old timer.” Specialist Smith said. and popped him a salute. “All the way!”

“Airborne!” the old man said, fading into mist and returning both whence and where they came.