Sergeant in the Making

My brother, younger, has recently arrived in Baghdad to begin his tour with his medical unit. On my last visit home, his wife gave me a framed photo of Todd with his unit. The fatigues and rifle seem so out of place, yet so appropriate, given his interests as a kid. He was a soldier in the making. I can remember the phase where he wanted to be a government assassin when he grew up!

To me, he is still the kid at the other end of the bathtub. But now, in the photo with 10 other men dressed just like him, he looks like a man. I realize he's always had a little soldier in him.

When I was about 9 and Todd about 6 1/2 we got along better than most kids our age. We fought, sure, but could also manage to play together for at least a few hours at a time without making Mom take notice. We built forts out of chairs and blankets, played Sorry! and Clue, took turns letting the dog pulls in the wagon, and built masions for our Hermit Crabs out of Legos. Like most kids, our favorite games were the ones we made up on the spot. Games like "Clothes War".

We dreaded bedtime same as any other kids and fought back with our share of whinning, procrastinating, and all the excuses we could muster. Usually, we could grab a few more minutes of playtime after we changed into our PJs.

A typical "Clothes War" took place in my room. I would be waiting, crouched on the far side of my bed, dirty clothes in a pile beside me. He would come in an drop on the other side of the bed, his day's dirty clothes at the ready. The ammo allowed were what you had worn that day. Shoes, belts and other non-soft items were not allowed.

One of us would count "1-2-3-Go" and the battle began. The objective, here,was to get ALL of the dirty clothes over on your opponent's side of the bed. They could not be ON the bed, but must be on the floor in your opponent's territory.

Pants, shirts, socks, and yes, underwear, were tossed over the bed with great force. You had to aim wide and high to get your dirties all the way over the bed. Strategy was key. If you aimed wide enough, your opponent had to scramble to gather each piece and toss it back. If you did not use enough force, a shirt may not clear the bed.

Weight and shape of the item also had to be considered. His Toughskins traveled much faster than my little jeans, but his required more effort to launch. Socks, although small, were nice little bullets to fire. Send your clothes all balled up like a cannonball, they might land together and be just as easy to gather and send back. Send individual pieces of shrapnel and your opponent had to work twice as hard to send them back.

Although I was bigger, my clothes were often lighter. My tank tops flew like rockets while his T-shirts sailed a bit more slowly. In cooler weather our battles took more effort. The winter arsenal often included sweaters, turtlenecks, sweatshirts or corduroys. More ammo was not necessarily better.

We took our game on the road, too. Grandma and Grandpa were confused by our game, but let us have our fun. I realize now that they were laughing at us, not with us. On our family vacations at the cabin, Mom and Dad let go and enjoyed the show. It was vacation, after all.


Sometimes the battle ended quickly, other times it took a full 5 minutes of scrambling. We giggled til our sides hurt the entire time. The best two-out-of-three was usually enough to satisfy our play needs and to wear us out completely. About that time, Mom or Dad would shoo us into the bathroom to brush out teeth, where we argued over who was hogging the mirror or who got the first slot in the toothbrush holder. We were on to the next disagreement.

I'm not sure when we launched our last campaign or what may have replaced it, but "Clothes War" has remained one of my most favorite memories. When I think of him, I still see his little blonde head pop up on the other side of the bed, Spider Man undies in hand, just in time to catch my "tightie-whities" between the eyes. Few memories are as satisfying.

He is in Baghdad, defending our country, keeping us free. Todd has always been brave above all else and I respect and admire him for it. We are all eager for him to return, safely, and quickly. I can't help but think how much safer our world might be if war was as simple as flinging your dirty socks at the enemy.