Well, here I go again. All alone except for this suitcase of mine. I’m headed for a new place with new people. Not so bad considering it’s 1944. Lots of guys are in my shoes. We’re in the middle of World War II. Still not so bad. I’m a fireman in the Army Air Corps whatever they’re calling themselves these days. Once again, not bad at all. But I was born in 1963. There’s the bad part.
I was not born with the name Ray Lafayette, but that’s what they call me. I didn’t have kids or smoke a pipe. Hell, I didn’t even like coffee. I do now.
I was born into a different life than this, one with a lot of attachments. Now I carry my life in one bag. One really important bag.
In this time, people call me pal or buddy or sir, good lord they call me sir all the time.
I have friends in this time, and they are the best but do they know me like they think they do? Simply put, NO! Would they die for me? Every bit as much as I would die for them.
To say these folks are tough or strong is an understatement. Superhumans? I don’t think so. They were ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. I didn’t have heroes before this. I didn’t understand them until now.
Since this event has started, I have experienced many things I can’t explain. There is only one other person who has any knowledge of my situation, and I can’t find him. The last words from him were vos non unum, you are not alone.
There was a time I missed all the things that made my life easier as I thought. Here I have no cell phone, no internet, no rock music, no almost anything. As bad as that sounds, I’m not sure if I want to leave here.