THE MIRAGE by Robert E. Bergmann
 
The Human body is regulated at 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Slightly deviate our core temperature and we become ill. At 104 degrees, life-sustaining organs malfunction. 106 degrees and the brain begins to shut down. In the summer of 1990, the Carolina sun was strangling the dew from surrounding swamps, thickening the air past 90 degrees and sweltering my body’s core temperature to 109.8 I don’t remember having my clothes torn away, the silver bullet inserted, or being submerged in ice. Nor do I remember the corpsman’s best attempts only yielding three heartbeats a minute from my listless soul. But there is one thing I do remember. Death - or “near death” – during my last training event at the Marine Corps School of Infantry. I had orders already to the 6th Marine Regiment, and in five weeks we’d be deploying to the Gulf War. I could see the end before everything went dark. As they were loading me in the ambulance, I heard my Platoon Sergeant saying “I think we’re gonna lose this one.” Twenty years later, I still struggle to understand or imagine what happened to me next. *** I’m hovering, rising away from my limp ashen self. Suddenly, a rush of energized colors streak past at warp speed. The floating continues. I’m outside the ambulance now looking down. It’s not a sensation of being lifted or pulled away, there’s just nothing holding me back. No fear. No concerns of how I look. No worries of getting in trouble, no guilt, no burdens, no pain. I’m at peace. Comfort. The ambulance travels north towards the main gate of Camp Lejeune where the Naval Hospital awaits my arrival, but I’m floating. As the red van becomes smaller, I see more buildings and streets. I watch the ambulance pass in front of a big yellow warehouse with a sign that reads “Saigon Sam’s.” The red flashing lights fade as my bird’s eye view expands revealing the block, then the city, surrounding suburbs and the waterfront. My body and soul are drifting further apart, while my mind and spirit remain as one. Recollections return from where the dreams never ventured. I’m in kindergarten and it’s story time. I’m sitting next to Jason Blood on my piece of carpet, we’re having Oreos, Mrs. Fink is reading to the class. Jason separates his cookie and licks the white frosting. Saliva is softening the cream, lick after lick, consistent as a pulse. Tan, the Vietnamese kid with shiny black hair breaks the concentration “Waas e nolage?” Jason leans to me, “Look how smooth it is. Touch it.” The teacher answers: “A mirage, Tan, it’s called a mirage, and it’s a dream people have they think is real.” My finger reaches out and slides with ease across the Oreo’s creamy center. I stare with innocent curiosity as the translucent glaze slimes down my fingertip. I lick it off. *** I pass a few clouds; the ambulance and the city are all specks as the eastern coast comes into view. I stop. No longer separating myself from all I know. The embracing abundant joy has enveloped me. Eyes delight, smile radiates. Savoring the awe, I methodically turn to face the bliss. *** Not yet. I’m released. I Plummet - sky, clouds, landscape; the red ambulance still racing along. I slam through its hard metal roof. A sea of colors whiz past. I stop, hovering, watching from the vehicle’s ceiling. The medic’s back is to me. He’s tapping the bubbles out of a needle. He turns; I drop. *** A telephone’s ring pulls me out of the grog. Days have passed, but now it’s real. I’m real. Another ring. My senses ache. I ache. The light is scorching, hospital stench permeates my misery, a crusty fur covers my tongue. I want to cry. The phone rings again. I strain to the receiver, and rasp out a confused, “Hello.” The voice on the other end bellows back: “Hello’… ‘HELLO?’ Is that the way you were taught to answer a military phone?” I hang up. I want to go home. Master Sergeant Robert Bergmann is an active duty U.S. Marine, who recently attended his first MilSpeak seminar after returning from a 1-year deployment to Afghanistan. He currently resides in Beaufort, S.C.

Robert Bergmann reads from “The Mirage” during MCWS/BFT XI Celebration Sunday, July 25, 2010 at the Santini Bar, MCAS Beaufort, SC.