The Last Night

This is a short story that I recently wrote that is loosely based on real events. It is, however, fiction. I hope you enjoy.


January has come and the bone chillingly cold air is obvious proof of that. Crevices where sidewalks dip to meet the road are lined with sheeted ice. The leafless branches of trees sway with the howling wind that sweeps detritus down Granby Street. The moon is just as hidden as the sun was some six hours ago before it set, so the sky is hazy, which is just about right for a cryptic winter day.
“Sorry guys, another shitty night – but hey – look at it from the bright side, we are gonna have a chance to make it over to Cask for a quick drink, first round’s on me,” I exclaimed locking the front door. There were six guests left, half of which were employees enjoying a beer and some shots on their night off. Additionally, there were a couple of navy guys playing pool, trying to prolong their night, seeing as they would soon return to the Naval Base a few miles down the road. I slowly brought the lights up, indicating that last call was here and it was time to order the final drinks of the night, and to finish them in a timely manner as well. It was only midnight and we could legally serve alcohol for two more hours, but that didn’t matter since there was no one there to serve. I began doing paperwork for the night while sitting at the bar that was still sticky from a previous guest, who had drunkenly and haphazardly spilt his Captain and Coke. I began thinking about how much longer we could operate doing nights like this, and it frustrated me to think that on a slow night the bartender still hadn’t gotten around to clean the bar that was dirtied some two hours ago. This type of thing a restaurant owner or manager reflects on constantly, and as my mind began drifting elsewhere, out of the corner of my eyes I saw a group of guys approaching the front door. I wandered over to address them and see if I could be of help, but was reluctant to invite them inside. They, obviously drunk, begged for me to let them in, exclaiming that the morning would bring their deployment to Afghanistan and they wanted one more night of drunken happiness. I couldn’t argue that, so I granted them access, and motioned them to the bar where Jessica was waiting and sighing with discontent at me.
Scampering a couple steps ahead of the crowd, Johnny, an overweight Asian was the ring leader, and took the liberty of ordering shots of Rumpleminze – peppermint schnapps, a cordial that is so iconically appropriate during the winter months. Jessica lined up the shots, they looked on and cheered as each glass filled to the brim. She handed Johnny two at a time, and he began issuing the chilled glasses as I fielded a phone call asking what time we would be closing tonight. He motioned for her to pour four more, which upon his receipt, handed two right back for us, and he motioned that the others were for our off duty bartenders sitting at the bar who were already half drunk. I smiled as Jennifer handed me the shot, and I motioned that she could have one as well. This was a special circumstance, it was an honor to be a part of this quasi-last supper, and I was excited to embrace the occasion. Johnny motioned for everyone’s attention, and began his toast as the group circled around.

“Here's to other meetings,
And merry greetings then;
And here's to those we've drunk with,
But never can again.”


The toast seemed to echo the harsh truth of military life and the possibility of death, while sobering, was reality for this group that had worked so hard, together, in harsh conditions which would inevitably worsen upon arrival in Afghanistan. Johnny raised his glass, circled the bar clinging his against everyone’s and I half smiled at Jessica knowing I could never really relate to them – I would never have the fears, doubts, and sleepless nights by which their adventure on the other side of the world will be defined. I can, however, understand this desire to drink away the pain of leaving behind all they ever knew, and though brief, and unsustainable the notion of drinking away the pain makes complete sense. Perhaps at a certain point in drunken cloudiness the frightening journey for which they embark in the morning begins to fade and emotions of love, happiness, and peace will persevere. This indeed did happen but not before another two rounds of shots. Jamie the youngest of the group, just out of officer candidacy school was ironically from my hometown of Atlanta and we began swapping stories of our childhoods there, our families, and our forlorn love for that sacred place. He jumped in and offered to buy the next round, which also meant the next toast belonged to him as well.
“Okay guys – you know I love every goddamn one of you… including you bar keep – you are so damn cute and you too – Jeff, my fellow Atlantan,” he slurred, prefacing his toast in obvious discomfort from the spotlight. “Grab your glasses, this shit is much better than that peppermint bullshit! We got some Goldschlager… this stuff has real gold. Bring it on baby!!! Grab your glasses,” he hollered as the crowd gathered around laughing at the buffoonery he brought to the table.
He paused and continued solemnly, trying his hardest to keep his poise:

Here's To Singles,
Friends And Heroes.
They say in life we need friends and heroes,
As I look out upon all of you today,
I raise my glass and say to you....
I am glad I can be both.

“I love you guys – you know that – we have something special…. We are friends, but above that we are heroes, and wherever this journey takes us,” and he paused as a solitary tear slid the length of his cheek, trying to conquer the emerging emotions. He proceeded, “Wherever it takes us I am proud to be a part of this, and I am not talking about being an American, or even a Navy officer, I am talking about being a part of this fraternity, this eternal and sacredly formed friendship we have here tonight and I am a lucky son of a bitch to know every damn one of you.”
I looked at Jennifer who now had tears running down her face and she smiled softly at me. Later that night I found out that her father’s life had been taken in the Persian Gulf War, and this incredible display of emotion was something that was perhaps eerily familiar to her. She walked over, we wrapped our arms around each other’s goosebump lined shoulders and we soaked up the wonderful display of passion from these often cold and hardened souls. They held each other, smiled and opened the floodgates to their hearts that would, come tomorrow morning, be shut off from the world for six months. I lined up ten more shot glasses, and grabbed a bottle of Maker’s Mark, perhaps the most iconic of American Liquors. I put eight glasses in front of them, and began.

“Guys, this is an incredible honor to have you all here. I’m happy as hell that you guys showed up when you did, and for me it is a raw and vivid look at fate that you came into our lives tonight. What you are doing for us and this country will never be forgotten – the sacrifices you have all made are selfless, and real and more than I will ever fathom. I know that you guys have to get out of here, but before you do, I want to buy each of you a shot and make a quick toast.
I began:

“I wish you health, I wish you well, and happiness galore.
I wish you luck for you and friends; what could I wish you more?
May your joys be as deep as the oceans, your troubles as light as its foam.
And may you find, sweet peace of mind, where ever you may roam.”

We raised our glasses simultaneously and they motioned for Jennifer and myself to come around, and out from around the bar so that we could be a part of them for a couple of moments. Johnny kissed me on the cheek with tears now streaming down his face, and we embraced for a couple of emotion filled moments. He was drunk, as were the other seven, but that didn’t take away from what they were feeling, because it was real. They vowed to return to my bar on their way home six months from now, and I insisted that all eight of them would be back and we would celebrate the occasion appropriately. As the bar cleared out, I turned off the lights and muted the music and locked the doors. Crossing over the Chesapeake Bay on the Berkeley Bridge I looked towards the waters that would soon be taking those eight Navy guys to a different part of the world, and I thought about their life on the ship and how grateful I was to have my life of blessing. This night helped me put life into perspective, and it helped me understand how truly blessed I am in so many ways – most of which I take for granted. I then began to think, in respect to these eight individuals that I really haven’t made much of a sacrifice in my life at all.
It took two months for Jessica to tell me the secret of her father’s death in the war of our childhood’s and we did it over shots on an eerily similar March night, and her toast was this.

“Life lives, life dies. Life laughs, life cries.
Life gives up and life tries.
But life looks different through everyone's eyes.”

I’m not sure what to make of the toast she made that night, however I feel that she had been trying to gather the courage to give it and tell me of her father’s death since that emotion filled night with the Navy guys. I guess I will never really know what she was trying to say, what it is like to lose a father in battle, or watch a fallen comrade never make it home, but I know I am blessed and Johnny, Jamie and the rest of those guys helped me realize that. It probably means more to me that Jamie, my fellow Atlantan, never made it home from Afghanistan. The other eight did and when they returned we hugged, laughed and cheered with thoughts of Jamie in the forefronts of our minds. Goldschlager tastes a lot better when drinking to the memory of a life that was sacrificed for his country.

Thanks to all of you who serve our Country. Hurry home Greg.
CH.