Jimmy

Above him, just out of reach, is the grid made by the wires, straps, and springs of a U.S. Army cot supported upon its twin that must be under him. Confusion returns, pushing out the pain. Jimmy's room has no upper bunks. His head turns toward the center of the room, drawn by the heat from a single, bare, white light -- nothing but white walls in that direction, and the light. He looks toward his feet and, in the wall beyond, sees bars where a window once was; no glass, just a rectangular hole in the wall with bars that sucks in light and drains the heat.

Jimmy raises himself toward a sitting position. Pain rushes back into his head and pushes everything else out. When he ducks his head under the cot above, every passage and space in his head fills with pain. His feet touch the floor. He steadies his head in his hands, supporting its weight with his elbows upon his knees. He sees his shoes and realizes there are no laces in them. His eyes move back toward his body -- no belt, no tie. Discoloration marks his uniform's front. The cot under him has no blanket, sheets, mattress cover or pillow - just a bare mattress. He allows his neck muscles to hold his heavy head, and uses his arms to push himself up, directly under the glaring light bulb. There is a doorway opposite the window, but no door. Turning toward it, he moves slowly, to still the sloshing pain in his head.

Jimmy looks out into a short hall and sees another doorway on the same side of the hall. Moving down to the other doorway, he leans his upper body inside -- another room, empty. Movement and confusion make his heart pump faster bringing him fully awake. He becomes conscious of his body; conscious enough to know that all his parts are working and that the discoloration on his blouse is a dark, reddish color like blood mixed with the olive drab of his Ike Jacket. Feeling his face, head, neck and upper body, he finds no wound. His brain begins to take control and thoughts crowd out other sensations.