Title: "USO Show"

Fandom: Over There (Sgt. Scream)

Characters: Sergeant "Scream" Silas

Prompt: 046. Star

Word Count: Approx. 2,387

Rating: PG-13, adult language

Author's Notes: None at this time. If I think of any, I'll let you know. "Over There" is written and produced by the always-innovative Steven Bochco Productions, for the FX cable TV channel. I'm not making any money from this derivative work, just borrowing the squad for a bit o' fun.

"Did you guys hear?" Private Frank "Dim" Dunphy called out, as he burst into the squad's sleeping tent. "The USO's coming to Camp Victory for a show!"

"Shut the hell up, Dim," Sergeant Chris "Scream" Silas shouted from his bed rack near the far end of the tent. "We're all bushed from the last twenty-four hour patrol. Can't you keep your damn piehole closed long enough for the squad to get some sleep?"

"Sorry, Sarge," Dim said, reaching his own rack and rummaging through the footlocker next to it.

Private "Angel" King yawned and stretched, stirring himself awake from the ruckus Dim had made. "There had better be a fire or a bad dream in all of this, Dunphy. You woke me up out of a perfectly good Tyra Banks dream..."

"USO's coming to camp, Angel," Dim replied, a bit quieter since Angel's rack was next to his own. "They say that a couple big time stars are coming to perform. The hermits over in the supply dump say that a bunch of Playboy playmates are tagging along too."

"Hell, why didn't you say so in the first place?" Scream bellowed from his rack. "Matter of fact, Dunphy, since you're so full of goddamn good news today, you can be the squad's alarm clock. Wake us all up when the playmates arrive. Until then, unless the camp is under attack, your big mouth had better stay shut while you're inside this hooch. You got me?"

"Affirmative, Sarge," Dunphy said quietly, withdrawing a package of writing materials from his footlocker and leaving to find a private spot to write a letter home.

***

"The buzz around Camp Victory was palatable like the kind of dry desert heat that stuck to you," Scream began to write in his small diary a few hours later. "We'd been in this peacekeeping operation for a couple months already, and the operational tempo was sure to increase with the news that our infantry battalion was being made responsible for one of the worst sectors west of Baghdad for insurgent activity.

"I know the guys have been under stress since this whole thing started for them. I still wonder about Bo, and how he's doing ever since the landmine incident that took off his leg. I'm sure that his wife and the medics back at Fort Gordon are taking good care of him. Dunphy still talks about that day every so often, since he was there and insisted that Bo take the ride with him to go fetch Smoke's supply of contraband liquor. I can see in his eyes that he needs an excuse to get it off his shoulders. Maybe this USO thing might do it for him.

"Angel and Smoke are pretty much keeping an even keel these days. They're a pair of rock solid soldiers, even though Smoke is a little harder to handle at times. I can't complain about either of them. Angel can still dot the "i" on a street sign from five hundred meters with open sights on his carbine, and when Smoke rocks and rolls with the two-forty-nine, ain't nothin' that stands up when the dust settles.

"Lieutenant Underpants and the Captain briefed all the squad leaders and platoon sergeants about what was expected during this USO event. Essentially it boiled down to "no shenanigans, no knock-down drunk behavior, and no jumping up on stage to mess with the women". Hell, if we wanted to have no fun at all, I'd have volunteered us for perimeter security. Then again, the guys who didn't want to see the USO shindig could at least sleep if we didn't pull duty, so I kept my big mouth shut this time."

***

At around 1900 hours, the stage was ready and troops from the battalion Scream's squad belonged to had begun to congregate in the unit assembly area, along with support troops from other resident units and even a group of surgeons and nurses based at the MASH unit a few klicks away from Camp Victory. The assembly area had been converted into an outdoor amphitheater, with every spare folding chair culled from command tents, the mess tent, and a variety of sleeping tents when their owners could be coaxed to give them up.

The local engineer unit had fabricated a sturdy stage and wired up as much as they could so the sound and effects engineers that traveled ahead of the USO troupe could get their setting up completed in time for the show. Amid all of the excitement and anticipation of the show, Scream, Angel, Smoke, Dim, Mrs. B and Doublewide found themselves a good spot from which they could enjoy the performances. Dim and Smoke had the squad's cooler, which the enterprising privates had been able to stock with ice and a case of Budweiser beers. Scream didn't bother asking where the stuff had come from, since he always took his Sergeant's share out of what they seemed to uncover and certainly had his share of enjoyment from it.

Mrs. B nursed a longneck, watching Dim quietly from her place, while Angel and Smoke traded small talk. All of a sudden, the assembled crowd began to cheer as a handful of musicians stormed onto the stage and started banging out a rock and roll number by Bon Jovi. Over the throbbing bass of the music, the squad members could hear the deep whup-whup-whup of an approaching helicopter. People began to look into the sky as an Army Blackhawk helo slipped into the beams of spotlights set up around the assembly area. The transport slick descended quickly and landed in an area behind the stage that a platoon of military police had cordoned off, and all of the spectators wondered who would come out.

Leading off the USO visitors was a buxom blonde named Misty Stockton, an amateur singing sensation who performed a set of soulful country songs to the adoring crowd. Misty had a wonderfully seductive voice, and Dim seemed to get a dreamy look in his eyes when he saw her.

"Wow," Dim observed to the squad. "That is some girl, that Misty Stockton. She sure can sing."

"If you're a good boy, Dunphy," Scream said while the rest of the squad had a guffaw at Dim's expense, "I'll try to get you into the dressing tent to meet her."

"Oh, Daddy, would you please?" Dim chirped sarcastically, drawing another laugh from his squadmates.

"Shut up, Dunphy," Scream replied in his usual, take-no-shit tone. "You've got a girl at home. Don't try scoring with the USO chicks, okay? I don't want to be bailing you out with the Captain when the MP's tag you for doing something indecent."

"Yeah, Dim. Don't go reciting poetry outside her tent or running around with your BDU's around your ankles!" Smoke quipped, trading a laugh with Doublewide.

Misty Stockton's performance was followed by a dance routine by three scantily-clad Playboy playmates, which really caused a roar to rise from the crowd of mostly men in the audience. Tall and slender, the women danced around the stage in red, white and blue bikinis, their bodies moving to the band's rock music. Despite the obvious sexuality of their performance, the playmates weren't accosted by any of the more surly or lovestruck soldiers in the unit, and the USO show concluded to a rousing applause for all involved.

After the last set of songs ended, and the band started packing out their gear, Lt. Colonel Raymond, the camp commander, addressed the troops.

"Okay, gentlemen and ladies," he began. "For all the guys who pulled twenty-four hour insurgent patrol last week, you're going to be treated to visits by the USO performers in your squad hooches before the group moves on to their next appearance.

"I'm only going to warn you once to keep your little heads inside your uniforms and don't do anything stupid. Thanks for making this a great show, and thanks to the USO, Misty Stockton, and everyone who put this little shindig together for us."

"Did you hear that?" Dim yelped, nearly falling off the folding chair he was sitting on. "Those hotties are gonna stop by our squad tent! Wahoo!" He scrambled to his feet and started for the hooch.

"Don't forget to hide the porn magazines and flip your stained mattress over, Dim!" Smoke shouted, drawing more laughs from Angel, Mrs. B, and Doublewide.

Scream watched his squad with disinterest, as they gathered up the remains of their small party within the party and headed for their bed racks. Instead of heading off with them, he began to walk toward a spot near the stage's location in the assembly area, where he liked to sit and think at night. He found the lone desert scrub bush, which was within a few feet of the back of the stage, and settled against it to watch the stars.

Fishing around in one of the deep utility pockets of his BDU's, Scream dug up his diary to continue chronicling the events of the day. After taking a good long look at the cloudless, starry sky, he began to scrawl more of his private thoughts down.

Scream didn't realize that someone had discovered his sitting place, and was standing at the edge of the stage a scant two feet away. He was almost startled when a soft female voice asked, "Do people need reservations at this here corner locale, soldier?"

Silas turned to see Misty Stockton standing behind him. "It's a free country," he whispered.

Misty had her hands resting on her dainty, feminine hips, with the signature white denim jacket she wore on stage open to reveal a silky red camisole rustling in the light desert breeze. The comfortable blue jeans she had hugged the lower half of her hourglass figure. Streams of her hair surrounded her soft features as the breeze picked them up.

"I don't mean to interrupt your writin' time, Sergeant," she said, noticing the rank device on Scream's collar. "I just like looking at the stars too."

"You can join me if you like. I don't bite," Scream said. He shifted over and patted the field jacket that he had spread on the sand before sitting down.

To Scream's surprise, Misty instantly accepted his invitation, sitting close to him in order to share the field jacket on the sand. "I'm Misty Stockton."

"I know. I watched your set. You're a great singer."

"Thank you, Sergeant..."

"Silas. Chris Silas. But my troops call me Scream."

"How long have you been in Iraq, Chris?"

"Almost thirteen months now," Scream said with a sigh. He was surprised that Misty seemed to be very comfortable around him, despite the fact they were complete strangers. "I was supposed to go home a month ago, but they needed me to stay on and play nursemaid to my squad of rookies."

"I can't imagine how hard you soldiers' lives are out here, living in this every day... Fighting the insurgents... Seeing all the poor people and knowing that you can't be the super hero that they need to pull them out of poverty."

"It is hard, ma'am," Scream whispered, taking his eyes off his diary and looking at the desert beyond the camp perimeter. "Hard on everybody."

"You don't know how much the folks back home appreciate what you do, Chris," Misty said, hesitating to make contact with Scream, but resting her hand on the field jacket between her leg and his. "We know it's a thankless job, and innocent civilians or your friends could be killed all around you. And yet you keep on doing it. You might not think so, but you're already a hero to a lot of people."

"I don't feel like one."

"That's okay." Misty moved her hand onto Scream's thigh, felt him twitch a moment as if to withdraw, and then watched him relax. "You looked like you could use a friend... even if just for a few minutes."

Scream looked into Misty's soft blue eyes, and the warm smile that crossed her lips. "Thank you," he replied.

"When I was a little girl, I started writing in a diary. I kept all my private thoughts, my feelings, and my secrets there. I liked to collect signatures of people who were special to me in one way or another." She pulled out a small, pink, vinyl-bound notebook. "This one is volume thirteen. I'd be really honored if we could trade. I'll autograph yours, if you'll autograph mine."

Scream almost unconsciously tried to conceal the nondescript spiral notebook that he had been writing in, but brought it out onto his lap and selected the page he was working on. "You can read some of it if you like. I don't mind."

Misty and Scream traded diaries, and they both began writing simultaneously. After a few moments of furious scribbling, both of them stopped when the USO stage manager started calling Misty's name.

"Uh oh. Time to go visit the squads." Misty closed Scream's diary and they traded their keepsakes once more. "You have the honor of the first autograph on Camp Victory though."

Scream looked down at his notebook and his lips cracked a small smile. "I'll cherish it," he said.

Misty leaned over to give Scream a peck on the cheek. "Thank you for sharing the stars with me. You stay alive and come home, Chris. OK?"

"That's a promise."

***

Later, as Scream stretched out in his rack, he opened the notebook to read what Misty had added to his journal.

"Chris," the handwritten passage began. "Believe it or not, you're a hero. Never forget who you are, and how special you are for the brave things that you do every day for others. I can't claim to have half the courage you and your fellow soldiers show out here. Just know that you're appreciated, and when you make it home, you can always call on a friend to help you celebrate. I can't wait to read about all the things you and your squad has done here. Love, Misty."

Meanwhile, aboard an Army UH-60 helicopter that was moving the performers to their next engagement, Misty opened her diary and smiled at Scream's simple message.

"Keep singing, Misty. Thank you for reminding us who and what we're fighting for. -Chris."