Latimer Coulter loved his work. It pleased him to do something he enjoyed, something he and his family could be proud of. He was serving his country, protecting the people and places that he loved. And he got to work outdoors with good friends. He liked it so much, he even liked Mondays, God bless him.
He frequently found himself singing during his shift – quietly, to himself. It filled the silences. He was happy, why not sing? Sometimes the other guys asked him about it. “What’s that you’re singing, Latimer, another hymn from church?”
He’d grin and nod. Today, again, he sang a song he’d heard in church the day before.
“I’m just a poor wayfarin’ stranger,
travelin’ through this world of woe.”
He hummed the melody inside his gas mask and fired another canister of tear gas into the screaming mob of immigrants on the other side of the wall.
“I’m just goin’ over Jordan.
I’m just goin’ over home.”
God, but Latimer loved hiswork.
He frequently found himself singing during his shift – quietly, to himself. It filled the silences. He was happy, why not sing? Sometimes the other guys asked him about it. “What’s that you’re singing, Latimer, another hymn from church?”
He’d grin and nod. Today, again, he sang a song he’d heard in church the day before.
“I’m just a poor wayfarin’ stranger,
travelin’ through this world of woe.”
He hummed the melody inside his gas mask and fired another canister of tear gas into the screaming mob of immigrants on the other side of the wall.
“I’m just goin’ over Jordan.
I’m just goin’ over home.”
God, but Latimer loved hiswork.
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