It's really very good timing. Almost like it's planned. "Okay," he says, turning down another street--they're in a middling part of town, not great but not too sketchy, and he brings them to a stop in front of a midrise building, nondescript, brownish brick.

He cuts the engine, leans over and points up to a set of windows close to the corner of the building, third floor. And he just... spits it out.

"I filled out a rental application for that place today." He pauses, takes a breath. "When I get back... from Yugoslavia... I'm getting out. Of the Army. Completely."