Distant Valor

by C. X. Moreau

  “Is that all that happened as far as you are aware?” asked Simmons.

  “That’s what I remember, sir. The man was wounded too badly to move. I may have discussed the possibility of calling a medevac bird with Sergeant Griffin, but I’m not sure.”

  “So what you’re saying, in effect, Corporal Downs, is that you found this man because you were the point man and that you then called Sergeant Griffin to the scene?” asked Simmons.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Were you present when the man was administered medication, or dosage of medication was being discussed?” asked Simmons as he leaned over the table.

  “I was in the area, sir. On the point,” said Downs.

  “And do you recall what was administered to the individual?” asked Simmons.

  “I wouldn’t be aware of that, sir.”

  “Answer the question, Corporal. And that’s an order,” said Lieutenant Walters.

  Downs regarded the lieutenant, then stated, “I was on point, sir. My duty was to scout the area to the immediate front of the squad and determine the best route for movement of the squad and the possibility of contact with a hostile force. I am not qualified to state whether or not the individual in question received any medication or in what amounts, sir.” Downs again looked to Captain Simmons, “That’s the truth, sir. I remember the Doc coming up, but it was obvious the guy was too far gone to help.”

  Simmons nodded his head, then said, “Fine, Corporal. Did you encounter any more wounded on the way down the hill?”

  “None, sir.”

  “As best as you can estimate it, how many KIA did you see on the way out, Corporal Downs?” continued Simmons.

  “Maybe ten or fifteen, sir.”

  “Located where?”

  “Near the gate at the top of the hill. And also farther down. In the area that was the kill zone for my gun and the field of fire for my team, sir,” said Downs in an even tone.

  “Approximately how many did you observe in your own kill zone?”

  Downs thought for a minute. “Maybe five or six, sir.”

  “Very well, Corporal. I would like to leave the discussion of the movement off the hill and ask some questions pertaining to the briefing you received concerning your mission that night. Do you recall specifically what you were told concerning the mission prior to departing the battalion area?”

  “Some of it, sir. But not word for word.”

  “Just do your best, Corporal Downs. A summary will be fine,” said Captain Roberts.

  “Yes, sir,” answered Downs. “I believe our mission was to depart the battalion area at oh-three-hundred hours and proceed by convoy to the designated hill. Once there we were to relieve the dragon squad and assist them in bringing out whatever gear they had at the hill. Our orders specified that we were not to leave any gear in place that might be used by the locals.”

  “Do you recall at what time your squad was to depart from its position on the hill?” asked Roberts.

  Downs thought for a short while. Obviously the time designated for departure would have been chosen by the battalion operations officer and would therefore be known to the board. “I’m not really sure, sir. I know we were told we could catch a few hours sleep after we got to the hill. I think we were supposed to depart the hill ASAP after the gear had been loaded.”

  The officers considered Downs’s answer before Captain Simmons asked, “Do you recall Sergeant Griffin telling you a specific time for the squad to be prepared to move that night? After you arrived at the hill?”

  Downs sensed the thrust of the questioning. The board wanted to establish that Griffin and Slocum had spent the day preparing their defenses, not loading gear as they should have done if they intended to evacuate the hill as ordered. He suppressed the urge to smile then answered, “No, sir. After our arrival at the hill Sergeant Griffin told me to have my fireteam rack out in the basement of the building for a few hours as we would have to spend the rest of the day loading gear onto the six-bys. I don’t recall him giving me a specific time the movement would take place.”

  Downs was satisfied that his answer was a good one. It would cover Griffin and not allow the board to establish that he and Slocum had defied orders and deliberately waited for the Arabs to attack instead of preparing to abandon the position. Captain Simmons cleared his throat and asked, “After your squad got up, how did you spend the rest of the day, Corporal?”

  “Sergeant Griffin had us assist the dragon squad and the radio personnel in loading gear onto the vehicles, sir.”

  “Is that all, Corporal?” continued Simmons.

  Downs knew that the officers would know from previous testimony that the squads had also strengthened their defensive position and dismounted the .50 caliber machine guns, remounting them in the building as a defensive measure. “No, sir. We also improved the defensive posture of the perimeter. The vehicles were moved to the rear of the courtyard and the heavy machine guns brought inside the building and set up with their respective fields of fire.”

  “And who was responsible for this, Corporal?” asked the lieutenant.

  “Sergeant Griffin was, sir. As the senior NCO present and there not being any officers in the area.”

  “Watch your mouth, mister!” shot back the lieutenant. “Or I’ll charge you with disrespect toward an officer.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Downs, acknowledging the order.

  “Corporal Downs,” said Roberts, “were you aware that one of the six-bys was down due to mechanical failure and that the departure of the squads was going to be delayed?”

  “I became aware of that when we started loading the vehicles and I saw the driver attempting to start it, sir.”

  Roberts nodded, then asked, “Do you know the nature of the problem?”

  “With the vehicle, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir. I do know that our orders were to bring out all the equipment at the position and Sergeant Griffin wouldn’t abandon that vehicle, sir.”

  “Was that particular vehicle in working order when your squad arrived at the position?” asked the captain.

  “I couldn’t say, sir,” answered Downs.

  “I see, Corporal. Do you recall at what point it became operable?” asked Roberts.

  “No, sir. Not really,” said Downs.

  Simmons exchanged glances with Roberts, then asked, “But it did leave the position under its own power the next day?”

  “As far as I know, sir.”

  “Very well, Corporal Downs,” said Simmons. “I think that is all the questions we have for you and your fireteam at this time, unless one of the other officers has something.” Simmons paused to look at the others who shook their heads negatively. He looked at his watch and continued, “Given the time we won’t hear any more statements today. Corporal Downs, you will remain in the battalion headquarters with your fireteam until tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred. If we do not have any further questions by that time you will report back to your company with your team. Is that understood, Marine?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well. You are dismissed.”

  Downs rose and took the required step backward and said, “Good day, gentlemen.” The officers of the board nodded and Downs spun on one heel and left the room with Ferris and Smith.

  CHAPTER

  22

  Downs ate in silence at the battalion mess and contemplated the day’s events. He was not at all sure what the board of officers had been driving at during most of the questioning. Obviously they thought there was a problem with the wounded militiaman that Griffin had given the morphine.

  A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the scene, and his participation. Downs was sure that Griffin had done the right thing, the humane thing. The man was dying and he was beyond help when they had gotten to him. To have left him there without easing his pain would have been cruel, and to have moved him would have meant making his death painful. Still, the officers had asked que
stions that could only mean they suspected foul play.

  Downs surmised that they knew the essential facts of the story and were simply fishing for the details that would allow them to make the decision to formally charge Griffin and Slocum. He picked up his plastic tray and headed out of the makeshift mess hall fashioned from pine two-by-fours and roofed by a canvas tent. The fresh smell of the pine resin from the lumber reminded him of home, and of her.

  He felt a twinge of sadness. It had been days since he had thought of her. Always before he had allowed himself a few moments at the end of every day when he would think of her and of the things they had done together. He had looked forward to that time each day the way other Marines looked forward to mail call. He smiled to himself remembering the old Marine Corps axiom that there are really only two times of day, the time before mail call and the time after mail call. He had stopped looking forward to mail calls a few weeks after the arrival of her last letter.

  He had carried that letter in his pocket for months. There was no hint in it of another boy, or even a good-bye for him. Instead she had written of her life at college, her new friends, courses she was taking. He had read it every day for a long time, in private moments away from his friends when he was sure no one would see him reading it for the hundredth time. He had read it over and over again until the pain began to lessen with each reading.

  He had tried to write to her. More than once he had started a letter only to put it in his pocket to finish tomorrow. He would take his letter out and the words wouldn’t come. He would read her letter again and know he had lost her. After a while the hurt faded to a dull ache and he ceased reading the letter. He knew then that he wouldn’t write to her.

  Downs had fought a battle with himself to quit caring and had very nearly won. He had quit longing for mail call, knowing that no letter from her would be waiting for him. He had steeled his heart against the hurt until the pain was a dull throb he was unaware of except in the quiet moments when he lay awake in his cot and thought of her. He had grown used to the company of his friends, the camaraderie natural to all soldiers, and most intense among those who find themselves on a battlefield.

  He was on his way to forgetting her. He had thought about her less and less each day. He had ceased to look forward all day to the time when he would allow himself to think of her. His rivalry with Griffin had faded as the months in Lebanon dragged on and he became sure of himself as an NCO. And then Mac had been killed. That had changed everything. He missed her again and he knew he needed to talk to her. He could even imagine the conversation, the things she would say to him. Only the words were unimportant, it was her presence he needed.

  He felt as though he had lost his two best friends, and he had no hope of regaining either of them. He ran his finger along the neat cut along the back of his hand and in his mind he saw the image of Mac lying on the ground trying to mask his fear. He felt the sadness well up within him and he walked away from the other Marines in the area.

  He wanted to think, to be alone. To daydream of her and of the times they had spent together. The times before the Marine Corps, and before Lebanon.

  Downs walked around the courtyard of the building in the soft air of late summer. He drew a deep breath and looked at the jagged peaks of the Lebanese mountains. From above he heard the voices of Marines and realized that men were on top of the building doing the same thing he was doing, watching the sun set. He headed inside and began climbing the steps to the roof.

  He ascended the stairs on the interior of the building and found the ladder leading to the roof. As he stepped out onto the roof of the building he looked past the beach to the Mediterranean where the ships of the fleet lay at anchor. From this distance they appeared toylike against the glow of the setting sun. He sat in silence on the low concrete wall that ran the length and width of the rooftop.

  He tried to think of her, of the times they had spent together, but no thoughts of her would come to him. He wasn’t able to block out everything and lose himself in a daydream of her. He remained in Lebanon, another Marine enjoying the sunset atop the battalion headquarters building.

  Downs looked around the roof and spotted Slocum and Griffin at the far end. They were slowly walking the perimeter of the roof, deep in conversation. He felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach as he realized how Griffin must feel. Griffin had done his best in an impossible situation, and now the system was going to make a sacrifice of him at the whim of the first sergeant.

  As the two approached, Downs nodded hello. The two sergeants appeared surprised to see him, then Slocum said, “How you doin’ this evening, Corporal Downs?”

  “Fine, thanks,” said Downs, feeling awkward at having intruded on their conversation. “How are you?”

  Slocum laughed and playfully slapped Griffin on the shoulder. “Well, I’m okay. But ol’ blood and guts here is a mite worried.” Downs made room for the sergeants on the ledge as they drew near. “Damn fine sunset,” said Slocum cheerfully.

  “It’s nice,” agreed Downs, looking at Griffin but not saying anything to him.

  “Did you have chow yet, Downs? What are we havin’ this evening?” asked Slocum as if nothing had happened that afternoon. “And more important, how are the lines?”

  “Not too long,” said Downs, “but you better hurry if you’re going to get there before they secure.”

  “Yeah, no shit. Ol’ Dave here is making me wait until all the troops have had their share, us being senior NCOs and all. The troops probably already ate my share.”

  “You’re not going to starve. Just relax and we’ll go get chow in a minute, Bobby,” said Griffin.

  “Mister gung ho,” said Slocum as he jerked a thumb at Griffin and smiled at Downs. “Well, anyway, it’s just for a few more days. Pretty soon we’ll both be at the head of the chow line with the rest of the privates.” Downs looked away in embarrassment as Slocum continued, “Hey, maybe on the Marine Corps birthday we’ll get the first sergeant to serve us our chow. What do you think, Dave?” said Slocum, grinning wildly.

  Griffin laughed softly and said, “As long as me and you are both privates he probably wouldn’t mind it too much.”

  Slocum laughed and said, “Probably not, that asshole. Well, anyway, I’m going down and get some chow. You coming, Dave?”

  “In a minute, Bobby. I’ll see you down there.”

  “Okay,” said Slocum turning to go. Slocum turned back toward Downs and said, “Hey, Downs. Thanks for what you did today. That took balls, standin’ up to the Zeros and the first shirt like that. ’Course, now they’ll probably hammer you the first chance they get. But hey, you were pretty impressive up there.”

  “Thanks,” said Downs, not knowing what he should say and aware that Griffin wanted to talk to him privately. “I hope all this shit blows over, you know?”

  Slocum laughed and said, “Don’t hold your breath,” as he turned to go. Slocum disappeared down the ladder shaft as Griffin turned to Downs and said, “So how are you doing, Corporal Downs?”

  Downs avoided his gaze and answered, “I’m okay, Sergeant Griffin. Sorry about this afternoon though.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Downs.” Griffin hesitated as both young men looked out to sea toward the gray ships floating in the Mediterranean. “I’m sorry about Mac,” said Griffin unexpectedly. “That kind of thing happens. Nobody can do anything about it, Downs. Nobody. You understand?”

  Downs looked away and shook his head before saying, “I know it happens. I’m not blaming anybody.”

  “It’s more than just not blaming anybody, Downs. It’s understanding that Mac is just like all the rest of us. He joined because whatever it was inside of him that made him want to be a Marine was stronger than his fear of dying. Nobody thinks they’re going to be the one to die. We all think it’s going to be somebody else.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Downs as he looked away toward the city where a few lights began to glow in the twilight. “I appreciate what you’re trying
to do. I really do.”

  “It’s just that you think you don’t need a pep talk from me or anybody else. Right, Downs?” said Griffin, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s not that exactly.”

  “Look, Downs. If that had been you that day instead of Mac, I would still be responsible. Both of you are my troops, remember?” Downs shook his head as Griffin continued, “But there are some other things we both have to remember here. The first is that no matter what the papers or the command call this or don’t call this, it’s getting to be one long drawn-out firefight. We can’t just sit on the sidelines anymore like when we first got here and watch everybody else kill each other. Do you follow me?”

  “Yeah, I understand all that,” said Downs with a wry smile. “Probably better than you do, Sergeant Griffin.”

  Griffin nodded his head and agreed, “Yeah, you probably do, Downs. But there are some other things you may not understand so well.” Griffin paused and chose his words, “Downs, you’re different from the rest of us. Everybody knows it. Christ, even you know it. It’s not exactly a secret. Hell, Slocum and me used to think you were some kind of snitch sent from NIS to spy on us for tightening up shit birds.”

  Downs smiled and said, “Not quite.”

  “Maybe not, Downs. But you’re not the run-of-the-mill Marine either. You think more than the rest of us, and you understand more about politics and shit than the rest of us.” Griffin hesitated as Downs smiled again. “You could have done okay on the outside, Downs.

  “Everybody sees it. Nobody knows why you came in enlisted. You look like an officer, and most of the time you talk like an officer.”

  Downs stood in silence and Griffin continued, “The point is, Downs, that you’re smarter than the rest of us in a lot of different ways. And you worry about a lot of crap the rest of us never even think of.”

  Griffin looked at Downs and let out a long sigh as he plunged on, “But, this is one time you are going to have to listen to me for your own good. You can’t sit here and stew over Mac’s death. It isn’t going to do Mac any good and it isn’t going to bring him back. It happened. It happened like it happened a million times before. Sheer dumb-fucking-stupid bad luck.”