Distant Valor

by C. X. Moreau

  “Good, that’ll help.”

  “We still gotta have a forty-five. Where are you gonna get that?” asked Tiger.

  Downs shrugged and said, “I know where I can get one that won’t be accounted for, if that’s what you mean.” Downs glanced across the compound at the long row of dead men. “I’ll take care of it, Tiger. Just wait here and I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll meet you over by the water bull and you can tuck it under your flak jacket and go down with it like that. Will that work?”

  Tiger considered for a few seconds then answered, “Yeah, it sounds good, but let’s hurry up. The longer we wait the more he pays down there and the more officers and staff NCOs are gonna be nosing around up here.” Tiger glanced back toward the tunnel leading down to Griffin. “Let’s just do it and be done with it. It’ll be better for everybody that way.”

  “Meet you by the water bull in ten, Tiger,” said Downs as he strode off in the direction of the morgue.

  CHAPTER

  29

  Downs walked past the long row of dead Marines and into the tent that had been set up to serve as a triage center. Spotting the staff sergeant he had spoken with earlier Downs nodded and asked, “Staff Sergeant, got a minute?” The older man regarded him for a moment then a look of recognition crossed his features, “Sure. Alpha Company, right?”

  “Yeah, Staff Sergeant,” answered Downs not wanting to repeat his name. “I thought maybe I would come for my sergeant’s gear. I know his family and all and I’ll probably write to them and see that his stuff gets home. That all right?”

  The staff sergeant glanced quickly at a navy lieutenant who was working over a wounded man and asked, “That okay, sir?”

  “What’s that, Staff Sergeant?” the man asked absently.

  “The Corporal here has come for the personal effects of one of his men. Will it be all right if he takes them, sir?”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. See to it, Staff Sergeant,” answered the lieutenant without looking at Downs.

  The staff sergeant nodded in the direction of the bodies and Downs said, “Thanks, Staff Sergeant,” and exited the tent.

  Downs walked over to Slocum’s body and quickly went through his pockets removing his wallet and other personal effects. Trying not to look at Slocum’s face, Downs removed his pistol belt with its forty-five automatic and two magazines. He inserted one of the magazines into the empty well of the pistol then worked the slide, chambering one of the short stubby rounds. The other magazine he stuffed into a cargo pocket of his utility bottoms. Without standing, Downs fastened the leather holster onto the front of his web belt so it would appear as a normal piece of his gear. He would discard it later when nobody was around.

  He walked out of the tent, nodding to the staff sergeant, who continued working inside. Downs measured the distance to the water bull where he could see Tiger waiting. When he was halfway there he heard the voice of the Alpha Company first sergeant ringing across the compound, “Hold it right there, Mister Downs! Where the fuck do you think you’re going with that weapon?”

  Downs spun to face the first sergeant who was barreling down on him from across the compound. He noted the starchy newness of the first sergeant’s uniform in stark contrast to the dinginess of everything else around him. As the first sergeant approached him, Downs reflexively locked himself into a position of attention.

  “I said just where the fuck do you think you are going with that weapon mister!” screamed the first sergeant as he placed his face within inches of Downs’s. “Well, I expect an answer,” he spat.

  “I was headed back to the squad area, First Sergeant,” Downs lied automatically.

  Without warning the first sergeant reached out and grabbed the muzzle of the sniper rifle Downs had taken from the militiaman that morning and slung across his back. The first sergeant jerked the weapon violently off his shoulder, Downs resisting only slightly. “And where did you manage to pick this up, Corporal? And what makes you think you have the right to strut around my battalion with it slung over your shoulder like fucking Davy Crockett?”

  Downs glared at the man, then answered, “We were engaged by an enemy sniper this morning, First Sergeant. We assaulted the ambush according to standard infantry tactics and within the Rules of Engagement. I took the rifle from the hostile sniper after he was KIA to prevent it from falling back into enemy hands.”

  The two continued to stare at each other defiantly, then the first sergeant lowered the weapon’s muzzle and attempted to pull the bolt to the rear and clear the chamber. Downs looked on smugly as the first sergeant struggled with the weapon whose action refused to budge. As it became increasingly apparent that the first sergeant did not know how to clear the weapon, Downs smiled. The first sergeant caught his smirk and instantly dropped the rifle and grabbed Downs by the collar of his flak jacket.

  The first sergeant tightened his grip around the material of the flak jacket, saying “I’ll teach you to laugh at me, you wet-behind-the-ears little motherfucker.” With one motion Downs thrust his knee into the soft flesh of the first sergeant’s testicles. He stood by as the first sergeant collapsed onto his knees, then placed the flat of his boot in the middle of the man’s chest and pushed him over onto the ground. “Fuck you, asshole,” said Downs. “I’m sick of your shit. You want a piece of my ass, then now is your chance. Come and get it.”

  Marines nearby stopped their work and waited. Downs glared at the first sergeant while the man waited for the nausea to pass. When he had regained his breath the first sergeant hissed, “You’re finished, mister. Place yourself under arrest. You’re relieved, just like your buddy Griffin. You struck me without provocation and I’ll see you in the brig for it. I hope you enjoyed yourself, mister, because you’re going to pay me for it. Now, get out of my sight.”

  Downs stared for a moment then spat on the ground. “You don’t deserve to wear the uniform, you piece of shit,” he said and turned to walk away. Still shaking, he found Tiger by the water bull.

  “Hey, nice move on the first shirt, Steve. I’ll be sure to visit you in the brig,” said Tiger.

  Downs attempted a smile and replied, “Yeah. Well, the asshole had it coming, that’s for sure. Anyway he would’ve found something else to bust me for. At least this way I had the pleasure of kicking him in the balls.”

  “Must’ve been an awful small target,” laughed Tiger.

  Downs smiled. “Yeah. It was, now that you mention it.” The two shared a conspiratorial laugh then Downs asked, “Tiger, are you sure there is no way to get him out alive? I mean really sure? If you’re close enough to hand him the pistol can’t you pull him out?”

  Before Downs had finished, Tiger was looking at the ground and shaking his head negatively. “I told you. There just ain’t no way. He’s jammed in between a bunch of huge slabs of concrete. We’re busting the edges off of a couple of slabs and we can get a hand through to him but it’s impossible to clear a real opening against all that hardened concrete without a jackhammer.” Tiger looked in the direction of the ruined BLT building. “Jesus, last I checked they were trying to get him to put his hand through the opening so they could give him a stick of morphine in one of his fingers.”

  “Maybe the morphine will help him hold on long enough for us to free him?” asked Downs hopefully.

  Again Tiger shook his head. “No dice, Steve. He’s refusing the morphine. Says he doesn’t want it.” Tiger paused. “You know why, man. He knows the morphine will only make him pass out for a little while, or just fuck up his coordination. He knows he has to stay clear to do himself. He’s a gritty son of a bitch, but nobody can blame him for wanting to end this. Nobody could take this, man.”

  Downs took a deep breath and drew the pistol from its holster and handed it to Tiger. “I guess there just isn’t any way out of this, is there?”

  “You said it yourself, Steve. We’ve got to do the right thing. He’s a decent guy and he ain’t gonna make it no way.”

  Downs nodded in a
cceptance. “Yeah. I know. Just I never thought anybody would get Sergeant Griffin. You know, Tiger?”

  “Yep. The fucker is bigger than life in a lot of ways,” said the diminutive Marine. Both of them looked toward the looming mound of rubble. “Guess there’s nothing left now but to do it.”

  “Yeah,” said Downs. “Tuck it under your flak jacket in the front and nobody will notice.”

  “Good idea,” answered Tiger as he put the muzzle of the barrel into the front of his trousers and hid the butt of the large pistol under his dirty flak jacket. “See you,” he said as he turned to go.

  “Hey, Tiger,” called Downs. “Tell Sergeant Griffin I said,” Downs hesitated, wondering what message he could send to Griffin down below in the rubble and choking dust. “Shit,” said Downs. “Just tell him I said hello, man.”

  Tiger paused. Wiping his face with a dirty hand he turned and faced Downs, “Fuck that, Steve. I’m gonna tell him you kicked the first shirt right in the balls and you’re going to the brig.” Downs smiled crookedly, not trusting his voice. Tiger made a slight thumbs-up motion and said, “Semper Fi, motherfucker,” and strode off in the direction of the tunnel.

  CHAPTER

  30

  Reckon they’ll have him out in a few minutes more, Corporal Downs,” said the staff sergeant. “Damn shame. He was a fine boy.”

  Downs nodded silently. The past seven days had been a nightmare of digging for survivors interrupted only by mortar attacks and sniping from an unseen enemy. The grim reality of the attack had emerged as they continued to pull bodies from the rubble night and day for a full week. Now nerves were frayed and tempers routinely flared at the smallest provocation.

  A rifle company had been air-lifted over from Camp Lejeune along with a replacement H&S company and the battalion had resumed normal operations within hours of the attack. The new H&S company had assumed tactical control of the rifle companies and dug itself in along the western runway.

  Downs and the squad had remained in place at the BLT compound in order to provide perimeter security and to assist in the rescue effort. For the initial forty-eight hours they had worked around the clock, dividing their time between digging and standing watch on the line. After the last survivor was pulled from the rubble, and the death of Griffin, the squad had grown dispirited. With each man pulled from the destroyed BLT building they had withdrawn further into themselves. By week’s end they were a group of individuals operating on sheer nerve, no longer responding to anything with real emotion.

  As the motor on the crane throttled up and lifted the last piece of concrete off, Downs caught a glimpse of Griffin. He silently signaled Samson, Smith, and Ferris to follow him down into the crater. The four worked in silence to put the body into the green plastic bag, then carried Griffin to the lip of the huge hole. As they gained the summit a Lebanese rescue worker reached out to take one of the handles from Downs and assist him up. Downs angrily shoved the man’s hand away and clambered out of the rubble.

  The rest of the squad stood by in silence as the staff sergeant nodded in the direction of the morgue and said, “Take him over to the tent, Corporal Downs. I’ll be along in a minute or two to see after his personal effects.” Downs and the others proceeded across the compound and laid the body bag outside the tent that had served as a morgue for the dead.

  All four edged away from the bag before Downs began, “Come on, Samson. Let’s go in the tent and get a toe tag from one of these guys. We can fill it out while we wait for Staff Sergeant Whitney.” Samson followed Downs toward the dark interior of the huge tent. As they stepped inside they both paused in the entry to allow their eyes time to adjust to the dim interior.

  Objects inside the tent slowly came into view and Samson and Downs could make out the rows of bodies, some not yet covered by ponchos. Downs also took in the first sergeant, his back to them, bent over a dead Marine collecting the man’s personal effects. He motioned to Samson to be quiet and the two edged farther into the tent along one of the canvas walls.

  They watched as the first sergeant removed the man’s wallet and letters from a cargo pocket in his utilities, then rifled through its contents. With a feeling of rising disgust Downs looked on in silence as the first sergeant removed the money from the wallet and added it to a large roll he extracted from his own trouser pocket.

  A glance passed between Downs and Samson before the bigger Marine removed his rifle from his shoulder and said, “You’ve had it, motherfucker. I’ll goddamn do you myself. Not even a fucking grave digger steals from the dead.” Downs glared at the man in silence as Samson leveled the muzzle of his rifle at the first sergeant.

  The first sergeant spun on one heel to face his accuser as Samson snapped the bolt forward on his rifle, chambering a round. “Who the fuck do you think you are, mister?” hissed the first sergeant. “How dare you enter my tent without asking permission! Get the fuck out. Now!”

  “Fuck you, asshole,” said Samson, the rifle menacingly coming to point at the first sergeant. “I’ll go to Leavenworth the rest of my life, but you ain’t gonna walk away from this. Besides, Downs saw you take the money. He can be my witness. We’ll just say you rushed us with your pistol. I saw the size of that roll. When they find that on your fuckin’ corpse they’ll know damn well what you been up to. You got more there than a first shirt pulls down in a year.”

  Downs watched as the first sergeant began to rise and move toward the far wall. “Okay, son. Now let’s all just calm down. Put that rifle away and I’ll forget this happened. It’s been a tough week for all of us. All of our nerves are frayed.” The first sergeant smiled somewhat hesitantly, and Downs realized that he had never before seen the man smile. “Come on, Corporal Downs,” he continued, “you must know that the lance corporal is making a mistake. You may not like me but you know I wouldn’t steal from a fellow Marine. Especially a dead man. No matter what you think of me you must know I wouldn’t do that. Right, son?”

  Downs crossed his arms across his chest and said, “I know what I saw. But why don’t you go ahead and give me your explanation. I’d sure as hell be curious to hear it.” Without losing eye contact with the man, Downs added, “If he even looks like he’s going for that pistol, or if you hear anybody coming Samson, just fuckin’ grease the piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve to live. Besides, I bet if we look at the paper for these guys’ personal effects not one of them will have more than twenty bucks listed to his name.”

  Downs saw a hunted look pass across the first sergeant’s eyes and knew he was right. The first sergeant shifted his gaze from Downs to Samson. Downs knew the man was trying to figure the odds. Attempting to gauge whether or not Samson would pull the trigger. “Oh, he’ll do it First Sergeant,” said Downs. “And nobody will question it much after the fact. Wouldn’t it just embarrass the shit out of the Marine Corps to have to admit that one of its lance corporals shot a senior staff NCO that he caught stealin’ from the dead in Beirut.”

  Downs laughed cynically, “I can see it now in the after action report. First Sergeant Schmucatelly was killed by the accidental discharge of another’s Marine’s weapon. That would save everybody a lot of embarrassment.”

  “Fine with me, Steve. I say we do the fucker right here and now.” Something in Samson’s tone let Downs know that he was deadly serious. From the periphery of his vision Downs was aware of Samson’s rifle tracking the first sergeant as he moved closer to the far wall of the tent. “Far enough, motherfucker,” said Samson, “you don’t need to get any closer to that hatch. And don’t worry, First Shirt. I got no problem with shooting you in your back if you try and make a break for it.”

  Downs looked on in silence as the first sergeant swallowed hard and began, “Look now, guys. It’s not like I was really stealin’ from these Marines. I was gonna take the money and see that it got back to their families. You boys don’t know how long things like that can be tied up in the red tape once we hit the States. It could take months for those families to see any of
their money if I just sit back and allow it to go through channels. I was just trying to take a few shortcuts for the sake of the families. That’s all. You must realize that I wouldn’t steal from these dead men.”

  Samson gave a short laugh and tightened his grip on the trigger. “You must think we’re the two stupidest sons of bitches in the Marine Corps if we’re gonna buy that load of crap,” he said.

  “Yeah, First Shirt. Maybe you better try again. Make us believers in the fucking Band of Brothers you’re always preaching about. Go ahead,” taunted Downs. “We got a few minutes to hear you out.”

  The first sergeant wiped his brow and straightened up to his full height. “Okay, boys. So I was fuckin’ up and you caught me at it. What’s the harm? These guys don’t need any money where they’re going. I got a wife and three kids back at Lejeune. You two got no idea what that does to a man’s resources. I have to scrimp and save for every nickel. All I was trying to do was pick up a few extra bucks without hurting anybody. None of these men is even married. So mom and pop back home won’t get Johnny’s last paycheck to blow on beer and pretzels. They got thirty-five thousand coming from Uncle Sam anyway for a death gratuity. They’ll never miss a few bucks the kid had in his pocket to play poker with on Saturday night.”

  Downs and Samson stood impassively while the first sergeant continued, “Look guys, it’s not like I’m not willing to cut you two in on it. Now you guys been out on the line and you’re tired and so maybe you’re not thinking as clear as you normally would. You shoot me, Samson, and the best you can hope for is leniency from the court-martial board. Probably both of you will do a pretty long stint in the brig. What good is that going to do for anybody here?”

  The first sergeant looked from one Marine to the other, then continued, “What I’m proposing is that we all benefit from this. I’ve got quite a bit of cash here and I’m willing to split it equally between the three of us. We’ll all go home winners in a few weeks and nobody is the wiser. And nobody gets hurt. Not really. The families got more money coming than they’ll be able to spend. Think about it guys. Is it worth it to shoot me over something like this and ruin the rest of your lives because you don’t like me?”