The Waite and Daniels came back escorting the others while supporting one soldier between them who could not walk unassisted.
“Everyone else looks fine, but this guy looks to have at least a bad concussion, if not a broken skull. He can't even walk,” Waite said.
“We better have Dave look at him. Dave used to be a medic in the Gulf,” Joe said to the Lieutenant.
“I'm really sorry. Dang. I hope he's ok,” Joe said, looking concerned for the soldier he had hit with the butt of his rifle from behind.
At nine plus pounds a Mosin packed a wallop.
Joe told them to wait for a second if they valued their health, and went up on the front porch alone.
“Kiss My Aunt Sandra Sue,” Joe loudly called out the pre-arranged pass-phrase agreed on earlier that day.
Sue opened the door, and let him in. Shortly, Dave ran out and examined the injured soldier, first probing the bump on the back of his head with a finger and then examining the soldiers eyes.
“Skull's not fractured. However his pupils are both dilated and uneven. Concussion definitely. Joe must have hit him hard,” Dave said to the Lieutenant.
“Figures,” the Sergeant replied.
“Them old world war two rifles weigh a ton.”
“Get him inside, and keep him awake,” Dave stated to Waite.
“Your man needs medical attention, Lieutenant. If the swelling gets too bad,” he finished, leaving the obvious ending unstated.
“Joe. I need you to come with me,” the Sergeant stated bluntly.
“Am I in trouble Sergeant?” Joe asked softly while imagining a prison sentence, or worse.
“No son. I talked to the Lieutenant, and he agreed that if you were as good as I said you were, we both figured you could do some training at the base and give us an edge,” the Sergeant replied.
“I think you demonstrated that adequately enough.”
“You don't have to Joe, but I think you would be able to help us a lot. Can you spare us a week?” the Lieutenant asked.
“Can you provide some toys for my friends, and guarantee their safety?” Joe asked in reply.
“Yes, I think that can be arranged,” the Lieutenant said, “Do you people need food or medicine? We have plenty of MRE's”
“Ask Dave about the medicine, as he is our doc. As for Meals Refused by Ethiopians, do you like venison?” Joe asked with a grin.
“How about beef? Maybe lamb? African wildebeest stew is pretty good too. Just got one, day before yesterday, and we have left unders.”
“Wildebeest?” the Lieutenant asked, disbelieving.
“All sorts of animals getting loose from a zoo somewhere near here,” the Sergeant replied.
“Saw a giraffe couple days ago. Lost a man to an African lion couple of weeks past.”
“Soldiers, that man is hurt bad. Quit jawing or I will pull rank,” Dave said.
“Pull rank?” the Lieutenant questioned.
“Still have a reserve rank of Captain bud. That's sir to you,” Dave said grinning.
“If they pull you out of reserve, then I will call you sir,” the Sergeant said in a drill voice.
“Technically he already is back in service, Sergeant. Martial law has been in effect for two weeks now.”
“However, he technically is not in the chain of command until he reports in.”
“I dub thee sir ****head,” Zeb barked snidely to Dave.
“Just proves a point. They will take anything that can walk and salute,” he said with a grin.
“Figures. I will remember this Zeb. I hope you like potatoes,” Dave replied.
“Well, considering the situation, we will leave you now, and get our man to the base hospital. I will leave my Corporal here in command of your men, Sergeant. Get my men and Joe ready to go in five. I want you to come with me Zeb.”
The Sergeant barked some orders, and two of the Lieutenant's privates loaded the injured man and climbed into the Humvee, with one manning the big machine-gun.
“You two keep your eye peeled. You are sorry excuses for privates the way we pulled you into the trap today. It’s not going to happen on my watch, am I clear?” Zeb asked rhetorically.
“Let's. Go. Joe,” the Sergeant rhymed.
Joe, the Sergeant, and the Lieutenant all loaded up and the hummer left.
“Waite, how long are they gone for, and why did they take Joe?” Sue asked, coming out onto the front porch.
She looked worried.
“Remember what Joe taught us? Well, he worked out a deal where he would get you guys some stuff. He’s going to teach it to the boys on base. A week or so I guess,” Waite replied with a reassuring look to ease her evident concern.
“Joe's not in any trouble.”
“Not until that guy gets out of the hospital that is. He is going to be one mad soldier with the headache he will have,” Dave chuckled.
“I already am,” Hewitt replied, rubbing the oval shaped mark on the side of his face.
“I didn't even hear him coming!”
“One quick question Corporal,” Dave barked.
“Sir, Yes Sir!” Hewitt said, standing to attention.
“Answer me this question. Why is it, Corporal, that Lieutenants are always running around playing war-games with their Privates?”
Dave asked the question with a stern look while keeping his face grave. Inside he was barely holding in the laughter.
“Oh honey, give the poor guy a break,” Sue stated.
“Besides sweety, you really aren’t that funny you know.”
“I think I am hilarious, I’ll have you know!” he replied with mock indignation.
17. (Fight or Flight)
After two weeks, Sue was getting really worried about Joe and the Zeb. Had they gotten into trouble on the way there, or maybe even on the way back? Did they have vehicle problems and were having to hike here on foot? Were they even alive?
Corporal Hewitt had informed everyone that there was no activity of any kind to be seen for twenty miles in any direction, and he all thought it would be safe for a fire. Dave was outside splitting firewood in case cold weather came sooner than expected. Once winter hit, they would have no choice but to risk lighting the fireplace for heat.
Sue wanted to cry on Dave's shoulder and be comforted, sharing her worry and concern with him. She felt small and alone. She was standing at the sink staring through the window at the road and crying silently, when a light touch hit her shoulder.
“Are you ok Sue?” private Waite asked.
Without thinking, Sue swung around and buried her face in his shoulder, not noticing the slight tensing of his muscles or now racing pulse. Unknown to everyone, he had developed a bad crush on Sue when they first met, and it had only been getting worse since. Sue was all he could think of, and she just thought he was a very nice man. He wrapped his arms around her, and stroked her shoulders.
“Everything is fine Sue, it will be ok,” he murmured softly into her hair.
Normally, red flags would have been going off in Sue's mind. Right now she just wanted held, and Dave was not available. She was not thinking logically, but emotionally. With all the work that had to be done before winter set in, everyone had either been working solid or sleeping for the entire last week.
Waite's hand slipped lower to the small of her back and she stiffened, the situation suddenly focusing in her mind. Many bad traits she may have, but nowhere was unfaithfulness in the list. She became worried.
“What do you think you are doing?” she said, starting to push away from Waite.
Waite did not see Dave standing in the doorway with a double bitted axe in his hand. He would have ran had he seen Dave, a clouded face turning to rage, body leaning slightly forward in an unconsciously aggressive posture. Thankfully the axe slipped slowly out of his hand, the head gently touching the floor and the handle making only a tiny thunk as it tipped against the door. Even with the sound, neither Waite nor Sue saw Dave.
“Let go of me
!” Sue said firmly, as Waite’s hand grabbed lower.
“Let me go!” Sue screamed, fear entering in to her voice as Waite refused to let go, his hand starting to wander and grope.
When it is obvious that your mate or children are in danger... something happens.
The adrenaline valve in your brain sticks open, dumping adrenaline into the system. If a little flows, you feel strong and can run like the wind. A massive dose and you feel like superman. If the valve sticks wide open and does not stop dumping…
Something snapped in Dave at the tone in Sue's voice. Red crept into his vision, and his thinking mind took a temporary vacation. He didn’t think, he acted.
In one bounding rush, he was behind Waite and then grabbed the back of his BDU's. With one heave he bodily threw the private across the room and into the wall, leaving a crater in the plaster. As Waite tried to get up, Dave was there. No thoughts at all were going through Dave's mind, just an ever present unconscious need to protect his mate amidst a wash of pure and unreasoning rage.
Waite tried hard to protect himself, hitting Dave as hard as he could, followed instantly by a counter kick to the midsection. What followed scared him more than a hand grenade with no pin lying in his bunk could have accomplished.
Dave's expression contorted with the pain of the blows and he screamed a bear's roar of challenge. His mouth formed a grimace of rage and he kept coming, and Waite was starting to lose the battle. Waite found himself not being able to block the punches anymore, his strength gone. Every blow Dave was dishing out was like a sledgehammer against his body. Waite felt a rib crack, and then a massive blast against his head, and the lights went out.
Sue saw what was happening and was terrified. She had never seen Dave react this way to anything before and didn't know what to think. One thing was obvious. Dave was going to kill the private with his bare hands.
Sue ran outside to find help and almost knocked over Hewitt, who had heard Dave's bellow and had come running along with the others.
“Get Dave off of Waite, before he kills him. Please hurry,” Sue screamed at Hewitt.
“And please don't hurt him.”
It required all of the soldiers and the two boys to pull Dave off of the now unconscious and bloody Waite. In his rage he threw them off like rag dolls, and returned to the focus of his intense anger. He was protecting his mate, and this state of mind is anything but civilized.
Finally the trio of soldiers managed to subdue the wildman. They held Dave immobile for what seemed like hours before his eyes finally focused on Hewitt and he calmed down enough that they felt safe letting him go. It had been difficult enough just to get him immobilized in the first place, as Hewitt had been tossed against the sink like a toy.
The soldiers had worried initially about hurting him, discovering quickly it was not him getting hurt that was the problem. Daniels was now sporting a very large and very black shiner along with a huge bruise to the side of his head. The entire right side of his face was purple, and his right eye slowly swelling shut. Hewitt felt his ribs and wondered if any were broken as it hurt to breathe, and his face felt funny. Cross had a slight limp.
Kyle was sitting in a chair bent over and holding his stomach. Trying to help, he had gotten kicked accidentally by Hewitt and all he could do was sit there groaning. Jonas was just standing, staring at his dad in complete shock.
Sue could be heard sobbing somewhere on the back porch.
“You ok now Dave? Can we let you go?” Hewitt asked around his fat lip, where Dave had head-butted him after he got back into the fray after being slammed against the sink.
Waite lay motionless across the room from the tangled men, still lying on the floor, either unconscious or dead.
“Yes. Just get your hands off of me,” Dave replied.
“Where is Sue. Is she ok?” he asked in sudden panic.
“Sue’s fine Dave. What happened man?” Daniels asked.
“Waite. He had her. Wouldn't let her go. Touching her. Sue screamed,” Dave rambled, the residual adrenaline still fuzzing his brain.
“All I remember. Why are you guys on top of me? I'm so tired.”
His memory started coming back into focus, and the rage began to return.
“Where is that sonofa******?” Dave yelled, but looked sharply at Hewitt as the Corporal’s hand rested on his arm.
“You already took care of it Dave,” Hewitt said calmly.
“We will finish it from here Dave,” Cross responded, his voice also a paragon of calmness.
However the private placed himself alongside the Corporal between Dave and the unconscious Waite. Dave relaxed, and they let him go. Dave saw Waite lying motionless on the floor with a small pool of blood by his mouth.
“What happened to him?” he asked, not remembering anything about the fight at all.
“You did buddy... You happened to him,” Cross stated,
“Remind me never to get you pissed off at me!”
During the excitement, not one person on the farm was standing watch and they had all missed the military convoy which had just pulled into the driveway.
Their first indication was the roar of engines followed by the sudden opening and closing of doors and commands ringing in the cool air. Not knowing what was going on, Cross ran to the carpet blinds that had been put up in the living room and cautiously peeked out. He cussed profusely, and dashed back into the kitchen to report to Corporal Hewitt.
Sue's sobbing was suddenly and mysteriously absent. A shadow crossed the room from the door, and a gruff voice rang out.
“Hewitt, I hope you like being a PFC. Where is the watch? Not one lousy man on watch!” the Sergeant roared, fire in his eyes.
“We could have shot every one of you stinking pansy pantywaists at our leisure!”
“But Sergeant... We had a problem…” Hewitt started.
“I don't give a flyin' flip what problem you had. We ain’t playing a stinking video game. Always have a man on guard!” Zeb yelled through the screen from the front porch.
Opening the screen door and witnessing the carnage of all concerned, the Sergeant could not believe his eyes. It looked like the aftermath of a biker bar-room brawl. One wall had the plaster caved in between the studs, and blood was everywhere.
The wall across the room behind the still motionless Waite had fist sized holes here and there where Dave had swung and missed. The sink and its countertop was at an odd angle. One of the cabinet doors was half off its hinges, the door itself cracked and the top hinge destroyed.
“Just what in the hell?” Zeb asked, his voice ominously low and dangerous.
“Waite attacked Sue,” Dave said.
“We had to save Waite from Dave,” Cross broke in with his two bits.
The Sergeant looked at Waite while listening to the disjointed explanation.
“Attacked Sue? What in the … Ahhhh,” he stated with initial confusion, but quickly coming to an unwanted understanding.
“Check him. If he is alive, wake him up and put him under arrest,” Zeb ordered, his face hard as diamond.
Dave stumbled over to the downed man, and checked his pulse.
“He’s alive”, he stated, then left to get the medical kit.
“Come get me when he is conscious,” the Sergeant barked, then turned and walked out of the room.
18. (Judgment and Mercy)
Dave demonstrated something to everyone present, and more-so to himself. What had been shown was not pretty. He acted and then reacted, neither thinking nor concerned about his actions in the heat of the moment.
The one who saved lives and was proud of the fact had tried to brutally take a life with his bare hands. Conditions and circumstance can take their toll upon any man, and he discovered that things can escalate out of any sane control.
The right impulse can override the civilized mundane and otherwise controlled emotions, and invoke those terrible and frightening barbaric emotions which lurk deep and out of sight, hidden silently wit
hin. Every man shares them, and can succumb to their powerful embrace, no matter their private view of themselves.
But for every action taken, there is an equal price which must be paid, good or bad. Waite learned that every evil thought allowed to fester, like a cut full of bacteria will lead eventually to an infection of the whole mind. Natural progression leads to an action which is then regrettable, which when done cannot be undone. Dave learned that civilization can be stripped away in a moment, and that none is immune to violence.
Supposedly civilized behavior is trained into a person from birth. It is a veneer, which must be held in place by choice, as it covers those things which are natural but unpleasant. Lose this veneer and you can ask Dave the results. His first sight of Waite laying on the floor will haunt him for the rest of his days.
Surviving in America: Under Siege 2nd Edition Page 10