Pup

by Christopher Slater

  It took just a little bit longer than I thought for my squad to put their plan into motion, but since I knew something was going to happen, it was easy for me to spot it when it did. The bottom of the tent was lifted up a few inches and an arm reached in and began searching around. I stifled a laugh as the arm fumbled for several seconds before locating my towel and clothes, grabbing them, and pulling them back underneath the tent. I nodded and continued my shower. Just a few seconds later, the door opened and Boom and Rabbit walked in. They pretended not to notice I was there and proceeded to the showers on the opposite side of the tent. They positioned themselves so that I would not be able to leave the tent without being in their full view. The trap had been set.

  I expected the two of them to just stay there and wait for me to exit the shower, but then they did something I truly didn’t expect. They prepared to take showers themselves. As soon as I realized that they were removing their uniforms, I turned around and pretended to be washing the back of my hair. Don’t get me wrong; I was a young man who found both of these women attractive, but I was also raised with manners. These manners told me that if I were to try and watch these women that my mother would find out about it and beat me with a telephone pole until she felt better. So in the battle of hormones vs. manners, manners scored the first goal.

  I heard the other showers begin and then tried to think through the next step. My decision of what to do was made for me when a blast of cold water hit my skin. Before realizing what I had done, I let out a yelp and turned off the water. Finally acknowledging my existence, Rabbit called across the tent, “Each shower only has three minutes of hot water, Pup. Better learn to shower faster.”

  Now the trap had been sprung. My shower was over, and there was no way for me to leave the tent without being seen by the two women in there. This was how they intended to get me over my self-consciousness that they worried could hinder me in the field. To make matters worse, with my clothes and towel gone I was going to have to go halfway across the compound to get to my bunk and a uniform. It had been a well thought-out plan. If only they had remembered about sound traveling through tent walls.

  I stepped out of my shower soaking wet and made my way to the exit. I heard both Boom and Rabbit turn off their showers. I walked into their field of view, and they started to call out, “Hey, Pup! How’s it . . .” They both stopped as soon as they saw me. I stood there, dripping water on the floor, in my soaking wet boxer shorts. I was still a little more exposed than I was comfortable with, but I just kept telling myself that it was like a pair of swimming trunks. A good ten seconds passed as the two women looked at me and realized that they had been outmaneuvered. A look of slight admiration passed over Rabbit’s features before she leaned against the shower partition and said, “Well played, Pup. Well played.” Boom even gave me a brief round of applause.

  I inclined my head in acknowledgement and exited the tent. Outside, other members of my squad waited, prepared to force me out of my shy nature. They all reacted with silence as I walked out of the tent with at least a modicum of clothing. I walked up to Jethro, who was standing there with a slightly stunned look on his face and his arms full, holding my towel and uniform. I took them from him and began drying my hair. “Thanks a lot,” I said as I began to walk off. “I’d hate to drip on my bunk.” I smiled all of the way back to my tent as they argued about how I had pulled one over on them. I wore boxers in the shower for the remainder of my deployment. Just in case.

  And now it’s time to see the elephant . . .

  җ

  I really wouldn’t have minded more time to get used to life at Camp Wildcat. I think that, given the opportunity, I might have been able to get used to it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t there with the Boy Scouts. I was there with the US Army, and they don’t sing songs or teach you how to make a campfire, and they don’t tend to send you somewhere unless you have a job to do there. Our job was to fight. The day after The Great Shower Victory, Hannibal called the squad together for a briefing. I listened with a certain amount of apprehension as he spread a map out and began explaining our mission. “OK, children, as most of you know we are approaching harvest time in Korea. If the enemy holds true to past patterns, they will become very active during the harvest.”

  “Why?” I blurted out without thinking.

  Hannibal looked at me with slight annoyance for the interruption, but I was surprised that there was no trace of annoyance in his voice when he asked, “Why do you think, Pup?”

  I thought that he was asking a rhetorical question. I usually don’t catch the hints when people do that, so I was kind of proud of myself when I decided to stay quiet. I should have known better. I realized that he actually wanted me to answer when he made an impatient gesture for me to hurry up. I tried to snap my brain into gear. “Well . . . uh . . . the farmers have to be in their fields.”

  “No shit,” he replied. “What does that have to do with an enemy offensive?”

  I was scared to answer, but I had already opened the door. I had to walk through it. “Well, if there are civilians in the field, then we can’t simply carpet-bomb an area or use drone strikes without killing a lot of civilians. So the enemy can move through the farming areas with the knowledge that one of our best assets is partially neutralized.”

  Hannibal shook his head. “Pup, you make me wonder if smart people really exist.” I hung my head a little, disappointed. “You took three or four sentences to explain what could have been said in one. The farmers get in the way. Basically, the FNG is right.” I perked up at that. I had gotten it right! I had a huge smile on my face when I looked at Hannibal. He was still stone-faced and looked hungry. I immediately stopped smiling and unconsciously put my hand over my nose. “We aren’t going to wait for an offensive. We are going to sweep through these areas and rout enemy forces before the harvest.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “Birds will drop us off here. We will be the northernmost squad. The tip of the arrow. The rest of our platoon will be angled on our left flank and a platoon from Camp Aggie will be on our right flank. We sweep northward and push back any enemy forces we encounter. Any questions?” I had a million. Most of them had to do with food, sleep, and survival. Something told me it was smart not to ask them. For once, I listened to that little voice in my head.

  Hannibal folded up the map and then looked at each of us. He seemed to be evaluating our readiness for deployment. He had a mild look of disappointment when he looked at me. Honestly, I was used to it. My therapist seems to give me the same look whenever we end a session. Quack. “Good. Draw supplies for three days of marching. If we are out there any longer the birds will resupply us. This is going to be straight grunt work. No vehicles, just using our feet, our eyes, our ears, and if necessary, our trigger fingers. The Professor and his aide will be with us on this patrol. I expect everyone’s best, and for you all to keep an eye on the FNG. We may see the elephant, and I don’t want him freezing up on us. We take off in two hours. Dismissed!” I started to walk off when I felt a steel grip on my shoulder. It was Hannibal. “Pup, the first time that you salute the LT on this mission, I will kick you in the kidneys.” At least he didn’t threaten to eat them. I nodded and walked off. I started to wonder if I was more likely to get hurt in combat or in my own squad.

  I received my next surprise while we were preparing our gear. Jethro walked up and grabbed my carbine from me. “I’ll turn this in for you, hoss. You get to carry this beast.” I watched in dismay as my nice, lightweight carbine was carried off. It was replaced with a big, hulking squad automatic weapon and all of the accompanying ammunition.

  Let me see if I can paint the picture for those of you who do not know about the military weapons we were carrying. A carbine is, in essence, a short rifle. It is nice and lightweight and convenient. It weighs about seven pounds when loaded. A squad automatic is supposed to provide covering fire for the whole squad. It is larger, heavier, and carries a lot more ammuniti
on. Fully loaded, it’s about twenty-two pounds. Plus it goes through ammunition a lot faster, so you have to carry a lot more with you. My weapons load just tripled. I turned to Nickel to protest, but he explained before I could even ask. “One of the perks of being the FNG, Pup. It helps build character and muscle.” He suddenly turned serious. “It also means that we are all depending on you to keep the bad guys off our asses. Don’t screw it up.” So basically, no pressure.

  I reconfigured my equipment for the squad auto and packed my rucksack for a three-day patrol. It always surprises me how much can be involved in keeping you alive and moving for just three days. By the time I was done packing up, I was certain that the pack weighed as much as I did. I had it sitting on a table with the shoulder straps facing me so I could put it on more easily. I decided to test it out and make sure that everything was nice and comfortable. I put the shoulder straps on, fastened the support straps, and then slid the rucksack off of the table. The next thing that I felt was a severe pain in my backside. I shook stars from my sight and took stock of my situation. I was sitting on the ground with my legs straight out in front of me. I deduced that I had fallen straight down as soon as the full weight of my ruck had been placed on my shoulders.

  Hannibal and Rabbit showed up on either side of me. Without a word they both reached down and grabbed my harness with both hands. In what I considered a feat of strength worthy of Hercules, they pulled me straight up into a standing position. I stared at them in slack-jawed awe for a few moments before I finally placed my feet firmly on the ground. Hannibal looked over at Rabbit, nodded, and they both released my harness. I remained vertical for about three more seconds. After that I had fallen backward onto my rucksack and began to squirm like a turtle turned onto its shell. I heard several others laughing at my predicament. I can’t blame them. I have no doubt that I looked stupid. I also have no doubt that if they had chosen to leave me there like that, I would have still been in the same position three days later when they returned.

  Hannibal and Rabbit, who didn’t look so amused, reached down and hauled me back up again. Once I was vertical again, Hannibal looked over at Rabbit and grumbled, “Fix him!” before he let go of my harness. I stumbled a little under the added weight, but Rabbit still had ahold of me and managed to keep me from falling once again.

  I tried to get control of my balance, but the added weight and my lack of coordination caused me to fail miserably. “How am I supposed to walk like this?” I asked. I didn’t whine. Really, I didn’t. I don’t care what anybody says!

  “Are all smart guys as stupid as you?” Rabbit was still holding me up, and I could tell she was getting sick of it.

  “No,” I answered honestly.

  “Hunch forward,” she instructed. I hunched my back forward. The weight of the rucksack continued to press down on me, but my center of gravity had shifted enough so that I wasn’t falling backward. “The weight will improve as the days go by and you dispose of some of your stuff.”

  I stood there for a few moments just making certain that I was going to be able to stand on my own. A few experimental steps showed that it was possible. “This isn’t very comfortable.” Honestly, I never whine!

  Rabbit gathered up her own gear as she replied. “What has ever happened to you that makes you think the army gives a damn about your comfort?” I thought about that and was forced to agree. Everything that we had and used was functional. It all performed its task properly. However, none of it was designed for physical or aesthetic (another word I’ve been dying to use!) comfort. I looked around and noticed most of the other soldiers around me were also hunched over under the weight of their rucksacks, although not nearly as much as I was. Maybe they’d just packed less. Yeah. That must’ve been it. “Grab your weapon and get to the bird,” Rabbit ordered. “We’ve got a long three days ahead of us.”

  I walked around a few tents with all my gear and weapons to try and get used to it. I came to the simple conclusion that it sucked. There was no comfortable way to walk with everything that I had. Don’t get me wrong. I could do it. I just didn’t like it. I began to equate wearing my gear with eating my vegetables. It might be necessary, but that didn’t mean I would smile while doing it. Worse, I couldn’t feed my gear to my dog. I should have never drawn that parallel. I didn’t eat vegetables for another two years. I think that my mother actually threw one of those duck fits that Jethro kept talking about.

  One good thing about the whole situation was that even I knew when it was time to leave. Multiple helicopters began circling Camp Wildcat like birds of prey. They were impossible to miss because they were as loud as my older sister’s music. I took that as a cue to move to the landing pads on one side of the base. Once there, I found all of the members of my squad and lined up with the ones I knew. Hannibal was walking down the line and checking to make certain that everyone had their gear squared away and was ready for the patrol. When he got to me I noticed that he seemed to be a little less rough when moving some straps or checking to make sure things were secure. Apparently he didn’t feel like picking me up again if he were to knock me over. He took a look at my arm and noticed the “K-9 Killer” patch. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. With a face like his, it was hard to tell the difference. “At least if we get attacked by Lassie we know you can protect us,” he muttered before moving farther down the line.

  I spent a few minutes double-checking my own weapon and any gear I could reach until I heard Hannibal shout that we were next. With some apprehension, I turned with everyone else in my squad to watch the helicopter land with its side doors already open. I promptly remembered all of my kindergarten lessons and followed the person in front of me as we boarded the bird. Jump seats. Yay. As if my back weren’t already in pain, now I was going to endure torment worthy of the Spanish Inquisition. I didn’t have time to dwell on it as the person behind me pushed me forward. I went to the next open seat and strapped in, still wearing my rucksack. I looked around and noticed that I was the only one that was strapped in. I never figured out if that was because I was the only one skinny enough to fit in the harness with my rucksack or if I was the only one convinced that I was going to fall out of the helicopter. We managed to board the helicopter pretty quickly before we took off with a lurch.

  Several thoughts competed for my attention as I took off for my first patrol. I thought about what I should expect when I faced combat for the first time. I ran through the immediate action drills for my weapon. I wondered if a supply drop would include fresh toilet paper. I noticed that the side doors were left open (yikes!). I remembered with great fear that I had not packed any snore strips. I realized that Boom looked incredible even when wearing a helmet (stupid hormones!). And I also remembered that I hated flying and that it usually made me sick. Add to that fear the previously mentioned fact that the side doors were wide open, and all of my previous thoughts lost the competition for my attention as I tried to control a wave of vertigo and trembling.

  I floundered for something to take my mind off of the entire flying situation. I looked out the doorway at the beautiful landscape passing by. This worked for about six seconds before my brain latched on to the fact that I could see so much of the beautiful landscape because I was flying over it in a helicopter with wide open doors! I tried focusing on the door gunners and imagining their job and the power of firing those huge miniguns. That worked until one of them thought I was staring at him too much and told me to mind my own damned business. Finally, I looked at where I was sitting. Rabbit was on my right, and Boom was right in front of me. That gave me an opportunity to ask a question I had been wondering for the past day. “How did you know?” I shouted over the sound of the wind and rotors.

  Rabbit and Boom looked at me, then at each other, then back at me, then back to each other again. Do I seriously confuse people that much? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. Boom finally shouted back, “How did we know what?”

&n
bsp; “How did you know that I wouldn’t look when you went to the showers?”

  Boom looked at me like I was an idiot. Trust me. I know that look well. “We didn’t. We expected that you would look.”

  I tried to digest that for a minute, but my brain couldn’t wrap around it. Thankfully, Rabbit came to my brain’s rescue. “That was the whole point, Pup. We are going to be living together in the field, and you have got to get over your stupid hormones and embarrassment!”

  Boom spoke up again. “When we’re in the field, survival is all that is important. I promise that you won’t give a damn what is underneath this uniform when you’re facing down an enemy ambush. I can guarantee that I won’t care what you look like when we are in the middle of combat.” There must have been a subtle change in my expression because Boom’s face took on a dark tone. “I don’t care what you look like outside of combat either! I swear! What is it with men?” That brought our conversation to a rather abrupt end.

  “Are you starting to understand what I mean about you thinking things through too much?” I almost jumped out of my seat. The only thing that kept me from startling myself straight out of the wide open door (seriously, why don’t they close those damned things?) was the fact that I was harnessed to the seat. I hadn’t even realized that the Professor was sitting next to me. He smiled and waited for my pulse to return to something less than that of a hummingbird’s before continuing. “There was a simple lesson in what happened, but rather than learn it you decided to analyze it.”

  “But that’s what helped me succeed in school and get into college.”

  Still smiling, the Professor pointed at my uniform, then at my weapon, and then out the door. I looked at everywhere he pointed except for out the door. I had seen enough of that. “Does this look like a classroom to you? Don’t misunderstand me. I’ve got no problems with intellectuals. I like to consider myself one. But there is a time and a place for it, and this is neither. War is complex. Fighting is simple. It comes down to survival. You can talk about the war when you get home. Here, you have to fight.” His smile was gone, and he was looking at me like a teacher to a student. I understood his nickname more with each conversation. “Now get your fangs out. It’s time to go hunting.”