Pup

by Christopher Slater

  My quack therapist loves this part. He seems to think that the view of the bombed-out landscape was some kind of psychological turning point for me, triggering both a survival instinct as well as a sympathetic connection to my fellow man. Why couldn’t I have gotten a job like his? I could string a whole bunch of words together that make me sound like I have a clue and charge people eighty bucks an hour for it. Someone remind me to cancel my next appointment.

  Quack therapist aside, it was a life-changing sight. On the other side of the mountain was a wide, beautiful valley. There were crops being grown that were ready for harvest, and off in the distance I even saw a small village that looked like it was straight out of a theme park, but almost directly ahead of us was the sight of the bombing. There was little to no green to be seen. Everything was a charred black. There were deep craters in the ground as if a meteor shower had hit only that one spot on the earth. Several vehicles, some civilian but most obviously military, were charred or still burning. It seemed like nothing over three feet tall was still standing. I had to clamp down on the part of my brain that pointed out that most people were over three feet tall. The sight was, in a word, terrifying. And we started marching down the mountain toward it.

  We didn’t march long. As we began our descent, I saw something in the distance that didn’t seem right. I couldn’t stop to try and take a more analytic look, but I filed it away in my mind. We continued our descent, and my attention was drawn to the same spot about thirty seconds later. This time I did stop. My brain was trying to process what was wrong with that picture. Was it my imagination? Was I seeing things? That was when I saw it again. That was when things got bad.

  Now I will be the first to admit that I am not a man of the world. I can’t talk about a whole bunch of exotic stuff with firsthand knowledge. While I had read a lot about Korea and knew its history and geography, I also knew that there was a lot of stuff there that I had never experienced and would find nowhere else in the world. However, despite the inherent exotic nature of the locale, even I knew that a bush shouldn’t move from one spot to another.

  “Pup! Keep moving!” Jethro called to me in a loud whisper.

  Without thinking about it, I pointed toward the moving bush and shouted, not whispered, shouted, “Contact front!”

  About that time the world exploded all around me. Everyone in my squad raised their weapons and opened fire on the enemy formation concealed ahead of us. The enemy formation returned the favor. I learned a very important difference between video games and real combat right then. In video games, you usually know you are being shot at when tracers fly past or you hear someone shouting a stock phrase in a foreign language at you. In combat, you know you are being shot at when you feel the bullet whiz past you. Yes, I said feel, not hear. Unlike some of my favorite shows and movies, you know that those bullets can’t be set for stun, either. Some people who play video games try to stay alive by jumping a lot. Believe me when I say that when the real fighting starts, you try to make yourself as short as a munchkin and are permanently rooted to the ground. Don’t bother jumping. You’ll just die dumb.

  I’m not going to go into a lot of detail about the engagement. I’m not trying to tell some big war story. I will say that I’m not sure if I had a true thought during the entire fight. The only thing that I had were reactions that I didn’t even know were part of my mental repertoire. I guess training did teach me more than peeling potatoes and doing push-ups. I simply responded to everything that I saw and heard. When I heard a member of my squad announce that they were going to move or advance, I directed covering fire to help them out. I made certain that my squad didn’t get far ahead of me. Whenever I heard the Professor give orders to another squad, I mentally noted where he said they were so that I could be sure not to send fire their way. I took cover when I was told to take cover, advanced when I was told to advance, and I wet my pants. That last part wasn’t the result of any orders or training. I’m pretty sure that it happened after I felt that first bullet pass by.

  I also don’t see any good reason to describe what I saw during the fight. I think that we can all agree that it was disgusting and horrible. I don’t actually think I saw much of it during the fight. At that time, my head was on a swivel, and I was too busy trying to survive to worry about whether what I was seeing was real or special effects. After the fight was when I probably saw the first grisly results of combat. Yes, it haunts me. How could it not? Note to self: don’t cancel next therapy appointment . . . but he’s still a quack.

  I don’t know how long our part of the fight lasted, but by the time we were done the sun was going down, I had missed lunch, and we were at the bottom of the mountain and into the blast radius of the bombing run. I guess that I knew it was over when I saw a group of fifteen North Koreans approaching us with their arms raised and a white flag in their hands. It occurred to me that the surrendering soldiers outnumbered the squad that they were surrendering to. Of course, we had held the high ground and they’d had about a million tons of explosives dropped on their heads. I reckoned that I would’ve been ready to surrender at that point as well.

  While Jethro, Nickel, and Hannibal secured the prisoners, the Professor walked up to me, still talking on his radio. Once he was finished, he clapped a hand down onto my shoulder and said, “Well, Pup, all of our platoon is in this valley, the platoon from Camp Tiger inflicted heavy damage on the enemy, and the SoKos are pursuing the retreating North Koreans. Congratulations. You just saw the elephant. You made it through your first battle.”

  When I answered, my voice was croaking. I don’t think I had spoken without shouting for the past several hours. “Do you mean that it’s over?”

  The Professor nodded. “That’s right, son. You’ve survived your first taste of combat.” I nodded, thought about what he just said, and then promptly puked what I can only assume was the beef jerky I’d had for breakfast onto the ground.

  OK . . . breathe . . . no, seriously, you have to breathe . . .

  җ

  If there is one thing that I have found out about adrenaline it is that it should never be turned into a drug. It may cause you to achieve things that you never thought possible, but coming down off of it is evil. After losing my breakfast, I got a severe case of the shakes and had trouble catching my breath. I actually remember gasping out that I couldn’t breathe. With something like amused patience, the Professor told me, “What do you think that noise you’re making is?” Damn that guy was good. That bit of logic pierced right through my bubble of panic and I immediately stopped gasping for air. I was still shaking though, and my knees were weak for reasons well beyond the weight of the rucksack, especially since I and the rest of the squad had dumped our rucksacks before the fighting began. Oh crap, I thought. I’m gonna have to go halfway back up the mountain to collect my gear. I let out a groan of annoyance and fatigue and slumped against the hood of a burnt-out Hyundai. The Professor gestured to me and said, “Rabbit, watch him.”

  Rabbit walked over to me with an air of frustration. Once she realized that she didn’t have to watch me because I’d screwed something up, most of that annoyance evaporated. She leaned against the hood beside me and waited silently as the shaking slowly receded. When she spoke up again, it was in the most normal tone I had ever heard her use. There was no command in her voice, no sarcasm, no attempt to separate her behavior from mine. It was the friendliest thing that she had ever done for me. “It usually happens like this the first time. It won’t hit as hard next time. Some people try to hide the crash. Some think that it’s worth the crash to experience the rush. I just figure it’s a necessary part of survival. Nothing to feel bad about.”

  Rabbit was looking off into the distance at nothing in particular. I turned to her and said, “I threw up my breakfast.” What I still don’t understand is how I could have ever been confused about why I couldn’t get a girlfriend in high school. I would think that comments like that woul
d have made it plain even to me.

  Much to my surprise, Rabbit smiled and even let out a little laugh. She reached into one of the cargo pockets on her uniform, pulled out a granola bar, and handed it over to me. I don’t know if I even thanked her before tearing open the wrapper and attacking the granola bar like some kind of predator. Of course, if I were some kind of predator, a granola bar would probably be all that I could catch, so I guess it all evens out. Once I had eaten the granola bar, Rabbit stood up and asked, “You good?”

  I also stood up and found my legs able to support my weight without doing their imitation of an earthquake on a caffeine rush. “No,” I replied. “But if you waited until I’m good, you’d be here until the sun blinks out.” We smiled and started to step away from the Hyundai when a bullet ricocheted off of the frame. We both hit the ground and began looking for the source.

  When the next shot was fired, Rabbit saw the muzzle flash. “Sniper! My ten o’clock. Mountainside. Eight hundred yards!” Wow. It was amazing to me how some people could size up information like that so quickly. I had to manually count how many cans were left in a carton of sodas. “We need Jethro up here,” she said to me. “He’s our marksman. Be ready to give him cover.” I looked down and realized I was still carrying the squad automatic weapon. Amazing how some things slip your mind even when they weigh as much as a toddler.

  Setting up the bipod, I got myself into a firing position. The problem was that I still hadn’t seen a muzzle flash and had no idea where the sniper was. I tried aiming toward roughly where Rabbit had described, but it was remarkable how much ground that covered. “You ready?” she asked. No, I wasn’t ready. I was firing blind. Before I could say that to her, she shouted, “Covering fire!”

  Multiple things happened at once. Jethro began running toward a better firing position. The sniper tried to take a shot at Jethro. I saw the muzzle flash and adjusted my aim as I was pulling the trigger. I also gained a new appreciation for Rabbit’s lungs. Man, that woman could shout loudly! I don’t think I heard the first three rounds fired because my ears were ringing from her voice.

  I continued to hold the trigger until I was certain that my rounds were impacting near the sniper. Then I fired a short, controlled burst. I heard Jethro let out a growl, and then I heard a scream come down from the mountainside. I ceased fire, and the screaming continued for a few moments before ending in a kind of strangled gasp. I watched Rabbit run over to Jethro and then call for a medic. Nickel and the medic got to him at about the same time, and Rabbit stepped aside to let them work. I kept my weapon aimed at the mountainside and began moving up toward where most of the squad was.

  Hannibal checked with the medic. Jethro had just been grazed. He would need a few stitches but no permanent damage was done. Hannibal then came over to me and Rabbit. “Rabbit, you and me are going to go pull that sniper out. Pup, you come along to cover us.”

  I was a little shaky again when Rabbit walked up next to me. “Don’t puke up my granola bar,” she said quietly. “You aren’t getting another.” Then she began spacing out from Hannibal for the trek up the mountainside to discover the fate of our assailant. We were a little over halfway to where I had seen the muzzle flash when it occurred to me that I had been the only one shooting when the sniper supposedly got hit. I hadn’t been aiming to shoot him, exactly. I just wanted to keep his head down while Jethro got into a better position. I might have been fighting the entire day, but I had not had time to think about whether I had shot anyone or not. This time, I not only had time to think about it, I was going to have to see it. Only the fear that I would go hungry kept the granola bar from coming back up again.

  All three of us noticed the sniper rifle on the ground a little bit in front of a rather large rock that the sniper must have been using for cover. Even though the sniper no longer had his rifle, we all kept our weapons raised as we worked our way around the rock. Rabbit and Hannibal made it around the rock first while I covered them a few feet away. They both looked at the ground, looked at each other, gave a nod, and lowered their weapons. Following their lead, I did the same. Hannibal activated his radio and spoke into the microphone. “Wildcat Actual, this is Wildcat 1-2. We have one enemy KIA this position. No other signs of activity.” He exchanged a few more words before signing off and turning to me. “Good work, Pup. Birds are on their way to take us back to Camp Wildcat. Seems that our success and that of other platoons has helped cut the mission short. Go rejoin the squad and help get all of the rucksacks gathered and ready for exfil.”

  I nodded and looked over at Rabbit. She had a sad look in her eyes. I guessed that she was remembering my answer to her question the morning after I had shot the dog. I turned away and made my way back down the mountainside. I don’t know if they heard any of my sniffling or not. To be honest, I don’t give a damn if they did. If either of them are reading this, don’t take that personally. I’m not trying to make a point about you, but about me. You see . . .

  Sorry. I tend to get a little carried away trying to make sure I don’t upset too many people. Anyway, I got back to the squad’s location and found that the rucksacks had already been recovered and found mine waiting for me. I didn’t check in with the Professor but instead opened my ruck and pulled out some of the MRE crackers and peanut butter. I sat there next to my rucksack, clearing the tears from my face, and eating what seemed like the tastiest peanut butter and crackers I had ever had. “They always taste better when you realize you’re alive.” I damned near jumped out of my skin. I had never even noticed the Professor walking up to me. What was with him being all sneaky like that? He stepped over to my rucksack, reached in, and pulled out the chocolate bar from the open MRE. He sat down in front of me. My eyes must have shown some kind of protest because he tapped his rank insignia and said, “The bar gave me permission.” He took a bite and pointed to the location of the now dead sniper. “That’s what war is. Right or wrong, ready for it or not, war is death. You either kill or wind up dead. You feel bad about what you had to do, and that’s good. Shows that you’re still human. But you’re going to have to put that self-recrimination aside or it will eat you alive.”

  I finished off my bite of cracker and drank some water before I responded with a somewhat quiet voice. “I’m not a soldier. Up until today the only thing I’ve done is hurt a defenseless dog for no reason.”

  “Not exactly. There’s something I haven’t told you. When we get back to camp, you are going to receive two things. The first is your Combat Infantry Badge. The second is a letter of commendation for your actions in preventing a major sapper attack on a US Army camp.” I’m not going to claim to have the best memory in the world. My memory is surprisingly selective. I can give you unusually obscure details about a commercial that I might have seen a decade ago, but I often forget the names of people I just met. Despite that, I’m pretty sure I’d recall fending off an attack, and I told the lieutenant as much. “You didn’t hurt that dog on accident. The sappers had released stray dogs toward the fence line in order to set off the perimeter defenses but make it look like a bunch of accidents. While the sentries dealt with the strays and let their guard down, the sappers would have snuck in. Your actions scared the dogs away and convinced the sappers that their plan wouldn’t succeed. We captured one two days later and managed to get him to confess to all of this.”

  I ran that evening through my head again. I thought that I had seen something slower moving along the perimeter at the time. Of course, if he had told me that Captain Kirk had personally trained the dogs I probably would have remembered seeing a transporter beam somewhere along the way. Memories are easily influenced like that. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  The Professor finished off the chocolate bar and stood. “I wanted to see if what I thought about you was true. You did well out here today. You didn’t overthink everything, and you responded based on your training.”

  “I didn’t have time to think!” OK
. . . maybe I whine a little.

  “And you usually won’t,” he responded, still patient. “The point is that you have good instincts. Let your instincts and training take over, and you should do just fine. Just like you did today. Just like you did that night on sentry duty. Give yourself some credit, Pup. Nobody is a perfect screw-up.” He began to walk off but then stopped long enough to add, “Although you seem determined to try and achieve that in your own mind.” He walked away, leaving me to think through what all had happened. Of course, he had just told me to stop overthinking things, so I stopped thinking and started acting on instinct. My instincts told me that I wanted something sweet, so I dug through what was left of my food. I felt my first flash of anger at the Professor. That jerk had eaten my last chocolate bar.

  It’s basic chemistry . . .

  җ

  Jethro was lifted out along with the medic before the rest of us so that he could get himself stitched up back at camp. Within the hour, another flock of blessed but unbelievably loud metallic birds arrived for the remainder of us. Most of the rest of the members of the platoon were talking about the battle, which they said was a remarkable victory against a larger enemy force, textbook execution, etcetera, etcetera. I have to admit that I didn’t care much. I just wanted to get back to camp and find an opportunity to think, eat food that I didn’t have to fight with, and put my feet in either warm water, cold water, or a vat of sulfuric acid for all I cared as long as it did something about the pain my body was starting to remember. One thing that had been foretold, and was a true blessing, was the fact that my rucksack was much lighter than the way it had begun. I boarded the helicopter, strapped in, squirmed some because I was still uncomfortable with the injury caused by the harness from my last helicopter ride, but I didn’t even care that the doors remained open this time. The wind felt pretty good.