“I don’t deserve it,” I replied immediately, not taking his hand. My quack therapist says that I have issues with inferiority. He’s right (for once). However, that had nothing to do with my response. “I had no idea that I was running through a minefield to get that little girl.”
“No, you thought that you were running through a downpour of shrapnel. That isn’t exactly safe either, is it?” I shook my head and was about to protest, but the Professor raised his hand to silence me. “It comes right down to the simple truth that you would have done it even if you knew that it was a minefield. You might have walked a little more softly, but you saw that little girl in danger, and you chose to put your own life at risk to save her. It was damned brave. If you doubt that, you can always consult this.” He handed me a piece of paper with a crayon drawing on it. There were what looked like explosions on the left side of the paper. On the right was a little stick person kicking the leg of a taller stick person with a funny hat that I assumed was supposed to be a helmet. “We received that a few minutes ago. The little girl you saved drew it.”
I looked at the picture for several moments. “She doesn’t look very happy with what I did.”
The Professor laughed. That was good. I knew that he needed it. “In that picture she surely does not. However, I know that she is. She drew the picture and gave it to her parents with a big smile on her face and told them to give it to ‘the idiot.’ They spent two hours finding out your name. You did well, Pup. You deserve the recognition. And God knows that I need something to look forward to.”
His last statement brought me up short. It worried me to hear him sound fatalistic. “Are things that bad?” I finally managed to ask.
The Professor stood up and looked at his map. “The brass says that it’s not. As a matter of fact, they are certain that this is the beginning of the end for our enemy’s forces. I agree with them. They appear to have committed almost everything that they have for one last desperate assault. The North Koreans, the jihadists, the communist guerrillas, and everyone else who is here fighting us seem to have found their second wind and run out into the rain to fight. They are losing. We stopped them dead in their tracks about ten miles short of Camp Wildcat a couple of hours ago. The powers that be are preparing plans for a counterattack, and we are sure to be part of it.” He turned to me, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “I know that we can do this, and I will never shy away from a fight. This is the last battle. I am sure of it. That is a good thing. I just don’t see us being able to finish it without taking more casualties than I am comfortable with.”
“How many are you comfortable with?” I still don’t know why I asked that. Was I going to take a survey later and see who would volunteer to be a casualty so that we could meet our quota?
“With this platoon, any casualty is too many. I’ve lost my objectivity as an officer and become too close to those I command. I don’t want to see a single thing happen to any of you. I’ll follow my orders. I will send us all into danger if I am told to, but I will regret it for the rest of my life.”
I stood up, convinced myself I was doing the right thing, and placed my hand on his shoulder. “I think that all of the great officers regret the risks they are forced to have their soldiers take. That’s what makes them great officers.” I then looked around to make sure that Hannibal wasn’t nearby, came to attention, and saluted. The Professor returned the salute with textbook precision (he really did belong in movies). “Just don’t give me that Bronze Star. I don’t deserve it.” I turned to leave.
“Screw you, Pup. I outrank you and will do whatever I want!” I could hear the humor in his voice and left the office happy in the knowledge that I was leaving it better than how I found it. That was more than I could say the last time I had been to the principal’s office.
As I walked down the hallway, I found myself thinking about some of the things that the Professor had said. There was no way that this platoon was going to be sitting this battle out. We were located close to the front lines, we had knowledge of the region, and we were an infantry platoon in what was clearly going to be an infantry battle. That meant that we would fight, and in a fight this large, some of our people would get hurt. My squad had been remarkably lucky in only having one casualty since I had arrived. I knew that in any war, that was unusual for a frontline combat unit. I think that I might have started taking it for granted. I always expected that every time I went into battle I would have Jethro and Rabbit and Boom and Hannibal and even Shaggy at my side. We had fought in our fair share of firefights together and come out on the other side as a unit. This time was different. This time was a great deal bigger. We weren’t going to have to go out and find the enemy. The enemy wasn’t bothering to hide this time. He was standing out in the open and daring us to come and get him, and we had to accept the dare. I couldn’t see a way that we could get through this fight without someone going home before they should. I found that this thought frightened me even more than my first taste of combat had. I couldn’t seem to think straight. I couldn’t catch my breath. I had no idea what I was doing. My subconscious had taken over my actions. Before I knew what I was doing, I was knocking on the door to the school nurse’s office, which was the room assigned to Mayumi as quarters.
She opened the door quickly after I knocked on it. She had gotten a little bit of sleep and managed to clean herself up. I know that I looked like death eating a cracker, but it didn’t stop her from looking thrilled to see me. I really wished that she hadn’t done that. “You need to go back home,” I found myself saying.
The look on her face fell. “What do you mean you want me to go home?”
I really didn’t know what I meant. My mind seemed to be on autopilot. The autopilot seemed to have an answer. “You need to go home. As long as you’re here, people’s lives are at risk.”
She stepped back out of her doorway and sat down on her cot. I took her place, filling up the open frame. “Why am I a risk?” she asked in a weak voice.
“Because you aren’t as well trained, and you haven’t been fighting with us.” My responses were instant and strong and logical . . . and I hated them all. I just couldn’t seem to stop them.
“But I fought with you at the village. I can handle combat. Plus . . .” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “I want to be with you.”
“Well I don’t want to be with you.” My voice was even and strong. My heart was screaming and cursing. Of course, Mayumi could only hear my words, not my heart. “We had a good time in Australia, but here you are holding me back. Getting a smile or kiss from you isn’t worth having to look over my shoulder all of the time to check and see if you are OK. We are from two different worlds for goodness sake! Call it what it is: two goofballs having a few laughs.”
Mayumi seemed to deflate. She wouldn’t even look at me. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “Go to hell, Pup.”
I nodded and turned away without another word. I thought that I heard her whimper a little as I walked out, but I didn’t turn around to see if I was right. My heart was racing and I felt sick to my stomach, but my mind was perfectly focused and certain that it had made the right choice. I wasn’t five or six steps down the hallway when I ran into Rabbit. She was also showing the same fatigue as I was, but she suffered the same annoying habit that everyone else seemed to have that day: she seemed happy to see me. “Pup! Glad I found you. I just wanted you to know that I heard about what you did. I’m impressed. You’re really growing as a soldier.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. Then she turned and walked away. I looked over just in time to see Mayumi slam the door to her room. I still wasn’t entirely sure what I was trying to accomplish, but I was pretty sure that I had accomplished it. Yay for me.
Welcome to the war. We hope you enjoy your stay . . .
җ
I managed to get about four hours of sleep. I assumed that it was
restful. I was so completely exhausted and physically and emotionally drained that when I woke up I realized I was in the exact same position that I had fallen asleep in. I had been too tired to move even in my sleep. I hadn’t even snored. I didn’t know that it was possible to be too tired to snore. Even though I don’t think that I consciously said all of the things that I’d said to Mayumi, I remembered them all with perfect clarity as soon as I woke up. That wasn’t really something that I wanted to remember. Part of my brain wanted to try and figure out why I’d said those things, but it had no time to investigate. (I know that it’s obvious now, but that’s now. You know what they say about hindsight. Then again, who can see out of their hind?) The reason that I had woken up was because the school’s PA system was calling all members of the platoon to the auditorium for a briefing. It seemed that the Professor was right. There was no way that we were going to be sitting this battle out.
I filed into the auditorium and sat in the first seat I could find. I wasn’t near the other members of my squad, but I wasn’t all that concerned about that. I didn’t feel much like socializing anyway. Just before the lights went down in the auditorium so that the projector could be seen, I managed to look around. I didn’t see Mayumi anywhere. It surprised me. It was the first time in my existence that someone had actually chosen to do what I’d asked them to. Why did that have to start now?
The Professor was standing at a podium on the stage of the auditorium. There was a map of the surrounding area projected next to him with the location of allied and enemy forces marked on it. There was more red on that map than I had seen so far in my time in the Hiss. Maybe the Professor was right. Maybe this was the big one. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the big one.” See? I told you. “The North Koreans and their allies are trying to take advantage of the weather situation by attacking during this monsoon in the hopes that it will negate some of the advantages that we enjoy. They have been partially successful in that respect.” He flipped through a few slides that showed a tank stuck in mud, a drone that had crashed into a tree during a storm, and a spy satellite photo that only showed clouds. “I don’t show you these pictures to worry you. I show them to you because they prove that the enemy was wrong. The advantage that we have isn’t because of technology. Here is the greatest weapon that the United States has ever fielded.” The next slide was predictable but still welcome. It was a picture of a soldier. The auditorium erupted into cheers and screaming. The Professor couldn’t suppress a little smile. I think he might have been a male cheerleader in college. What do they call them? Yell leaders? Whatever. I think he might have been one of those.
It took a good minute or two before the shouting finally died down enough for the briefing to continue. I had no doubt that the Professor could have ended the cheers anytime he wanted to, but I think he knew how much the troops needed it. He was a natural leader that way. “The North Koreans have miscalculated because their choice of tactics has allowed us to exploit our most capable weapon to its fullest potential. We have halted the enemy advance and the brass have decided that it is time to bring this war to a close. Our counterattack begins in two hours.” He brought the map of the region back up, but this one showed arrows indicating the directions that the blue forces would be traveling. “As you can see on this map, we are going to start rolling up the enemy forces, but we can see an obvious opening for the enemy to swing around and hit our left flank. That is where we come in. This platoon will be part of a brigade-sized force that will protect the left flank and advance with the main force to help roll up and eventually surround this main enemy formation. NCOs, you will receive detailed information about your area of operation. The rest of you, just go out there and do what you know how to do best. It’s raining, it’s muddy, it’ll be a tough fight, and you’ll be telling your grandchildren with pride that you were a part of it. Dismissed!”
I got up and went straight to my preparations. I’m pretty sure that I was nervous as hell. I’m pretty sure that I was scared to death. My therapist would no doubt love to delve into how I was feeling at that moment. I don’t bother to now because I didn’t bother to then. I kept my mind on what I needed to do and what was expected of me. It was probably the only thing that kept me sane. I know that people asked me questions and gave me orders. I know that I responded to all of the questions and orders. I can only assume that I responded automatically because I’ll be damned if I can remember what I said. What I do know is that two hours flies by a lot more quickly than you think it would when you are getting ready for something major.
I found my squad and waited with them for the helicopter that was going to carry us to our area of operations. Everyone was remarkably subdued. I guess that we all really did understand how big of a thing we were about to take part in. We double-checked each other’s gear, helped tighten straps, and exchanged rations with each other, but there was very little conversation. Jethro wasn’t humming a country song. Boom wasn’t shouting at some guy for looking at her wrong. Hannibal wasn’t threatening me with bodily harm. Shaggy . . . well, Shaggy was eating a protein bar. It turned out that he did tend to eat as much as the cartoon character he was named for. Once our bird landed, we boarded quickly and quietly and lifted off with barely a word.
The rain had started again, and lightning and thunder was accompanying it. It was not the kind of flight you would ever want to take in a helicopter, but I don’t think that any of us really noticed. The silence became an almost physical presence, pressing down on us with an imminent feeling of doom. Was that dramatic enough? I’m trying to work on my wording a bit in case I ever decide to write a movie. Regardless, the silence got to be too much. I couldn’t stand it. It had to end before it swallowed us whole. Without notice or context, I shouted out the first word that came to my mind. “Vacuum!” That was the first word that came to my mind? I don’t get me. I really don’t.
Everyone in the cabin of the helicopter turned to me in confusion. I just kept a neutral expression, like this was a perfectly natural thing to have shouted out in the middle of a helicopter full of soldiers on their way into battle. Finally, in his typical, threatening, angry voice, Hannibal asked, “Pup, what the hell are you talking about?”
Still with my neutral expression, I replied, “I have no idea, Sergeant.”
Rabbit smiled. “That doesn’t make it any different than any other time that he opens his mouth.”
“At least he ain’t talking about someone’s booty,” Jethro added.
“Or his mommy,” said Boom.
“Or getting himself blown off of the latrine,” Shaggy said in his high-pitched screech. How did he know about that?
Most of the soldiers in the cabin of the helicopter were showing signs of a smile, except for Hannibal. He still looked like his normal, surly self. “You know what, Pup?” he growled. “I should have ripped your nose off and eaten it when I had the chance.” He reached forward, and I have to admit that I was awfully scared as he did. His hand went straight for my nose, and I found myself briefly wondering if this was going to hurt as badly as I thought it would. Instead of ripping my nose off, he honked it. I still tried to jump out of my seat. Half of Hannibal’s face went up with a grin. Aw, look. I think I made a friend.
The lightened mood only lasted a few seconds because word came back that we were thirty seconds from our landing zone. Everyone checked their weapons, and the miniguns on the helicopter began their world-ending buzz that shook the entire bird and sent untold amounts of lead hurtling to the ground. Whether the enemy was there or not, we were treating this as a hot insertion. It was only my second. I could’ve done without it.
We each had to make a conscious effort to not move in front of the gunner’s position. Although he had stopped firing for the moment, which meant that we might not be facing enemy fire as soon as we deployed, he could restart at any time, and it wouldn’t be good to be standing in front of him if he did. We all flipped the safety off of our weap
ons and leapt out of the hovering helicopter. I was less than thrilled to discover that we were deploying into a rice paddy. I splashed down into waist-deep water and barely managed to keep my weapon from being submerged. Without even having time to complain about it, I dragged myself up onto one of the levees and lay in a prone position searching a nearby tree line for movement. Once the rest of the squad had joined me on the ground, the helicopter flew away with a deafening whine of power, and a spray of water kicked up into our faces. Three people were sent to check out the tree line while the rest of us helped pull everyone out of the water.
Once everyone was on what passed for dry land and we were certain that we were not surrounded by enemy troops, Hannibal made an appraisal of our surroundings, checked his map, and then radioed our position to the Professor. Hannibal apparently got a response because he put his hand up to one side of his helmet over his ear and listened intently. I’ve never understood why people do that. If a bunch of people are talking to you, I understand wanting to block them out by covering your ear so that you can hear the radio, but no one was talking to him, and putting your hand on your helmet accomplishes nothing. I have come to the conclusion that it is a method of displaying status. It is like looking at everyone and saying I’m important enough to have someone speak to me on the radio and you aren’t. Nanananabooboo! Of course, I don’t think I could ever picture Hannibal saying that last part. I’m pretty sure his version of taunting when he was a tiny child included a threatening growl.
Hannibal called out to all of us once he had completed receiving his own instructions. We gathered around to make certain that we could hear him over the rain while a few flankers made sure that no one could sneak up on us. “Here is the situation. The main attack is proceeding as planned and with the expected level of success. Command attempted to secure the left flank with some armor, but it was as ineffective as they feared it would be. That means that we will be flank security against any North Korean maneuvers. We are to proceed about two miles north of here and set up defensive positions along a railroad track and service road there. If we are unable to hold that position, we will make our way westward toward a SoKo company positioned there. We may have artillery support and some light vehicles to assist, but don’t plan on air support. Any questions?” I always wanted to chime in at moments like that with a question like why is the sky blue? I doubt Hannibal would have found that amusing. “Very well. Intelligence doesn’t think that we will begin seeing any advanced enemy patrols for another few hours, so let’s get to our position, dig in, and get ready to kick some ass.”
Pup Page 20