Pup

by Christopher Slater

  The march to our defensive position was a messy one. Days of pouring rain had created a morass of mud and standing water. I was already wet from the waist down after being dropped off in a rice paddy. The rain made certain that I was wet from the waist up, too. Most of us were wearing ponchos when we started out, but after the first mile of the march we ditched them. We were soaked even with the ponchos, they restricted our movement, and air didn’t flow through them. It was like being on a long march in your own personal sauna. I don’t recommend it. After we entered another field after passing through a copse of trees, I had a thought: Shouldn’t the treads on the tanks spread out their weight so that they can operate in these conditions?

  I hadn’t asked the question to anyone in particular, but since Rabbit was closest to me, she obviously felt the need to respond. “Pup, am I in a tank?” I gave her the obvious negative response. “Then how the hell should I know?”

  “Well, I . . . uh . . . just . . . kinda . . .” I have such a great way with words. I should write song lyrics.

  I found an answer to my question a few minutes later. Two burnt-out tank hulls were sitting in the middle of a field, blackened. I discovered later that they had been crossing the field and were forced to go much slower than usual because of their weight and the mud. As they lumbered across the field, a couple of jihadist insurgents were able to hit them with rockets. Unable to maneuver, the tanks had little chance. A nearby infantry squad captured the insurgents later, but it showed that the weather was going to be a detriment to the heavy armor that the United States enjoyed fielding so much.

  It took a little longer to cover the distance than I was happy with. That’s because every step that you took involved your foot going ankle-deep in mud and then having to pull it out again. Still, we made it to the railroad tracks with plenty of time to prepare for a defensive action. The tracks ran east to west, as did the service road beside it. This worked in our favor since the North Koreans or their allies were likely to approach us from the north. The train track, which was elevated to prevent flooding, would help provide a barrier to small arms fire. We all got out our entrenchment tools and dug some shallow foxholes. We couldn’t dig anything very deep because the mud kept collapsing into the holes. We positioned our squad automatic weapons to provide the maximum field of fire, and then we took our positions and waited.

  Waiting is a terrible thing to be subjected to when you are in a life-or-death situation. It’s like fate is teasing you. You have to find ways to fill the time but not make yourself vulnerable in the process. Most of us ate. It’s usually a really bad idea for me to eat whenever I’m nervous or might be in a stressful situation. The food doesn’t tend to like me in those instances. However, I had learned through my previous encounters to get food and sleep whenever I could because I never knew when the next opportunity would arrive. Food I could eat with one hand and still keep an eye on my zone. Sleep would have been an entirely different story. Since I couldn’t do one, I figured that I had better take care of the other. The food was getting soggy from the rain and hadn’t been good to begin with, but it provided me with sustenance. It was almost like eating in the cafeteria in my elementary school.

  I was beginning to think that the North Koreans were going to be no-shows to their own party. The sun went down, which did nothing to stop the rain but did force us all to put on our night vision gear. We were fortunate that this time none of our goggles suffered due to the weather conditions, and we were able to watch the field ahead of us almost like it was daytime. That probably saved some of our lives.

  Jethro was the first to see them. He always claimed it was because of his time spent hunting. He would spend hours in a blind or a tree stand just waiting for the sound or movement that would indicate he would be going home with a feeling of triumph. I guess it’s a good thing that I never went hunting with him. I would have been flipping my safety on and off or playing games on some electronic device to give myself something to do, scaring all of the animals off in the process. Patience is not one of my virtues. Thankfully, it was one of his. He noticed movement at a pretty good distance and used his goggle’s magnification feature to zoom in on that movement. He reported to Hannibal that he had spotted enemy infantry about a half mile away.

  Hannibal wasted no time. He radioed in the sighting and called for artillery support. Less than a minute later I heard the telltale whistling of artillery rounds flying overhead. They sounded much different when they were flying away from you than when they were flying toward you. I liked the sound a lot more when it was outgoing. Then I saw the explosions of earth and fire in the distance moments before I could hear them. I had been on the receiving end of artillery fire and found it terrifying. It was much more satisfying when it was going the other way.

  The artillery fire made it obvious to the North Koreans that they had been located, so they decided not to bother hiding anymore. They announced their presence by jamming our radios. Everyone in the squad heard a faint but definitive click and then nothing. Whatever they were using was effective because we couldn’t even communicate by radio with people in our own squad. The artillery support ended almost immediately. Without information coming in from the front lines, they couldn’t risk dropping shells on their own men. Not since the time I had gotten lost in the mall had I ever felt so alone. At least at the mall I didn’t have people trying to kill me. Not that I knew of.

  The North Koreans began moving across the field carefully and with impressive skill. They obviously knew that we were there and that we were going to fight against them, but they weren’t going to make it easy for us. They moved in leapfrog patterns, and I could have sworn that I saw mortars being set up in the distance. The only thing that gave me comfort was that I had seen our own mortars being set up behind us a ways. Hannibal, thinking of the same subject as I was, low-crawled to another member of the squad and ordered them to fall back to the mortar squad and inform them of the situation. The soldier scurried off as best as he could, but he had to move slowly and low to the ground or he would give away our position. I was certain that by the time he made it to the mortar squads we would be under fire.

  Before I go any further, I think it is only fair to warn you that I have never described what happened over the next several hours all at once before. My therapist thinks that I need to do it so often that it becomes second nature and doesn’t affect me anymore. My therapist is an idiot. I don’t try to pretend that all of this didn’t happen. I know that it did. I just don’t want to relive it so often that it defines everything that I do, no matter what kind of impact it has on my life. It’s kind of like having a bad teacher. Everyone has had a teacher that they didn’t like or didn’t get along with. That is nothing new. What amazes me is the number of people who let that control their point of view for the rest of their lives. They tell their kids to never trust teachers and that they are all out to get them. They become cynical and think school is a waste of time. I’ve had a teacher or two say some nasty things to me. I dealt with the problem and didn’t let it define me. I don’t want this event to define me either. I’ll describe it all in one sitting, but don’t expect me to do it again. You can just reread it if you have questions.

  The NoKos were about eight hundred yards away when they started firing their mortars at us. They didn’t know exactly where we were, but it didn’t take a genius to see the raised railroad tracks and realize that they made for good cover. The shells rained down in a haphazard manner, but that made it no less frightening. Knowing that there is nothing you can do prevent a shell from landing on your head will definitely give you the shakes. Our own mortars began to answer back and walked shells toward the enemy positions. High-detail radar told our crews exactly where to send their shells. Thank you to the light artillery. Within a few minutes the NoKo’s mortars had been chased off. There was one less nightmare I had to deal with. To help with things, our tubes continued to drop rounds on the advancing infantry. It
’s always nice for the trouble to be on someone else’s side of the fight.

  Having shells falling on you is never an enjoyable thing, but it can be a great motivator. Where the North Korean troops had been advancing carefully before the bombardment, they were now trying to close the distance quickly so that the shelling would stop. That was an even more dangerous situation for them. The mortar fire was blind. Our fire was aimed. Once the advancing soldiers were within range, we opened fire with everything that we had. Several of them took hits, and the rest of them hit the ground. It made targeting them more difficult, and it gave them an opportunity to return fire. We were in excellent defensive positions and it never gave them a clear shot at us, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t some close calls. Seeing a bullet impact the dirt a foot in front of your face will certainly get the heart pumping. We stood our ground and gave a lot more than we got. I know that I hit several soldiers. I tried not to think about it, only about doing what I had to do. The North Koreans were determined, though. They continued to close in no matter how many they were losing, and there were a lot more of them than there were of us.

  Things were beginning to get loud and confusing. Since our radios were jammed we were yelling back and forth at each other over the gunfire. Warnings, sightings, requests for cover fire were a constant barrage in the height of battle. It got to where I wasn’t certain who was yelling, even if it was me. The situation was becoming very tense. The enemy soldiers continued to close even as their ranks were thinned out. They were getting close enough that I could make out the details of their faces. They ceased to be just silhouette targets anymore and became humans, as grim and determined to survive as I was. Seeing that frightened me, not because of what might happen to me but out of fear of what I might become. It didn’t force me to pause in my fight, though. I think my therapist told me that what it forced me to become was a soldier and a survivor. He might have gotten that right. He’s still a quack, though.

  I was truly becoming worried that we were going to be overrun. The soldiers were getting close enough that I started to wonder if one of them had a good enough arm to throw a grenade at us. That’s when two Humvees came flying up on the service road. Both had .50-caliber machine guns mounted on top, and they began pounding away before we could even hear the motors of the oncoming vehicles. The cavalry had arrived. Some jerk even shouted out “Hi ho, Silver!” It could have been me. I don’t remember. Heat of battle and all.

  The heavy machine guns were the straw that broke the camel’s back. The North Koreans that had made it so close to our lines were talked out of any further advance by half-inch bullets digging new trenches all around them. They tossed several smoke grenades to cover their withdrawal. We kept the pressure on them until we were certain that they had left the area. The two Humvees pulled up, and the soldiers in the cupolas dismounted. Once they were out of the vehicles and walking toward us, I recognized them. It was the Professor and Mayumi. “The NoKos are pulling back all along the line!” he announced proudly. “We’ll proceed westward in a few minutes to assist the SoKos. Things are pretty tense there. Medics are on their way to look at the wounded here.” He clapped several of his soldiers on the shoulder. “It looks like we did it, folks!” A cheer rang out.

  I wasn’t cheering. Mayumi was standing ten feet from me and looking at me with a look of betrayal. I couldn’t blame her. Even combat can’t overcome heartbreak. I really needed to talk to her. “Lieutenant Ogawa, may we speak please?” She barely nodded and followed me a few dozen yards away, where we could not be overheard. “Why are you here?” I know it was a stupid way to start off the conversation, but I had asked her to go away. The absolutely microscopic, minuscule ego that I had was angry that she had ignored me.

  With a very superior air, she replied, “Apparently I’m looking over my shoulder and taking care of you!”

  There was nothing about that I could argue with. My ego shut up. “You know that I didn’t really want you to leave.”

  “Do I?” She wasn’t going to make this easy. Once again, I couldn’t blame her. I once heard a comedian say that there were two ways to argue with a woman, and neither one works. I should have learned that lesson sooner. “Why should it matter to you? We were just having some laughs.”

  Fatigue hit me like a rock. Despite the mud, I flopped to the ground. She remained standing in a dignified manner. “It was a lot more than that. I was scared for you, Mayumi. I knew that this was going to be rough, and I didn’t want you to be at risk. I know that you can fight, but you never know when you might get stuck in an artillery barrage or an air strike or . . .” Something started tickling the edge of my brain.

  Whatever it was, Mayumi didn’t notice. “Pup, it’s dangerous everywhere. I could get mugged walking around Kyoto. I could get stuck in a house fire. I could . . .”

  “Shut up,” I commanded.

  “What?” There are some things that you should never tell a woman, but it was a definite necessity.

  “Shut up!” I commanded again with greater urgency. I stood up and looked toward what had been the battlefield. Some of the smoke released by the retreating North Koreans was beginning to dissipate, and my full-color goggles were seeing something unusual. “Mayumi, can these goggles make out the color of smoke?” She didn’t answer at first. I think that she was still shocked at my brazenness. Let’s face it, I’m not usually a very confrontational person. She might have thought it was another sign of the apocalypse. “Can they?” I repeated.

  “Ye-ye-yes they can,” she stammered.

  I looked at the dissipating smoke again. I could see a little more clearly through the dark grey haze that they had created. Somewhere in there was another smoke. It would have been awfully hard to see at night, but maybe you could if you knew where to look for it. There was a yellow smoke billowing out of a can nearby. Almost as if it were marking the position for someone. Several latches unlocked in my brain, and I realized what was about to happen. “Incoming!” I shouted, but was too late.

  As I mentioned before, the North Korean Air Force was a corpse of its former self, but apparently they had one or two attack aircraft still in their inventory. One of them came swooping down on our position, firing rockets. It was obvious that the pilot was inexperienced because most of the rockets landed in the field, but they kept getting closer. Unable to reach the rest of the squad, I tackled Mayumi to the ground and covered her with my body. There were multiple explosions, and I felt something burning along my back. The jet roared overhead before blowing up in midair. An American fighter flew past at breakneck speed, performing a barrel roll to celebrate its victory.

  I’m glad that the fighter pilot had something to celebrate, because things on the ground were terrible. Once the ringing in my ears subsided a little, I checked on Mayumi to make certain that she was OK. Once she signaled that she was, I got up and turned to run toward the members of my squad. I didn’t make it a single step. The rocket hadn’t scored a direct hit, but it was close enough. The vehicles looked to still be intact, but there were people laying all around them, some moaning in pain, some not moving at all. I found myself frozen at the carnage for a few seconds, then my concern for my brothers and sisters kicked in.

  Rabbit was the first person that I came to. She had burns all across her back. She was conscious, but it was obvious that she wasn’t happy about it. After checking her pulse and breathing, I went to the next soldier, which was Hannibal. His leg had been hit badly with shrapnel. I could tell it was bad, and blood loss was already causing him to lose consciousness. I tore part of his sleeve off and made it into a tourniquet. It might not have been pretty, but I didn’t know what else to do. Jethro, Boom, and Shaggy all looked to be suffering from concussions or some kind of head trauma. Both of the Humvee drivers were already dead. Then I found the Professor. He had taken a chest full of shrapnel but was somehow alive and awake. It was obvious that he would be neither for much longer. “Pr
ofessor, I’m here. You’re going to be fine,” I lied.

  “Don’t ever play poker,” he replied weakly. “I have one question for you.” I leaned in closer. “Why did you burn that picture?”

  Despite the situation, I couldn’t help but be shocked. “How did you . . .” I asked in an unnaturally high voice.

  He just answered with a weak smile. With his last bit of strength, he put his hand on the side of my face. “Good instincts, Pup.” His hand dropped, and his eyes closed. He looked like a movie star, and his death looked like a scene he was playing. Damn, Professor. You were the best I ever knew. Aaron, my son, now you know where your name came from. Maybe making your middle name Professor was taking the honor a bit far, but I don’t think so. Not one little bit.

  Some people are born to greatness; others get lost and step in it . . .

  җ

  I glanced over at Mayumi. She was giving Rabbit a shot of morphine and trying not to look up at me as I pulled a poncho over the Professor. I could tell that she was crying. I might have been, too. In the constant rain it was impossible to be sure. We performed what first aid we could on everyone there. She bandaged up my back where shrapnel had cut a long, shallow wound. After a few minutes we sat down together, leaning our backs against the bumper of one of the Humvees. “We’re the only ones conscious here, you know?” I pointed out.