My War

"Hey Sarge, man, I gotta go," the sweet young PFC said with some urgency.

Looking over at her from my station in the passenger seat of the deuce and a half, I asked politely as not to break any regulations, "Well sweet cheeks, do you need me to hold your hand? If you gotta go then I'd advise you stop the truck and go,"

"But... but there isn't any privacy, where am I supposed to go?" she asked holding her crotch.

She couldn't be fucking serious could she? "Look baby cakes, we're in a combat zone, where the hell are you going to find a powder room out here? If you have to tinkle, stop the fucking truck and drop 'em,"

Her eyes were pleading with me now, and she was almost in tears. Me? Well, I was questioning the sanity of women in active combat roles. This shit never came up in Nam, fuck I was getting way too old for this crap. "Alright pull it over," I ordered. The truck ground to a halt as I dug behind the seat for an old tarp. Walking to the front of the truck, I screamed out to the grunts peering out of the back.

"BE ADVISED, THE FIRST HEAD I SEE POPPING AROUND THE SIDE OF THE TRUCK WILL GET A BULLET BETWEEN THE EYES. The PFC here has to pee and she would like some privacy, ANY QUESTIONS GENTLEMEN?" I barked.

I held the worn canvass up and watched as she ran to the other side. I heard the splatter of a heavy stream hit the soft dirt, within seconds I was standing in a puddle of mud. When she'd finished, I folded the tarp in half and threw it to her. I pointed at the ground with a scowl on my face, "Next time point that thing somewhere else," I growled. "Now that you're fresh as a daisy, could we please MOVE OUT?" I ordered.

We mounted the transport vehicle to cheers and chuckles from the troops in the rear. I thought about my twenty plus years in the service, man, things had changed. I wasn't that fresh-faced boot that did two tours in the Nam, now I was a gristly old relic that hadn't known when to quit.

Hell, I couldn't quit, I tried once after Nam and after ten years of dysfunction I found I couldn't stay away. Civilian life just didn't agree with me, my marriage went to shit and I couldn't keep focused on a career. So I did the only thing I could do to keep my sanity, I came back to the fold. The idea that I belonged to the only outfit in U S history that had lost a war compelled me to re-up.

It wasn't easy to get back into fighting trim after my vacation. I worked my ass off to stay up with all those kids. Physically, any one of them could run circles around me at first, but I had a mental toughness that you can't buy. War is the only place to learn that, and either you learn, or die. Those boys hadn't faced the terror yet, but I had for seven hundred and thirty eight days.

The dust filtered in to the cab as the miles clicked away, the only similarity to this war and my war, the war in the jungle, was the heat. Why the fuck can't somebody start a war were its seventy degrees. Back in sixty-nine, it was the rain and humidity; today it's the dust and the sand. Then we threw bodies at the enemy, now its smart bombs and aerial ordinance.

Patrolling this long dirt road, I'm starting to feel more like an armored highway trooper than a soldier. The monotony of the miles and the same stretch of road, were grueling. What the fuck are we doing here? The same as back in my war I suppose, not winning, maybe some things don't really change. We aren't trying to win, we're just here. We're on the ground getting shot at, and barely holding our own.

I know, I know, there are political considerations, civilians to worry about, but tell that shit to the poor mommy that just found out her son was killed for a political consideration. Here I am thinking again, that's the trouble with this goddamned place, too much time to think. Enough about what I think, I don't make the rules; I get paid to follow orders. I made my choice, this is my chosen career.

***

As we arrived back at the FOB, forward operations base, my work could now begin. There was the never ending paperwork, reports to be made, check the troops. Make sure the babies had clean diapers on, get them fed and burped. Remind each and every one of them how important a clean weapon was, hold their hand and tell them a bedtime story. Then to top it all off, I had to fill in the Lieutenant on our days activities. Tell the twerp how many speeding tickets we wrote and ask permission to go out and do it again tomorrow. He would give me tomorrows orders and the rah, rah speech. Maybe some fucking day, he would give me something different.

No shit, the LT cut the platoon a break, all but me of course. They would get to sit around this beautiful resort, while I took a leisurely drive through the country side in my graciously appointed Humvee. Minimal danger the LT had said, minimal my ass, in a country where you can't distinguish a housewife from a combat hardened soldier, nothing is minimal.

"Alright cut the shit and listen up, the LT has given you slackers the day off tomorrow. I will need one volunteer, I need a driver," I waited for a reply, and I waited some more, "Well come on, don't all of you raise your hands at once." A hand appeared in the back, and I waited to see who it was attached to. PFC Kent, sweet cheeks, forty trained killers and my volunteer was an ex cheerleader, swell, just fucking swell.

Kent and I headed out early, zero five thirty, we were to meet the package and deliver our payload to a remote destination eighty klicks to the north. The LT said aerial delivery was too noisy, too noticeable, we were sent in a single vehicle to quickly get in and get out. What were we carrying? I didn't ask, and I didn't care. You learn not to ask questions that you aren't going to get answers for.

As she drove and I sipped coffee, Kent kept looking over like she wanted to ask me the secrets of the universe. I'd had all that I could take and finally asked, "WHAT?" At least she quit looking at me, for a while that is.

She must have driven another twenty miles before she said, "Sergeant, you don't like women do you?"

"I like them just fine, especially with their thighs locked around my fat head," I replied with a smirk.

"You know that's not what I mean, you don't think women should be here in the middle of all this, do you?"

"Kent, what I think doesn't mean squat. You're here and there's nothing that I say or do that will change that fact. I'm an old man Kent, you get comfortable with the way things are, it's not easy to accept change," I said stoically.

She nodded and continued to drive. We made good time. We were on station at zero six forty-five. We didn't have long to wait, the operator arrived and the exchanges were made. From what I gathered, he was American, probably CIA. Not much was said but we weren't here for chit chat. I stowed the cylinder he gave me into the Humvee, maps were my guess.

Knowing that he'd probably been here for quite some time without proper supply, I handed him my flask of bourbon. He took a long swig and smiled. That was the last thing he ever did. The side of his head exploded, and then the report of a rifle came. By the sound delay, a sniper had obviously taken him out. I grabbed the stunned PFC and hit the dirt, she was covered in blood and brains. The sudden shock had rendered her motionless.

I took a chance and recovered my old friend from the front seat of the vehicle, I felt a lot better with my M16 firmly clasped in my hands. There was no doubt in my mind that whoever had killed the agent was still trying to get us in his sights. I had played this game before in Nam, but on the other end of the barrel. I put myself in the snipers shoes, and considered the angle of fire. I took another second to replay the kill shot in my head, the shot couldn't have come from more than three or four hundred meters away.

I couldn't chance trying to locate Kent's weapon, so I jammed my sidearm into her trembling hands.

"Can you use that?" I asked, nodding to the 9 MM in her hand.

All I got back was a blank stare, "Goddamn it Kent, get in the fucking game here. Can you fire the weapon?" I asked a second time, my hands directing her face to mine to guarantee eye contact.

She still couldn't speak but nodded her head rapidly. I had been where she was now, a long time ago in a rice paddy. The first time I saw a man deconstructed by a land mine, I shit my pants and didn't sleep for a week. I had to get her attention right now if we were going to get out of here in one piece.

"Kent, get your shit together, are you with me?" she nodded again, but this time with some recognition, "Ok, I want you to stay right here and keep your head down," good, her eyes were trained on mine now, she was listening. I wiped some of the brain matter from her face, "I'm going over to that rock," I said, pointing to the large boulder twenty meters to our left.

She grabbed the lapel of my coat, "No, please don't leave me here," she begged.

"I won't leave you, I promise. I'm going over to get an angle on the shooter, I need you here to draw his attention. When I take off, I want you to fire two rounds, I don't care where, just fire away from me, ok?" I could tell she wasn't happy but she nodded.

I was about to start the ball rolling when a burst of automatic weapon rounds rattled around the interior of the Hummer. Fuck! Either the sniper had changed rifles or we had another shooter. I fell back to where Kent was, the AK fire continued the pound our vehicle. I had to give Kent credit, she was scared but she didn't freak out.

The bullets kept dogging us, and I loved this shit. No, I'm not totally crazy, I had enough time now to figure out his pattern. He was shooting at us in three timed bursts, then a pause to reload. I didn't have any idea if he was accurate, but he was consistent. I explained to Kent, and after a couple of clips she caught on too.

I got up on my toes and was set to run. I gave her the thumbs up, she even managed half of a smile back. The third burst came and went for it, those twenty meters seemed like a damn marathon. I half expected to be cut down, but I made the outcrop. Now to find out if the bad guy, or guys, knows where I am.

The next burst answered the question, the AK 47 rounds plinked off of the hood of the Humvee. I brought my weapon up to my shoulder, as his finger squeezed, I gave him a copper-jacketed heart attack. The siege seemed to be over, but I still had a feeling that our day was about to get more interesting. I looked over to see if Kent was ok, she was.

It was usual for snipers to work in pairs, a spotter and a shooter. My gut told me that I tapped the spotter. I needed a way to draw him out to get a bead on him, all that was in my arsenal was Kent. I wasn't about to put her pretty little ass on the line, not to save my wrinkled butt at any rate.

If the shooter were smart, he would be relocating. That's what I would have done, and if I move now I might just catch him on the run. Like a fool, I dropped my body armor to lighten the load. I needed speed and not the battle rattle as we sometimes called it. There was no time to even consider whether this was a bad idea, if he had time to set up again we were dead meat.

I charged like Custer toward the dune, I would circle around to the left. There was a better than even chance that I wouldn't cover half the distance, and it was fifty-fifty if I would run into him head on or catch him from the rear. I was nearly to the dune and still no shot, as I rounded the hill my luck ran out.

I got off the first few rounds, but at a dead run, I was hardly on target. The shooter didn't have time to swing his rifle around, but he was quick enough with his pistol. He fired twice, the second bullet slammed into my right shoulder sending my weapon flying. My momentum wasn't affected though, as I continued at full speed directly at him.

I put on my best war face and hit him hard with every thing I had. I tried to hold on as we rolled down the side of the dune. If he got a chance to aim his pistol at me again, the show would be over. As we came to a rest at the bottom of the hill, I got in a hard elbow to his chin sending teeth flying. I jumped to my feet trying to assess the situation at the same time, my KA-Bar knife filled my hand and I didn't see his pistol. The shooter spat a mouthful of blood in my direction as he unsheathed his dagger.

We were at least on even terms now, it would be a hand to hand dance to the death. He circled to my right, trying to exploit the bloody wound in my shoulder, unfortunately for him, I fight left-handed. He struck, I slashed, his thrust, my parry, his blade glinted in the morning sun. Like a cobra and mongoose, the tango continued. The shooter's cheek bled from the razor sharp edge of my steel.

My body began to betray me, my age was becoming a factor for the first time in my life, a life that may be over soon. I saw an opening, and dove in close. We struggled face to face, I was spent, the struggle would be over soon. With all I had left, I plunged my knife deep into his stomach. He returned my gift when his blade pierced deep into my thigh just below my balls.

I fell backwards to the sand, unbelievably he was still on his feet. I struggled to defend myself from the coming deathblow. Three pops from a pistol, and the sniper slumped to his knees. Two more well placed rounds to the back of his head made gaping holes where his face used to be. Kent had gotten into the game, and just in the nick of time.

She ran to where I lay bleeding in the sand, "Sarge, you ok?" she blurted with concern.

The shoulder wound was ugly, but not life threatening. The frog sticker in my crotch was another matter. I was bleeding out, so I sent Kent to get the aid kit from the Humvee. I concentrated on controlling my breathing, hoping to slow the blood flow. I was running the LT's words through my head, "minimal danger", tell that to the CIA guy.

Kent double-timed it through the soft sand to the Hummer and back, she stripped her armor and BDU jacket so she could work. She cut away the bloody material around the knife with scissors, she looked unsure what to do.

"Come on sugar britches, you can do this, remember your training," I reassured her.

" Sarge, there's too much blood I can't see," she sniffed.

"You can do it Kent, see if you can get your belt around it above the wound," I suggested.

She worked as quickly as she could, and in a minute or two had the blood slowed a little. Kent wrapped my leg as best she was able leaving the knife in place, she realized now that we had to get out of there as soon as we could. Grabbing my shirt she pulled for all she was worth, and between both of us, I was on my feet. Kent draped my arm around her neck, we started the painful walk through the loose sand back to the Humvee. The blade imbedded in my leg made it difficult to move, with every step I took, the pain grew worse.

The short trip seemed to take hours, Kent was doing most of the work. Finally back at the shot-up vehicle, she tried to help me get in but I had something to take care of first. It would be a chore to load the dead man by myself but there was no way that I would leave him behind. Kent realized there was no point in arguing with me, she stepped up again and with all the strength we had left, he was laid in the rear of the Humvee. Kent wheeled us around and headed for the FOB. In my weakened condition, I closed my eyes and tried to forget the pain I was in.

I felt the cooling sensation of rain on my face, the pain was gone now. Sand and dust were replaced by the thick grass and trees. The cool sweet smell of springtime filled my nostrils, my lovely Veronica laid back on a blanket, her thick red hair splayed like a halo around her head. With her arms outstretched, she motioned to me to come to her.

We made love by the river for the first time that day, it was the first time and the last time. I shipped out for war the next day, I returned to her but we never really made love again. We fucked, we fulfilled our animal needs, but we never made love again. It was not working well for us and it was worse when I left her alone for another year in the jungle. We married soon after my first tour, but something inside made me restless. I had to go back to try and shake the uneasiness that was inside of me.

I was more at home squatting in the bush waiting for Charlie. My time at home was filled with inner strife, something was missing. I willed myself to make it up to Veronica when I got back to the States. It never worked, I was different, and she was too. We couldn't communicate on the same frequency, too much distance, too much pain. She finally got fed up and went back home. I tried to talk to her a few times, but I think it was more out of guilt than anything else. She was never bitter towards me and that made it hurt all the more.

The unnerving throb in my leg was back, the rain was gone. The Humvee sped down the road that was really no more than a camel trail. The pool of blood I was sitting in was now a thick quagmire of red mud. My shoulder ached, as I tried again to remain conscious. The bumps in the road sent jolts of pain from the knife wound, I felt the slice of the blade deep inside, worse than the initial thrust.

I was drifting in and out now like I was on a three day bender, barely able to remember where I was or what I was doing there. The pain was nothing now, I knew pain and this wasn't it. Pain was the tears in Veronica's eyes as she packed to leave me. Pain was the fear that I would never she her again. The only real pain I'd ever known was attached to Veronica, and for the way I had hurt her.

***

The sun was burning high in the sky now, it had to be near midday. The dogs were probably back at the pound sitting in the shade and licking their nuts, while the cheerleader at the wheel was slaving her ass away trying to save my miserable life. The lazy fucking bastards, they let a girl volunteer to do a soldiers job.

This was no ordinary girl though, she had stepped up where no man would. Kent had done alright, better than alright, I'd be dead now if not for her. She took out that sniper like a trained assassin, her shots were true. That was a soldier on the field today, we were not alive in spite of her, we both lived because of her. A woman soldier, I never thought I'd live to see the day.

There have been a lot of things I thought I'd never live to see, my twentieth birthday for example. The jungle can be a cold hard place at night, waiting, watching, death was always on your mind. What was out there watching you, will it strike tonight? Will I live one more day, one more hour? The fear so thick you can feel it in every thing you touch, each smell, sight and sound coated with the black sticky dread. Don't move, don't breathe, for God's sake, don't touch it. Maybe. Just maybe, it will overlook you one more time.

There was no fear in my heart now, fear happens before battle, it's the unknown, the unspeakable. Now I was able to see my own death, whether it comes today or twenty years from now. I know that it will come and I have embraced that fact. I couldn't see it back then when my wife left me, I didn't see it yesterday. The man laying on the floor in the back of the Humvee, his death has come. His war is over, there is no fear, only peace.

My thoughts were like the little steel orb in a pinball game, slamming into one wall and flying to the next. I suppose this was my version of my life flashing before my eyes, not much of a life really, who would be left to care when I'm gone...

"I would goddamn you, don't be such a selfish prick," Kent screamed over the roar of the vehicle, "Keep talking, you have to stay awake. We're almost there."

I turned my head to look at her, I wanted to tell her it didn't matter, but the words were stuck in my throat.