Guns Up! by Johnnie M. Clark

Author:Johnnie M. Clark
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780345450265
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 1984-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

MERCY KILLING?

The lieutenant put Chan and me back together. I was thankful for that, almost as thankful as Rodgers was to get away from the gun.

“Saddle up!” The gruff voice sounded far away. I felt numb over Jack’s death. Not sad. I was too tired of it all to be sad. I felt anger, too. Anger at our incompetent corpsman who didn’t find a stomach wound. Anger at the Army for darkening the sky with helicopters bringing hot meals to Army units that were already too soft while my friend bled to death for lack of a single medevac chopper. But most of all, anger at the gooks.

“Here’s your pack,” Chan said. I watched the medevac chopper fade into the hot morning sun. “You knew him better than I did, but that was one decent man.” Chan nudged me with my pack. “You all right?”

I felt myself sighing. “I wonder if I’ll be sane when I get home.” Chan didn’t answer. I put my pack on. The straps dug into my sore shoulders. It felt heavier than usual, or maybe I was just weaker. I threw the M60 over my shoulder and nestled the hot metal into the little saddle of callus and muscle between my neck and shoulder bone. The never-ending hump started again. I kept hearing Jack ask for his baby. Push it out. Think clear. I wonder how far I’ll walk before it’s over? Fifteen miles a day times thirteen months equals three-ninety-five times fifteen equals…“Chan?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s three-ninety-five times fifteen?”

“Five thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-five.”

“What? How could you figure that so fast?”

“You’re trying to figure how many miles we’ll hump at fifteen klicks a day for thirteen months, right?”

“Wise-turd.”

“How you feel?” Chan asked quietly so no one else in the column would hear. I knew he really cared. I was lucky to have such a friend. Mom always said I made friends easily. I used to think that was good. I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe I shouldn’t make any more friends.

“I’m okay,” I said, though I wasn’t. Nothing felt right. I liked Jack. I liked his wife and I liked his fat baby. I wanted to see that fat baby. I wanted him to know his dad died like a hero. He should have. He didn’t. He died walking along in a war, a war that our leaders didn’t care about winning but that I still did, and I still didn’t know why I felt alone.

“What happened to the rest of the battalion?” I asked.

“They kept going when Jack got hit. Alpha stayed put.”

By noon the treeless, rolling hills turned into a thick jungle. First Platoon dove into the dense bush while Second and Third continued on, just skirting around it. The captain pointed at a narrow path leading into the jungle. Lieutenant Campbell motioned Second Platoon toward the path. Striker took the point and Second Platoon filed down, leaving Third Platoon alone.

The jungle felt so vibrant, so noisy compared to the rocky, rolling terrain we’d just left. Screeching birds filled the tops of each tree.

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