The Soldier's Mirror

by Jay Zendrowski

  Chapter 15

  Rain greeted us the next morning as we rolled up our bedrolls and took down our tent. Like the rest of the guys, I’d gotten hardly any sleep.

  “Hey chums, buck up,” said Sam as we wolfed down our chow. “All we’ve gotta do is take Caen, then it’ll be free sailing all the way into Paris.” Most of us did manage to eke out a smile at his welcome attempt to lighten the ominous mood. He turned to Harry. “Remember Bumpkin, you and me have a double date lined up with a couple of those high-class French dames. You’re not gonna chicken out on me, are you?”

  “No way, DuPree. If you’re going to Paris, I’m going with you,” Harry replied.

  “What about the rest of you?” Sam asked.

  “Hell yes, gonna get me some of that French pussy,” George said, drawing a laugh from the rest of us.

  “Alright, men,” Capt. Crocker’s voice interrupted us, “time to head out.”

  “Jesus, I hate this goddamned rain,” Johnny said as we piled into the row of trucks waiting for us.

  “That’s just French sunshine, buddy,” Sam replied. “Aren’t you used to that by now?”

  Sam was right, it seemed like it had rained nearly half the time since we’d been here. With the rain, lack of sleep and shitty food, everyone was irritable. I was surprised nobody had socked Sam in his wisecracking mouth yet.

  The trucks pulled out, heading towards Caen. I saw Rusty look back towards the sea, perhaps for the last time.

  “Nuzurka,” Murphy’s voice came to me from the other side of the truck, “did you check that radio out this morning?”

  “Yes, Sir. It’s working fine.” Like every other day, I’d tested it first thing to make sure everything was in working order.

  “That’s good. Capt. Crocker is going to be sticking with us today and chances are he’ll be needing to use that radio more than usual.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I replied with a nod.

  The trucks rumbled on down the narrow country roads, slowing often to manoeuvre around craters created by the bombing barrage prior to D-Day. It wasn’t long before we started to hear the distant roar of what I thought was thunder. Within a few minutes it became obvious that what we were hearing was the sound of guns and exploding shells. Wary looks were exchanged around the back of the truck as we got closer, the sounds of artillery becoming more distinguishable now.

  On the outskirts of the town, the trucks pulled off the road into an area that housed a big building that looked like it had at one time been a factory of some kind. There were a number of smaller buildings set a short distance away from the larger one. It looked like they may have been used for storing different types of materials for whatever they produced or made in the factory. The main building had been partially damaged by the bombing, a few sections of the walls and some of the roof having caved into the structure. The place was a beehive of activity with vehicles and personnel moving every which way. This was the location of the forward base for the Allied assault on Caen.

  “Looks like this is it, boys,” Sam said as the truck jerked to a halt. We jumped out as a corporal in a rain slicker ushered us under a ramshackle lean-to next to the main building. Within a minute or two the other trucks had arrived and the whole platoon gathered together beneath the cheaply-fashioned structure. The rain pelted down noisily on the tin roof above us.

  “We’re to wait here until we get our instructions,” Sgt. Murphy said as Capt. Crocker and Lt. Shapton disappeared into the building.

  “Rusty, are you okay?” I asked, watching him nervously rocking from side to side.

  “Mhmm,” he replied, his lips set in a tight line as he nodded to me.

  “You’ll be okay,” I whispered under my breath to him. “Like I said, stick close and do whatever the sergeant tells you. Got it?”

  He nodded jerkily, continuing to nervously step from side to side. Most of the guys lit up a smoke, trying to quiet the nervousness building inside.

  “Thanks again for this, brother,” Johnny said as he sparked up his Zippo and lit his cigarette, the resonant metallic clang ringing true as he flicked the lighter closed.

  “No problem. I bet you I’ll win that off you in a poker game someday,” I replied.

  “I could never pass up a bet like that. You’re on.” He smiled from ear to ear, but I could see the nervousness within him.

  “LISTEN UP,” Lt. Shapton got our attention as he and Capt. Crocker reappeared, this time accompanied by another captain, his uniform and face covered in dirt and mud.

  “We’re going to be breaking our platoon into two sections; the squads led by Sergeants Miller, Dixon and Chavis will be going with Capt. Rawlings here and assisting his men in the northwest sector. Sgt. Murphy and Sgt. Patterson, your squads will be with me. Capt. Rawlings?”

  “This way, men,” the captain said as he led the majority of our platoon away.

  “Alright, the rest of you,” Capt. Crocker said as he pulled out a map of the town and spread it out on a table beneath the lean-to. “We’ve been assigned to check out a mercantile area in the northeast sector. We’ll be going down this street until we hit the targeted area here.” He drew his finger along the map to show us where we were headed. “They’ve been shelling that area heavily for the past 24 hours. The intel they have at this point is that most of the Germans holed up in this area have moved to the northwest sector where their fortifications are stronger. There may still be a few scattered enemy units trying to hold that area, and that’s what we’ve been sent in to find out.”

  He looked up at our faces, most of us not much older than twenty. I’m sure Capt. Crocker saw a lot of anxious faces looking back at him.

  “Remember your training,” he continued. “Follow procedure, listen to your squad leaders and we’ll be fine. Sgt. Murphy, your squad has been assigned the name of Whiskey 1 for this operation. Sgt. Patterson, you’ll be Whiskey 2. Can I have a radio check, please?”

  Sgt. Murphy pulled the handset out of the pack on my back and called to Sgt. Patterson, who did likewise with his squad’s signaler, a guy named Graham that I’d trained with.

  “Radio check affirmative,” Murphy said after they’d tested out the system both ways.

  “Alright,” Capt. Crocker said as he folded up the map and handed it to Lt. Shapton. “Everyone check and load their weapons.” The sound of multiple shells being chambered echoed beneath the tin roof.

  “Okay, let’s go,” the captain said as he turned and started towards the town, his own rifle in hand.

  The sounds of the bombarding artillery we’d been hearing on the way in had stopped, making way for the ground forces to attempt further advancement. It wasn’t much comfort, but at least when we moved into the town our own guys wouldn’t be bombing the shit out of us.

  As we moved into the town, I was shocked by the state of the place. I had no idea what it was like further ahead, but this side had been totally devastated. The bombing and shelling had ravaged the whole area. Most buildings had been severely damaged, huge sections of walls and roofs missing, bricks and debris littering the streets. It was hard to spot a window that hadn’t been broken.

  “Russo, you’re on point,” Sgt. Murphy said as we turned down a street Capt. Crocker pointed to.

  I had wondered if this would happen. With Murphy unable to trust Rusty out front, I figured that would put either me or Johnny at the top of his shit-list. I guess being responsible for carrying the radio is what saved me from being the sacrificial lamb this time.

  The rain continued to pelt down as we moved stealthily down the street, Sgt. Patterson’s squad hugging the walls of the shops on the east side while we took the west. We trod through muddy puddles, trying to avoid stepping on the scattered bricks and broken glass that were everywhere. We came up to an intersection of another street, and as Johnny stopped and peered around the corner, his hand shot back in a HALT sign. We stopped in our tracks and pushed ourselves tight against the walls behind us.

  “Murphy, Nuzurka,
” Capt. Crocker said under his breath as he nodded for us to follow him. He motioned to Sgt. Patterson who quickly jogged across the street and fell in with us as we moved up behind Johnny. “What have you got, Russo?”

  “I spotted four Jerrys about 300 hundred yards down the street on the other side.”

  “Just four? What were they doing?”

  “That’s all I saw from here. Two were standing in the doorway of a shop and the other two were patrolling back and forth in front.”

  “We need to find out if there are more than just those four. Four we can handle; if there’s more we aren’t seeing, we might need to call for back-up.”

  The captain looked around, his eyes settling on a narrow alley that ran along the back of the shops on our side of the street; the side opposite from where Johnny had seen the Germans.

  “Sgt. Patterson, take your squad and circle back until you’re on the other side of this block. The rest of us are going down that alley. We should be able to get into one of these shops from the back and see what we can find out. I’ll radio when we’re in position.”

  Sgt. Patterson nodded and motioned for his men to follow him as he started back down the street we’d just come up. Crocker and Murphy led the rest of us down the debris-strewn alley. My heart was racing as we crouched along the backs of the buildings and moved forward. Johnny was in front of me and I turned and saw Rusty right behind, his eyes big as saucers. When we’d gotten a couple hundred yards down the alley, Capt. Crocker started searching the backs of the buildings for an entry point. It wasn’t too hard; the constant shelling had ruptured massive holes in a number of the back walls. He stopped and crouched down before pointing to the next building ahead. Most of the building seemed to be intact, save for a collapsed lean-to that looked like a storage area at the rear. Through the collapsed walls of the lean-to, you could see an open doorway leading to the interior of the shop.

  “There,” the captain said quietly.

  Murphy nodded and turned. “Ferguson, Russo, DuPree,” he said under his breath as he motioned to the three men. He simply pointed to the opening and nodded.

  Bill, Johnny and Sam moved forward in single file, staying close to the back of the buildings. Bill nodded to Johnny who ran forward through the crumpled wall of the lean-to and hugged the frame of the open door. He peered inside, leaned back and motioned to the other two. Bill quickly crossed over to the other side of the door while Sam ducked in behind Johnny. When Bill nodded, Sam dashed inside, hidden from our vantage point. A few moments later he reappeared at the door, nodded to Capt. Crocker and gave a thumbs-up sign.

  “Go….go,” Sgt. Murphy said as the rest of us rushed forward, Lt. Shapton and Capt. Crocker right with us.

  The shop was deserted, with junk everywhere on the floors. A decrepit old stair at the back led up to the second floor. From the room we were in, I could see three windows facing the street. Two were broken, large openings from the missing shards mixed in with the grimy opaque glass remaining. The glass that was there was filthy, covered with dirt and soot.

  Capt. Crocker moved forward in a huddled crouch and kneeled down to the side of one of the broken windows. The rest of us moved forward and got low as Sgt. Murphy peered out the other broken window. From my spot further back, I could make out three of the four men across the street that Johnny had seen.

  “There’s the four Russo saw,” the captain said under his breath. “Jesus, I can’t see shit from here.” He turned to the rest of us. “Ferguson, you and Dupree go upstairs and see if you can see anything from up there.”

  Bill and Sam turned and set off up the stairs. We could hear the creaking throughout the whole place as they moved slowly across the rickety floor above us.

  CRACK!

  All eyes shot up as a boot came crashing through the floor, the damaged structure giving way. The boot was quickly pulled from view as either Bill or Sam scrambled away from the ruptured opening. We instinctively held our breath as our eyes flicked back to look outside. The Germans were looking directly towards us, the sound of the breaking floor having drawn their attention.

  “Oh shit!” Capt. Crocker said as he dove for the floor just before a hail of bullets tore into the front of the shop. All hell broke loose as the Germans opened fire. We plastered ourselves on the floor as bullets whizzed through the front façade, shattered glass raining down upon us. The initial volley of gunfire ceased as the Germans stopped to take stock of the situation.

  “Jesus Christ, there’s more of them coming from around the corner,” Chester said as he slipped his sniper rifle over the sill of the broken window and started firing. I saw a man drop in the street as Chester’s bullet found its mark. Seeing the man fall, the other Germans drew back and ducked for cover as they continued to shoot.

  “Fuck me,” Sam said as he and Bill came crashing down the stairs. Tom had taken a spot on the other side of the window Chester was at and started firing. George and Johnny were at the second window while Bill and Sam took spots at the third. Bullets were screaming back and forth across the street as both sides let loose.

  “AAAHHH!” George groaned and spun away from the window to fall face down onto the floor. Harry rushed forward and took his spot as Lt. Shapton pulled George further back. The lieutenant rolled him over and we saw a large red stain blossoming across his chest as his dead eyes looked up at us.

  “C’mon, you fuckers,” Sgt. Murphy growled as he fired through the open windows as well. I saw a German slump forward over a low brick wall across the way, his rifle dropping from his lifeless hands.

  They had our squad outnumbered; there must have been about twelve of them with the ones Chester had seen coming around the corner. From our position I could hear loud shouting in German, the distinct guttural tones ringing clearly across the street.

  “NUZURKA, OVER HERE!” I turned to see Capt. Crocker motioning to me feverishly. I scurried over and turned with my back to him as he pulled out the radio handset. “Whiskey 2 this is Whiskey 1, Whiskey 2 this is Whiskey 1, do you copy?”

  “Whiskey 1, we copy. What the hell is going on?” Obviously Sgt. Patterson could hear the fire-fight taking place from wherever they were.

  “We’re across the street from where the Germans were spotted. We’re taking heavy fire. I repeat; we’re taking heavy fire.”

  BOMP!

  Like kids playing a game of statues, we all became riveted in place as we heard the deep pumping sound of a mortar shell being launched.

  PHEWWWWW…….

  A drawn-out whistling sound rapidly drew closer as we instinctively dove for cover.

  BOOM!

  The shell came crashing through the roof and detonated amongst us. I was thrown against the back wall, my helmet blown right off. Dazed and with my ears ringing, I looked around as the drifting smoke and dust cloud slowly dissipated. Rusty got to his knees and I saw him crawl over to where Tom lay unmoving on the floor. Sam started to get up, but Bill lying next to him did not.

  “Fuck me,” I heard Chester say as he got to his knees and started firing out the window once more. Sgt. Murphy struggled to a sitting position next to his window and started firing as well, as did Harry. I saw Capt. Crocker shaking Lt. Shapton, but there was no response. In a panic, I realized Johnny was the only one left unaccounted for.

  “Ohhnnnn…..” A muffled groan filtered into my ringing ears and drew my eyes to a pile of debris in the middle of the room. The sound was coming from beneath it. I scrambled forward and started pulling away boards and bricks that had fallen in when the roof and floor above had collapsed. Beneath it I saw Johnny, his body unmoving but I could clearly hear low groans coming from his throat. I threw the broken boards and bricks aside as I uncovered him while the others kept exchanging fire with the Germans.

  “Oh my God,” I said to myself as I finally had Johnny uncovered. I was almost sick to my stomach as I looked at him. Like mine, his helmet was missing and his knapsack was hanging loosely from one shoulder. He appeared to be u
nconscious but was continuing to moan in pain. His face was scratched and bleeding, probably from where the materials from above had fallen on him. But it was his midsection that almost caused me to be sick. The exploding shell had torn open a hole right in the middle of his body. Blood was everywhere and I could see the coiled rope of his intestines gleaming wetly beneath a huge flap of skin lying open across his hip. Not knowing what to do, I pulled the flap of skin back over his oozing guts and pressed down hard.

  “Jesus Christ,” Capt. Crocker said as he scrambled behind me and pulled the radio out of my pack. “WHISKEY 2, THIS IS WHISKEY 1, WE ARE UNDER HEAVY FIRE. I REPEAT, WE ARE UNDER HEAVY FIRE AND HAVE CASUALTIES”.

  “We’re on our way,” I heard the Signaler Graham say. “Just a few minutes away.”

  The captain jammed the handset back into the pack and I saw him look around. He jumped to his feet and pushed open a heavy wood door which looked like it led into the next shop. He quickly looked inside and then stepped back.

  “C’mon,” he yelled over the pounding din of the gunfire, “we’ve got to get out of here.” He pointed to the open door as the others looked around. “This way!”

  He moved to the door as the others continued to fire through the open windows but slowly started to retreat.

  “Rusty, give me a hand,” I said as I grabbed Johnny’s shoulder and started to drag him from beneath the pile of rubble. Rusty left Tom’s lifeless body and reached for Johnny’s other arm. Both of us managed to drag him across the floor and through the door into the next shop. The others continued to shoot as they stepped backward before turning and piling through the door as well. Capt. Crocker pushed the door shut and I saw him throw a sliding bolt home just before Sgt. Murphy and Sam slid a heavy wooden counter across the door opening, hopefully slowing down anybody who tried to enter that way.

  “I hope they’ll think we went out the back,” Capt. Crocker said as he crouched down amongst us. “Let’s just keep as quiet as possible. Patterson and his guys should be here in a few minutes. With any luck, we can stick it out ‘til then.”

  I looked around. This shop was much smaller than the last one. The two small windows facing the street were miraculously still intact but covered with dirt and grime. The front door had already been boarded over, large crisscrossed planks going from side to side and nailed into the frame.

  “Ohhhnnn……” Johnny’s moan drew my attention as the rest of the guys looked in our direction.

  “Sssshhh,” I instinctively hissed as I tried to quiet him. The sound of German voices came from the street as they moved closer, the gunfire having ceased.

  “Keep him quiet,” Murphy whispered hurriedly into my ear. I saw the others look in my direction as I bent over Johnny and put my hand over his mouth in order to try and muffle his moans. The German voices outside grew louder and I saw a silhouette move past the dirty glass of the shop window. Chester raised his rifle in the direction of the window but held stock still, ready to shoot only if necessary.

  “Ohhhnnnn……” Johnny groaned again, my hand doing nothing to stifle the agonizing sound.

  “Jesus Christ, Uke,” Murphy said as he put his mouth close to my ear once more. “Shut him up!”

  I heard the sound of footfalls on the wooden floor coming from the shop next door we’d just escaped from. They were just a few feet away now, the heavy wooden door and counter the only things separating us. I heard Johnny start to moan again and, in a panic, I searched for anything to try to muffle the sound. I spotted his knapsack hanging from his shoulder. I quickly slipped it off his arm and put it over his face, the heavy canvas subduing the sound of his groans.

  Louder German voices caused me to turn to the front of the store as more shadows moved across the windows, their voices just outside. I heard Johnny moan beneath me and leaned harder on the knapsack, trying to keep him as quiet as I could. A rattling behind me drew my attention back to the door we’d just come through. We all held our breath as the knob turned, but the sliding bolt held in place, preventing the door from opening. My heart was racing with fear as I leaned forward on the knapsack, knowing one sound could be the end for all of us. Johnny’s body started to twitch but I held firm as I watched the doorknob turning back and forth.

  BANG! BANG!

  The sound of gunfire in the distance came to our ears as we sat as still as possible in the little shop. We heard yelling in German and the footfalls in the adjacent shop became hurried running as whoever was in there took off. Chester’s rifle barrel moved across the shop front as the three men outside disappeared hurriedly in the direction of the gunfire. The sounds of the shooting drew closer, Patterson and his men having arrived just in time to divert the enemy.

  “Oh, my God, thank you,” Sam said as we all let out a collective sigh. It felt like we’d been holding our breath under water for minutes, our lungs about to burst.

  I leaned back and pulled the knapsack off Johnny’s face. He wasn’t moaning anymore. I looked down at his chest and didn’t see any movement. In a panic, I turned and looked at Harry. He saw the stricken look on my face and rushed over. He kneeled down and put his fingers on Johnny’s neck. I held my breath as I watched, my eyes flicking from Harry to Johnny and back again. It seemed like an eternity until Harry slowly withdrew his fingers from Johnny’s throat and looked at me, slowly shaking his head from side to side.

  I sat back and looked at my friend’s lifeless body in front of me, unable to think straight. Had I killed him? I…..I must have. When we dragged him in here, I knew he was badly hurt but we could hear him moaning. Maybe if we’d gotten him back to the base and under the care of a medic, he would have been okay. He….he’d been okay until I’d put that knapsack over his face and smothered him.

  BANG! BANG!

  The barrage drew closer and closer and then we heard English voices yelling back and forth outside.

  “C’mon, let’s get this out of the way,” Capt. Crocker said as he pointed to the wooden counter we’d used to blockade the door. Sam and Chester pushed it out of the way before the captain slid open the bolt. He carefully opened the door and peered through.

  “Capt. Crocker,” I heard Sgt. Patterson’s voice coming from next door. I turned and saw him and a few of his men at the open door leading to the alley. “C’mon captain, we’ve got to go now.”

  The other guys hurriedly filed out, but I remained where I was, stunned and unable to move. I felt a hand tugging at my shoulder.

  “Alex, we have to go,” said Rusty as he pulled at the sleeve of my jacket. I couldn’t move, my body refusing to respond.

  “Son,” I heard Capt. Crocker’s soothing voice as he knelt beside me. He reached forward and turned my shoulder so I had to look at him. “Son, you did what you had to do. There was nothing you could have done for him then, and there’s nothing more you can do for him now. Do you understand?” I nodded automatically, the fatherly tone in his voice breaking through my bewildered state. I saw the captain look at someone behind me and nod.

  “C’mon Alex,” I heard Sam say firmly as he reached down and literally dragged me to my feet and out the back door. Once Sam had me moving, I was okay. We took off down the alley, Sgt. Patterson’s men covering our retreat. Rusty ran along on one side of me, with Sam on the other. I didn’t notice until we were almost back at the compound that I was still carrying Johnny’s knapsack.

  When we got back to the makeshift base at the old factory, we sat beneath the tin lean-to as Capt. Crocker went inside and filed a report on our mission. It had been brutal; Sgt. Patterson had lost two of his guys while we’d lost half of our squad: Lt. Shapton, George, Tom, Bill, and then Johnny. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Here, Alex, take a drink,” Rusty said as he handed me a tin mug of coffee he’d gotten from somewhere. My hands were shaking so badly I nearly spilled it all over myself. The other guys were looking at me warily, unsure of what to say. Rusty sat next to me and stayed surprisingly silent. I was thankful that he’d intuitively kept qu
iet and left me to myself, yet his presence on the bench did give me some comfort.

  “Alright, men,” Capt. Crocker said as he emerged from the building, “they’ve given us some space to sack out in that building over there.” He pointed to one of the small brick buildings set off a short distance from the big factory. I looked back at the captain; he looked as tired and shaken as the rest of us. “I’ve got some paperwork to do, so I’ll be joining you a little later. It’s been a helluva day. I suggest you try and scare up some chow, and then see if you can get some rest.”

  He turned and went back into the building, not even waiting for a salute of acknowledgement; a salute that nobody was in the mood to even think of right now anyway.

  “Hey, buddy,” Sam said as another soldier walked by. “Is there somewhere here we can get some grub?”

  “Yeah,” the guy said as he turned and pointed to the far end of the large building. “Just go in the door around the corner there. There’s a bit of a mess hall in there. You should be able to get something.”

  “Thanks, pal. Much obliged.”

  “Alright, let’s see what they’ve got to eat in this place,” Sgt. Murphy said as he strode off. He seemed to be the only one not disturbed by what had just happened.

  “C’mon, Alex.” It was Harry who spoke this time, coaxing me off the bench and walking next to me as Rusty fell in on the other side.

  “Here, this is yours,” Rusty said, handing me my helmet. I’d totally forgotten about it, having lost track of it after I’d been thrown against the wall by the mortar blast.

  We were able to get some beans, ham and a chunk of bread in the room they had set up as a temporary mess hall. It tasted like shit, but it didn’t matter; I was in no mood to eat and just picked at my food. Except for Murphy, the others ate very little as well.

  The small storage building next to the factory was damp and dark, with the rain dripping through the roof in a number of places. We found some dry spots on the dirt floor and spread our bedrolls out. Most of the guys sat back and lit up a cigarette, trying to smoke away the somber events of the day.

  It felt strange to look around and see so many of the usual faces missing. I could see Rusty missed Tom, the other east-coaster, who he’d been with the longest. He had a sad mournful look on his face, like a dog that’s lost his master.

  I pulled off my gear and sat down on my bedroll. I looked at Johnny’s knapsack for a few minutes, thinking sadly that this was all I had left of my good friend. I reached over and pulled it in front of me. Something glinted at me from one of the little side pockets; his father’s Zippo. It seemed like so long ago that we’d had that confrontation with Murphy and Riddick when they’d stolen it. I couldn’t help but still feel angry that they’d stooped so low to do something so petty.

  I opened the top of the pack and flipped it open. Inside I found a stack of letters held together by a couple of crisscrossed elastics. I used my thumb to flip through the return addresses in the upper left-hand corner. They were all from his younger sister, Maria, the one he’d saved from the attack by their boarder. I remembered how his eyes would light up when he talked about her, or read me little passages from her letters. She had meant the world to him.

  “So, Uke,” Sgt. Murphy said as he took off his jacket and dropped it on his bedroll, “Are you gonna snap out of it, or what?”

  I looked up at him, shocked by what he was saying. I could see the other guys looking at him in surprise as well. Murphy was peering at me with that same smug grin on his face that he always had, like I was an idiot and he knew something that I didn’t. He ran his hand over the bristly stubble of his brush-cut, just like he’d done out behind Finnegan’s tavern that night.

  “Hey, look at it this way,” he went on, “you just saved us from having to deal with one more stupid Wop. You’re doing the world a favour.”

  As his words filtered into my brain, I snapped. Without thinking, I found myself rushing furiously towards him. I could see the shocked look on his face as I barreled into him, sending both of us sprawling to the ground. I was on top of him and started flailing away, the rage inside me taking control. I punched him in the face time and time again as he struggled against me.

  “YOU FUCKER!” he grumbled as he grabbed one of my fists and thrust his hips upward as he ducked his head to the side. His manoeuvre caught me off guard and I went over on my side. He rolled over right on top of me, his squat powerful body now in control. Still furious, I tried to scramble from beneath him but he kept me pinned down as I flailed away with my fists. He had one forearm pressing on my throat as his other hand reached down to his side.

  “I’M GONNA KILL YOU FOR THAT, YOU STUPID FUCK!” He roared at me as his hand came up from beside him, the glistening blade of a knife clutched in his grasp. I realized he must have had it strapped to his calf. As soon as I saw the knife pointed at me, I ceased my struggles, lying beneath him gasping, his other arm still pressing on my neck. I looked up at him, his eyes glinting with rage. His fury had turned his face crimson red. He looked like a rabid dog about to plunge its teeth into its victim’s neck.

  “GET OFF HIM!” The sharp words caused us both to look to the side. Rusty was standing a short distance away, his rifle pointed at Murphy.

  “PUT THAT GUN DOWN, MACNEIL!” the sergeant growled.

  “NO!” Rusty spat back. “Get off him. He’s my friend…..and you….. you’re not a nice man!”

  “Oh, you fucking moron!” Murphy said as he pushed down hard on my throat once more and got to his feet. I was gasping and coughing as I lay on the ground; it felt like he’d crushed my windpipe.

  “Give me that gun, you stupid retard.” Murphy started walking towards Rusty, the knife held out menacingly in front of him. “If you don’t give me that gun, I’m gonna cut your chicken heart out. We both know you’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t have the balls to—”

  BANG!

  Murphy jolted to a stop in his tracks, then staggered backwards a step before righting himself. The next few seconds seemed to move in slow motion. The sergeant looked at Rusty, his eyes open wide in disbelief. The knife slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor as he dropped to his knees. There was a gurgling in his throat and he coughed, blood spraying from his mouth as one hand went to his chest. He looked down as blood flowed from between his fingers. A final rattling sound echoed from his throat as he fell forward, dead.

  My eyes went to Rusty, who stood staring at the fallen body before him. My ears were still ringing from the sound of the shot as Sam stepped forward and gently reached for the rifle in Rusty’s hands.

  “That’s okay now, Rusty,” Sam said softly. “Everybody’s fine. Just let me have the gun now, okay?”

  Rusty nodded and let Sam take the gun, his eyes never leaving Murphy’s lifeless body.

  “Holy shit!” Harry said as he and Chester stood next to Sam. I got to my feet and stepped forward, gingerly rubbing my windpipe, the air finally coming back into my lungs.

  “What are we gonna do?” Harry said anxiously as he looked from Sam to Rusty to Murphy and back again.

  “Harry, you’re gonna go and get the captain,” Sam said, “and then we’re all gonna tell the truth.”

  “But they’ll throw Rusty in the stockade!”

  “Not if we tell the truth. Everybody knows what happened with Alex and Johnny today. Murphy goaded Alex into a confrontation and ended up pulling a knife on him, and then threatened to kill him. Rusty tried to intervene and then Murphy turned the knife on him. When the sergeant came at him with the knife, Rusty had no alternative but to defend himself.” Sam looked at the rest of us. “Is that what you saw, Chester?”

  “That’s exactly what I saw,” Chester replied with firm nod of his head.

  “What about you, Alex?” Sam asked. “Is that what you saw?”

  “Y….yes,” I choked out, nodding in agreement as well.

  “Trust me, Harry,” Sam said as he turned to the young farm boy, “you’ll neve
r be able to live with yourself if we don’t tell the truth right now. We could make up some wild story about what happened in order to try and make it easier on Rusty, but you’d carry that with you the rest of your life.”

  I could see the wheels going around in Harry’s head as he thought about what Sam had just said.

  “So you go and get Capt. Crocker now. If we tell exactly what we saw, Rusty should be just fine.”

  Harry turned on his heel and ran out the door.

  “C’mon, Rusty,” I said as I reached out and took his arm. “Let’s sit down until the captain gets here.”

  I led him away from Murphy’s body and sat with him on my bedroll. He took the canteen when I handed it to him and nervously drank, water running down his chin as his shaking hands had trouble holding the canteen.

  “I….I didn’t mean to kill him,” Rusty stammered, his eyes brimming with tears. “He….he’s not a nice man.”

  I looked over at Murphy’s body, lying lifeless and inert on the cold dirt floor. Rusty was right, he was not a nice man; and now, he never would be.

  Captain Crocker came and stood over the body of Sgt. Murphy as Sam explained what had happened. The captain asked a few questions and then sent Harry back out for some guys from the medical corps. They carted off Murphy’s body. A couple of MPs showed up a short time later and took Rusty away. Sam told Rusty everything was going to be okay and to just do as he was told. The next day the captain interviewed each of us individually. Of the four of us, I was the last to go. I told the same story as the others.

  “Private,” Capt. Crocker said as he looked down at a list of questions before him and then shoved the paper aside, “I know what a hard thing that was for you to do yesterday.” I nodded, knowing he was talking about Johnny. “I also want you to know that I was aware of the way Sgt. Murphy treated you and Private Russo.”

  As I looked up at him, I could see the shocked look in my eyes didn’t come as a surprise to him.

  “Now, I’m sure there was a lot more that happened that I’m not even aware of, and I’m truly sorry about that. I’ve been documenting what I’ve seen and heard and it was only a matter of time before I brought Sgt. Murphy up on charges. Men like him are a disgrace to the uniform. It’s unfortunate for everyone that this……this ‘incident’ occurred before I had that chance.”

  I nodded in agreement, a tremendous feeling of relief flooding over me, just knowing the Captain had been aware of the type of person Murphy was.

  “But I still have to ask you,” he continued, “and I want you to tell me the truth; did you think Sgt. Murphy was actually going to harm Private MacNeil or yourself with that knife?”

  So this is what it all came down to; did I believe Murphy was capable of that? Did I think that he was going to use that knife to carve up Rusty? Or did I think he would have used it on me if Rusty hadn’t done what he did? This is what it all came down to. If I looked into the mirror and had to answer that question to myself, what would I say? I remembered looking into Murphy’s eyes as he had me pinned to the ground; I knew what I saw there. The answer I gave the captain was the same one I would give to myself if I looked in that mirror.

  “Yes Sir, I have no doubt that he would have killed either of us with that knife.”