“Shit! Mine!” Hissed Jethro from the middle of the group. They all heard and they all froze.
“Where?” Cherokee Joe whispered.
“Under my foot man, I’m standing on the fucking thing.” Jethro whispered.
“Keep it cool my friend. Just keep it nice and cool. We can fix this thing okay. Jethro just got to keep his shit together and let Joe do his thing right?” Cherokee Joe said kneeling down alongside Jethro.
The rest of the group had moved into fire positions around Jethro and Cherokee Joe, scanning through the rain for any signs of the enemy that may have planted the anti-personnel mine.
Cherokee Joe slid a large hunting knife out of its sheath taped to his webbing. He looked up at Jethro. “Gonna slide this under your boot nice and easy friend. You keep the pressure on ‘til I tell you otherwise okay?” Joe said.
“You got this Joe?” Lieutenant Simpson asked as he sidled alongside the huge man.
“He’s got the radio, boss. Can’t stand the guy to be honest. He snores like bison on heat. But he’s got the radio and we need that right? Yeah I got it if he does what Joe says.” Cherokee Joe replied.
Lieutenant Simpson moved out of the way and into a covering position. Boss of the team he may be but for now he had to let the big man do his job and provide cover.
Cherokee Joe slid the knife across the top of the mine and pressed down hard. His huge bulk easily replacing that of Jethro and his radio. “Okay jump!” Joe snapped and Jethro leaped backwards from the mine and landed ungracefully on the radio set. He looked down at his legs and patted them. Both still there he noted as he rolled painfully away from the mine and Joe.
“Okay, someone drag me that big rock and sit it on the knife.” Joe said pointing with his head to a huge boulder some feet away from him.
Zebadiah slung his rifle and heaved up the huge rock, carrying it over to Cherokee Joe.
“You screw this up man and we both get spread around this damn jungle. Nice and steady just lower it easy like onto the knife. No sudden moves. We all going home for dinner today.” Joe said.
Zebadiah gently lowered the huge stone down towards the knife and the mine. Zebadiah was no weakling either at six foot and well-built but this was one heavy rock he was trying to lower onto the mine like a sleeping baby. This could all go horribly wrong, very quickly, he thought.
He felt the rock as it kissed the knife below it and pausing briefly to look at Joe, who nodded. He continued to lower it onto the mine. As he did Cherokee Joe slid the knife from under it and rolled to one side. Zebadiah felt the rock had settled over the mine and slowly released then quickly jumped face down into the dirt.
“Grenade!!” Jim Harrison yelled, returning fire to where two Vietcong had emerged from the undergrowth and lobbed a hand grenade. Lieutenant Simpson lobbed one of his grenades back at the two men and it exploded on target killing one of the Vietcong.
The incoming grenade had landed at the feet of Jethro Mullen and exploded almost beneath him as he tried to stand and run. The radio had kept him pinned to the ground as he struggled to escape. Zebadiah dived towards him and ripping the radio from his back tried to haul Jethro into cover. As he stood above the dying man he felt the sizzle of a bullet slicing past his head. His attempts to duck were of no use as the bullet had already entered the back of his head and exited at the front, slicing its way down the side. He looked down at the now still body of Jethro Mullen as he felt his knees slowly giving way beneath him. He collapsed onto the dead man and the dark red peace descended over his eyes as he fell into unconsciousness. The last thing he could remember was the strong hands of Cherokee Joe hauling at his webbing. “I got you Razzer man. We gonna get ya home. It’s all cool.” Zebadiah fell into unconsciousness and was unaware of the efforts to get him back to the awaiting chopper. He never felt his body lifted onto the huge man’s shoulders as he carried him the last part of the journey. Lieutenant Simpson had charged at the remaining Vietcong soldier in a rage. He wasn’t prepared to lose men and Jethro’s death was one more than he was prepared to give. He blasted into the undergrowth and smashed his rifle into the enemy’s face. Pumping it over and over into a crushed and destroyed skull. Jim Harrison laid a hand on his shoulder and eased him away from the now lifeless corpse. Lieutenant Simpson shrugged off the hand but stopped. He turned to see Cherokee Joe with Zebadiah on his back and the still body of Jethro on the ground. He turned back to the corpse and spat on what was left of the head.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Joe. We’re done with this shit!” he snarled.
They made their way cautiously to the extraction point, knowing that the explosions and shooting would bring in more troops to hunt them down. But right on cue as they emerged into the clearing the chopper swooped down to pick them up. They loaded the unconscious Zebadiah on first with the care of a new born then one by one somberly climbed aboard. This had not been the straightforward mission they had been told it would be. But none of them ever were.
Chapter 2
It was several days before Zebadiah slowly recovered consciousness. Even as he opened his eyes in the dimly lit medical unit he felt the searing pain of bright lights hitting his retinas. It wasn’t bright at all, but after so long in the dark it was painful. As his eyes slowly adjusted he began to feel the parts of his body rejoining him bit by bit. His leg and shoulder were screaming in pain and his head gave a constant dull thud. Through his blurred sight he saw a shadow approaching over the top of him. He welcomed the shade on his eyes but panicked at the thought of someone above him he couldn’t identify.
“You’re awake. Well done. Take it easy and I’ll fetch you something for the pain.” A soothing voice said from the shadow. The nurse, at least Zebadiah assumed it was a nurse, did some fiddling with his pillows and the bed and gently took a hold of his wrist for a minute before departing.
“Where am I? “ Zebadiah asked to the retreating shadow.
“Safe and in good hands. Relax. Let me get you something for the pain.” The departing voice said and left Zebadiah alone to confront the pain and adjust to the harsh light once again.
The nurse returned and without comment gave Zebadiah an injection and left. He could feel the surge of morphine easing through him and he slowly lost touch with the agonizing pain of his leg and shoulder. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light and he turned his head gingerly to the side. Sitting beside his bed was Cherokee Joe. Cherokee Joe smiled and nodded.
“Good to see you back in the land of the living, Razzer. We thought we might have lost you for a while back there.” Cherokee Joe said.
“And the others? I seem to remember Jethro getting hit. There was a grenade.” Zebadiah replied.
“Jethro bought it, sorry. The grenade took him out and the blast shook that rock off the mine. That’s what hit you after the bullet. The rock shattered and smashed you up pretty bad my friend. But we got you back to the chopper. They went and picked Jethro up next day. Well at least what was left of him, sorry.” Cherokee Joe said.
Zebadiah turned his head away and the memory of the incident flooded back. He flinched as he felt the bullet hitting his head. He couldn’t remember the rocks smashing into his unconscious body but he could certainly feel the damage it had done, now.
“Ah Rasnake, good to see you up and about! Hmm perhaps I should say Sergeant Rasnake!” Came the barking voice of Lieutenant Simpson. He had made his way into the room and up to the side of the bed clutching something in his hand. He tossed them on the bed. A set of Sergeant chevrons.
“Sergeant? What’s that all about” Zebadiah asked Cherokee Joe.
“Lieutenant’s been out causing trouble upstairs my friend. Wasn’t happy about having his efforts ignored and losing a man. You’re going home Razzer. He wanted to make sure you had a decent pension once you got back home to your new wife. Sergeant should help you put your life back together he thinks.” Cherokee Joe said. “Got me some too. Not sure I plan on letting it change my day though. “
Lieutenant Simpson moved back towards the bed. “Home son. You’ve done your bit here. Those injuries are going to need time to heal. Heal a lot better in the comfort of your wife’s arms in your own home. Anyway, they need the beds here and now you’re awake you’re just taking up space and rations. Give our love to your wife right? Mary, isn’t it?”
Zebadiah nodded and winced as he felt the thud from his head.
“I guess maybe you’re right. Be good to see Mary again.”
“Okay Joe let’s leave the wounded hero to get some rest. We’re off out early in the morning so best you buy me a beer or two now, before we go.” Lieutenant Simpson said, slapping Cherokee Joe on the shoulder and heading for the door
Cherokee Joe turned to Zebadiah. “We shall be back to see you before you leave. Enjoy getting waited on here for now. “
Zebadiah raised his good arm to wave goodbye and closed his eyes as he saw them leave.
Home.
Charles Station was situated high in the mountains and forests of West Virginia. The little town had grown slowly as people passed through the region on their way to other places. Few stopped. There was little to stop for back then. The gold was way west and the wealthy were in the north and east. Until they came for the coal there was little to keep a man here looking to make his fortune. The people in Charles Station had been left and ignored for a good few generations to enjoy the deer hunting, the fresh spring waters, and whatever a man could grow for his family in the fertile earth. It had everything a man could want to survive, but nothing of what a modern man would want to live. Zebadiah loved it. He loved the isolation of his smallholding. His father had built it with his own hands. A few pigs and chickens and a garden kept the young Zebadiah fed and the well of pure spring water kept him watered. He had inherited it when his father died. Looking after his mother was his only concern until he had married Mary. Now, as he lay in this military hospital bed, Mary would be taking on his role of looking after mother. He knew she would rise to the challenge and everything would be just as it should be once he returned home.
Mary was beautiful. Long blonde hair framed her sweet pale Irish face and sparkling emerald eyes. Her slim body had been honed to perfection on those mountains. Swimming in ice cold creeks in hot summers and eating food that had never been near a store. Yes she was beautiful. Through closed eyes, Zebadiah thought back to the days before he had to leave his beloved Mary.
They’d met at church, Zebadiah’s natural shyness with women giving way to Mary’s beauty. He had to speak to the beautiful young woman, he had to know the woman with the beautiful green eyes. They’d spent months walking back and forth to the other’s house, getting to know each other, stealing kisses in the dark woods when Zebadiah would walk her home. He’d asked her to marry him and they’d planned a typical mountain wedding but the US Army had gotten in the way. Not even out of his teens and he’d been ordered to go fight for his country. He’d received his draft card and that had put a halt to their plans.
They’d gotten married before Zebadiah had to ship out for his training, spending the night in a cheap hotel as their honeymoon. Zebadiah hadn’t cared about the squeaky bed or the weird smell of cigarettes in the room when Mary walked out of the bathroom in her silky white gown, her hair down, and her eyes shy. Mary had been a virgin but so had Zebadiah.
They’d learned how to touch each other without shame getting in their way, they’d explored, touched, and kissed until they knew every mole and scar the other had. Mary had come to the bed, kneeling down, and Zebadiah had sprung up to meet her. His lips found hers and his hands dived into her silky hair. She shivered beneath his lips and he slowed down his breathing, reminding himself not to just jump on her eagerly.
“Take your time.” A married friend had urged when Zebadiah approached him with flaming cheeks, needing answers more than he needed to keep his pride. “Don’t rush her. Nature will take its course. Just be gentle and go slow.”
Zebadiah loosened the ties of the gown at her shoulders and the silky material pooled at her knees. He remembered gazing at her naked pale flesh, her high round breasts tipped with rose colored nipples, and her trim waist, leading to a small triangle of blonde hair.
“You’re breathtaking!” He’d whispered as she looked at him expectantly.
His mind played through the scenes, taking him from the pain and grief of the moment, to a time when he’d been the happiest. His Mary crying out in pleasure beneath him, or eagerly pulling him down to the creek behind the house to get on her knees and take him in her mouth.
He and Mary had done things together he’d never dreamed of, things he didn’t even know you could do, and Mary eagerly took part in those things with him. But the one scene that replayed the most in his mind was that first time Mary had exploded in his arms as he stroked into her. He’d never seen anything as beautiful as that.
His heart had broken to leave his new wife, that hadn’t been a part of their plans, but now her memory worked to get him through the darkest, loneliest of days. He remembered her soft pliant body in his arms, thought about how her hair felt on his face, and it pushed the darkness away. His life became his memories and a fierce determination to make it home, even before he was injured. Now his restless days in bed were spent recuperating and thinking of Mary. Home couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter 3
Zebadiah was in a head spin as he walked out of the barracks back in Norfolk, Virginia and headed for the bus. He leaned heavily on a cane to compensate for his weak leg. He was still able to hoist and carry his hold-all over his other shoulder though. That had been his goal as he went through endless therapy, to repair his damaged body. Going home was wonderful. Going home under his own steam meant everything. He climbed aboard the bus that would take him the first part of his journey to Charlotte, North Carolina. From there he would pick up another bus that would get him to Charles Station. He was initially alone on the bus until two teenage girls clambered aboard, chatting and giggling. They went quiet as they saw him sat half way down the bus. Dressed in his best uniform, now carrying his Sergeant chevrons and medal ribbons. They looked at him and then at each other and started giggling again as they made their way past him to the back seat. They were these new “Hippy” types, Zebadiah guessed. Both were wearing thin tie-dye T shirts and incredibly short denim shorts, frayed at the edges and leaving little to the imagination. Zebadiah was at first shocked, but then smiled. Mary didn’t need to dress like that to impress him. These girls were beautiful but Mary was amazing. He sank comfortably back into his seat as the engine started and the bus pulled away.
The bus climbed onto the freeway and on it he sped through the day, pulling over just as the sun was setting outside a small diner.
“Gonna take a break here folks if that’s okay. Even drivers need a bathroom break. Get yourselves something to eat. They do a fine burger and the apple pie is a real treat. All homemade, none of that modern junk. We’ll set off again at seven.” The bus driver called down the bus as he opened the doors. The two girls, still giggling and chatting were off the bus almost as quickly as the driver and rushed over to the diner. Zebadiah checked his pockets for his cigarettes and took his time working his way down the bus. He stepped down from the doors and the driver was standing blowing smoke from his newly lit cigarette.
“You take your time getting what you want son. We won’t be leaving one of our heroes behind. No worries on that score.” The bus driver said. “Tell Annie in there I recommended her apple pie. She’ll take good care of you.”
Zebadiah made his way into the cozy little diner. A young couple were sitting in one of the booths, too engrossed in each other to notice the hobbling soldier make his way slowly inside. He settled himself into a booth just as the two girls emerged from the bathrooms and noisily made their way into a booth next to him.
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br /> Annie, the owner came over quickly to Zebadiah flourishing a notepad and a smile.
“What can I get you Sergeant? Coffee?” she asked brightly.
“The driver recommended your apple pie Ma’am. I think a piece of apple pie with coffee would be just fine thank you.” Zebadiah replied.
“Aww, old George loves my apple pie. He’ll be getting himself some once he gets in. You won’t be disappointed Sergeant. Make it myself I do." Annie said as she moved quickly to the counter and the coffee pot to get Zebadiah his coffee. She bypassed the two girls in the next booth as they tried to flag her attention. “Be with you as soon as I’ve seen to the Sergeant honey. Don’t worry, the bus won’t be going without you.”
Zebadiah sat back in the comfort of the simple but charming booth. There was nothing like this in Charles Station. Ma Quigley at the grocery store would sell coffee and malts and had even set up a little table in one corner of her small shop, but nothing as welcoming as this. In fact on a busy Saturday afternoon with the locals grabbing groceries, it was the last place someone would sit for a relaxing coffee. He was a good few hours from Charles Station yet. Simple as the town was, Zebadiah missed it. He was looking forward to living the simple life again. For now he would enjoy the journey.
Annie the owner had arrived with his apple pie as he was finishing his first coffee. She’d brought the coffee pot with her and refilled the mug in his hand.
“You enjoy that pie, Sergeant? I have a feeling a strong man like you will be ready for a second piece so I kept you one by, just in case.” She winked at him.
Zebadiah smiled awkwardly and thanked her. Apart from Mary, he had no real experience with women and he could feel his face reddening at the attention. In the booth next door he could hear the girls giggling and this just added to his discomfort.
Looking over at the counter with its line of barstools he saw the driver sitting and enjoying himself a piece of apple pie and a coffee. He turned to nod at Zebadiah and then went back to his own food and chatting to Annie.
Professor next Door Page 16
