Three Little Snowmen (Damned of the 2/19th)

by Timothy Willard

  "They're dying, Dez, and I can't stop it," Nancy sobbed. "My boys are dying."

  "Lay with Stillwater, Nagle, I'll bandage Bomber's belly." Carter said.

  Nagle laid on me, and I could feel her crying.

  Blackness took me again while John sobbed.

  I woke up again, screaming, struggling. I went limp and looked around. Nancy leaned over me, looking into my eyes.

  "Is he in there?" Hernandez asked, "Or do we need to restrain him again?"

  "I'm all right," I said, "Sorry, Dez, sorry, Carter, sorry, Nancy."

  "It's Hector," Hernandez said, "My name is Hector."

  "Richard. Richard Carter,"

  "Nancy Nagle,"

  There was coughing, "Hey there, sweet thing, I'm John Bomber, pleased to meet you. Are you riding or just watching, sweet pea?" John said. His voice dropped to a mumble.

  "Anthony Stillwater," I coughed. "How's Bomber?"

  "Dying," Nancy answered.

  "Me?"

  "You too," Nancy said.

  I managed to put my arm around Nancy and I held her as she started to cry. I petted her hair as best I could until the sobs stopped. It wasn't until she started to softly snore that I realized she had gone to sleep. I yawned, and put my arm above my head.

  "Tie me down, I'm going under again," I said into the darkness.

  I went under as they were restraining me.

  Since just after daylight, we'd been hearing shouting, banging, and raised voices. They'd untied me and helped me over to take a crap in a coffee can, then led me back. The voices were calling out for survivors, telling whoever was listening that everything was all right.

  We weren't falling for that old bullshit.

  Nancy was lying next to me, her hand cupping my cheeks. She was smiling into my eyes, her brown eyes warm, and every once in awhile she'd lean forward and kiss my lower lip, gentle and careful of my split lips and the stitches she'd put in. It didn't matter that I could hear screaming outside the door, or the thudding of boots on the ceiling, or crashing below us. It didn't matter who was begging, demanding, ordering, at the door. She was warm in my arms, both of us only dressed in T-shirts under the blankets, I knew who she was and where I was, and that was all it mattered.

  ...My Nancy...

  There was a banging on the door, and a voice bellowed out over the wind. Bellowed something new.

  "US RANGERS! ANYONE ALIVE?"

  We all stared at one another. Carter shook his head and mouthed 'don't open the door' to all of us.

  We all nodded, staring at the door.

  My hand fumbled out, and I grabbed my knife, trying to get my hand to wrap around the hilt. Nagle sat up and grabbed a bayonet. Hernandez and Carter grabbed axes and stood up.

  "US RANGERS! IS THERE ANYONE ALIVE IN HERE?"

  I stood up, Nagle next to me, and we stepped between John and the door, uncaring that we were only wearing T-shirts, naked from the waist down. Hernandez and Carter moved up next to me, both of them clad only in boxers.

  Yeah, right. Ranger's my ass; we weren't falling for that bullshit.

  "WE'RE COMING IN!"

  The doors burst open, and we all raised our weapons.

  Bright lights blinded us, and I dropped my knife covering my face as my vision went gray and black, staggering as my center of balance skewed.

  "We got some live ones!" someone yelled out.

  "Drop your weapons!" Another one yelled.

  I felt Nancy pull my arm over her shoulders, and I stood there, in the darkness, as boots thudded on the padded floor.

  "Get a medic up here!" Someone yelled. I felt hands grab me, and heard Nagle snarl at someone to get the fuck off. She went down on the floor with me, pulling me tight against her. My head bounced on the floor and my vision vanished with a liquid snap.

  "Ma'am, set down the knife, let us take care of him."

  "No, you can't take him." She sobbed, but I heard something thunk right before both of her arms tightened around me.

  "Ma'am, you have to let us take him."

  "No. You can't have him." Nancy sobbed, holding tighter.

  Hands pulled us apart, and Nagle was crying as I was being laid back.

  "Please, please don't take him." She sobbed.

  "Ma'am, everything will be all right." Someone told her. "We're here to get you out."

  Her hand grabbed mine, squeezing tight. "Don't take them, please don't take them."

  "What the fuck happened here?" Someone above me asked.

  "Nancy..." I whispered.

  "Sir, move away from the stove, set down the weapon." One of the strangers said. "Do you recognize what I am, soldier? I'm a US Army Ranger; I'm here to rescue you."

  "Take one more step forward and I'll hack your ass down with this axe." Hernandez. "I'm not falling for this bullshit, and I'm not going anywhere with you. You aren't pulling me into the dark and the cold, not as long as I have this axe."

  "Don't touch him!" Nancy screamed. Her hand let go of mine and I felt, more than heard, her scramble away from me. "Bomber! Bomber!" I could hear the sounds of someone fighting.

  "Get your goddamn hands off of her!" Carter. The sounds of fighting got louder, and Carter started screaming Nancy's name.

  I tried to push myself up, and someone put their hand on my chest, holding me down.

  "Sir, don't move. The medics are on their way up."

  "Let me go! Let me go! Don't touch him! Get your hands off of her!" Hernandez was shouting now. I heard the axe land on the ground and the hand on my chest vanished as the sounds of fighting started next to me.

  "Hector, I'm coming," I yelled, managing to grab my knife. I tried to get up but someone grabbed me and pulled me back onto the floor, holding onto my wrist. I kept screaming, "I'll kill all of you! Let go of them! Hector! Nancy! Rich! I'm coming for you! Let me go, they'll die!"

  My head bounced off the tile again and everything went down. Someone stepped on my hand, but I didn't really care. I was numb again, my body not responding to my commands.

  The little lizard in the back of my head was exhausted, but he still kept his hand on the button, trying to keep me alive.

  "Ma'am? Ma'am? I'm Captain Vanding, I'm with the Rangers, please, calm down." A new voice said. I heard someone grunt with pain, and Nancy grabbed my hand again, the same hand someone had stepped on. I could hear her growling, a savage, primal sound.

  "You'll have to kill me before I let you touch Bomber or Stillwater." Nancy snarled.

  Carter and Hernandez were screaming to be let go.

  "Ma'am, it's all right, just set down the knife. Ranger's Honor, we don't mean you any harm." Captain Vanding repeated. "We'll just stand right here until the medics get here."

  "Let me go! Goddamn you, let me go! I have to keep the stove going or we'll all die!" Hernandez shouted. He sounded close to tears. I heard a zip-tie go, and Hernandez started weeping. "Untie me, I have to keep the stove going. Please untie me. It'll get cold and dark and we'll all die. Please untie me."

  Another zip-tie sounded, and the sounds of fighting stopped as Carter began weeping. "He's going to kill all of us. Please let me go; I can't fight tied up. Please, he'll kill us. I don't want to die. Please, let me go."

  "Ma'am, just set down the knife, and I promise you that those two men will get medical attention." The Captain said. "On my honor."

  "Promise?" Nancy asked. She was still holding my hand. "Are... are you really the Rangers?"

  "Yes we are, soldier. What's your name, soldier?" Despite the calm tone, the last was said with authority and command behind it.

  "Nancy. I'm Nancy." She said, and I heard her sob as her hand touched my face. "This one is Anthony. He's dying; his brain is bleeding. Nancy. I'm Nancy. That one's John. His appendix blew and he's badly septic. He's dying, and I can't save him."

  "All right, Nancy. Those two men need help. This is Lieutenant Juliet, he's our medic, let him check your men out." The Captain said. His voice was gentle, careful, like he was tr
ying to calm a panicked animal. "Will you let Jules check that one out, Nancy?" Carter and Hernandez were both still pleading to be let go.

  "His name is John Bomber, he's dying; he has a ruptured appendix." She choked with grief for a moment. "I can't save him. He's going to die, and I can't save him. Anthony is going to die, and I can't save him."

  The little lizard went limp, his hand sliding off the button. My body went warm and tingly, and I felt like I was standing a few feet away.

  "Nancy..." I managed to say.

  "Ant?"

  "I'm tired. Just let me go." I said softly. "It's OK, Nancy. Just let me go."

  Nancy started crying, and I heard the knife fall. She laid on me, holding on to me, her body shaking with the sobs. The little lizard curled up, its eyes closing and its sides heaving as it worked just to breathe.

  "Ant, no. Please no." She wept. "Please don't leave me alone."

  "Get stretchers up here, Jules, start sedating them." The Captain told someone. "Just leave her alone till the other medics get up here."

  "I love you, Nancy." I said.

  "Ant, no. Ant, please." She sobbed. "I love you."

  Warm water pulled me down.

  My Nancy…

  "Suck it up and drive on.

  Walk it off soldier."

  Nuremburg Army Medical Center

  West Germany

  22 November, 1984

  1430 Hours

  The door to the hospital room opened, and someone new walked through the door. Nancy had visited me, and usually came by, despite visiting hours, sneaking in and laying in the bed with me. Bomber stopped by every day, bouncing back faster than me. I'd been questioned on what had happened, but told them I couldn't remember anything. I told them that the last thing I remembered was Fulda, and then waking up in the hospital.

  I lied.

  In the doorway stood a total stranger in BDU's. A large man, he filled the doorway, shined boots to blond flat top, over six feet tall. As he got closer, I noticed he wore Staff Sergeant rank on his collar, and a knife in his boot. The left side of his face was scarred up and he wore an eyepatch. He was smiling as he came in and sat down.

  One of the Rangers?

  "How ya doing, Tony?" He asked me, reaching out and taking my hand. I gave him a weird look. "What?"

  I just glared at him. He stared at me for a long moment, and then sighed.

  "I'm your older brother, dumbass." He smiled. "Do you remember our Father?"

  I shook my head.

  "It doesn't matter. He's downstairs in the gift shop." He peered at my face closely. "They said you might have brain damage, and that your vision's shot."

  I nodded slowly.

  "Well, shit. Dad's going to see what he can do to keep you in uniform long enough to heal up. He doesn't want you to be put out over this." The other man told me. He looked serious for a moment.

  "Do you remember your mother?" He asked.

  Nasty vile dirty useless little boy...

  I flinched.

  "Yup." His tone was serious, along with his expression. "Why couldn't you have lost her instead of me?" He shook himself and then smiled. "I got good news, she didn't see a reason to fly to Germany just because you're in the hospital, and your twin sister is flying in from Panama right now." He looked at me and shook his head, his face serious. "What the Hell happened, Tony?"

  I shrugged.

  "Eleven dead, man, and you don't remember anything?" He asked.

  "Eleven?" I asked. "Who?"

  "Holy shit, your voice does work." He smiled, and then was serious again. "Two MP's who went to check on you. The MP wagon was crushed against the barracks, looked like an avalanche, but they haven't found the bodies yet. The CQ, found dead in the motorpool." He was watching my face closely. "SPC Lewis, who died of an embolism from his legs. SPC Jacobs from someone taking an axe to him. They still haven't found Hewitt or Daniels or the Lieutenant's body. They only found the Lieutenant's car up at the motor pool, but no trace of them. They're officially listed as "Lost and presumed dead by misadventure" in the reports."

  He was silent for a moment.

  "You really don't remember?" He said, taking my hand again. "Goddamn, little brother, you gotta quit getting your ass kicked."

  The Lieutenant...

  I nodded, thinking fast.

  "You're lucky that girlfriend of yours took those correspondence courses." He told me, reaching back down to take my hand. "She pretty much saved you and SPC Bomber."

  I nodded again.

  ...goddamn asshole enlisted puke...

  "Don't worry, man. Nurenburg Army Hospital does good work." He let go of my hand and touched his eyepatch. "I'll sit with you." He took my hand again. "Don't worry, it's not like you were a big talker when we were growing up."

  "Thanks." I said. I found I actually meant it. He was comforting, and his nametag had the same name and initial as mine. Our middle initials were different though. Still, he felt familiar, and having him there made me feel safe.

  Together we sat there in silence, me and a total stranger, waiting on another total stranger.

  I wanted Nancy and Bomber.

  It’s Never Over

  Property of the US Army.

  Use Until Destruction.

  Bomber Family Ranch

  Texas, United States of America

  26 November, 1984

  2300 Hours

  The Texas night was clear and bright, the stars shining down. My right arm was in an immobilizer, and the glasses on my face felt weird. The cigarette felt good, the nicotine washing away the nagging pains that had bothered me.

  Bomber stood next to me, Nancy on the other, and we all stared at the sky.

  "Fuck 2/19th." Nancy said suddenly, breaking the silence of the windy Texas night.

  My Nancy...

  "What do you think happened to him?" Bomber asked, his voice soft in the Texas night. Behind us, the lights burned brightly in his parent's house.

  "I don't know." Nancy said, snuggling up to me.

  I'd been blind when they'd carried me out; Bomber had been delirious from fever and infection.

  But Nagle had just been in shock, sedated like Hernandez and Carter. Carter and Dez had fought with the Rangers, and they'd had to disarm them by force. They'd carried them out in hysterics, strapped down to the stretchers.

  She'd looked over to where she'd chopped up the asshole building snowmen, wanting to gloat over the fact that she'd gotten him back for stabbing her through the breast and cutting her face, for breaking Lewis' legs, for rupturing John's appendix, for killing Jacobs, for breaking my skull.

  The snow had been pink, indented.

  He'd been gone.

  Nancy had admitted she'd screamed until they loaded her onto the medevac, until they'd shot her full of drugs.

  "Tandy gets hungry, I think." I answered.

  The feeling of the icy talon pressing into my wound, then withdrawing, followed by a lewd sucking sound...

  I shivered, and Nancy hugged me. The scar on her face was thick and red, the Army not bothering with plastic surgery on some enlisted female. They hadn't bothered to fix my face, even though they fixed my teeth, but I needed glasses. My face was permanently scarred, with nerve damage in one cheek giving me a slightly lopsided smile and making the nerve spasm when I was under stress. Bomber had bounced back in record time, recovering quickly from the infection and surgery he'd needed. All of us had suffered from frostbite. Nagle's toes were bad, and they'd cut away my earlobes. Bomber, of course, was fine, the Texas fuck.

  Something had happened to me, laying there dying in the dark and cold. Normally the little lizard would go back to sleep, would recede, but since I had woken up in the hospital he had been alert. I felt off, like I was missing something, or maybe something had been added that was alien.

  I had tried writing Nancy a poem to tell her how I felt about her, but had stared at the paper for over an hour, a headache slowly building, before the migraine had sent me to
bed. I tried drawing her favorite picture, a nude fairy that looked like her sitting in an open flower, but somehow I had lost the ability to draw anything. I had tried several times to draw simple things, but my perspective seemed be screwed up.

  It had to be the glasses, right?

  Out in the darkness a cow mooed and a dog barked. The lizard identified both animals, how far away he estimated they were, and which direction, slating the cow as prey and food and the dog as an ally or rival. He didn't like being out in the open, but he liked the proximity of Bomber and Nagle.

  An MP car, undoubtedly sent from Fort Hood, which was only an hour or so away, came to a stop in front of the ranch house. Behind it was an unmarked sedan with DoD plates that came to a halt with the crunch of gravel. As we watched two MP's got out of the MP car, and two men in Class-A uniforms got out of the sedan, one of them holding a folder in his hands. They immediately headed up toward the porch where Bomber's father was sitting on the porch swing, nursing a whiskey and a cigar. They moved with a purpose, but not the kind of purpose we had seen MP's move with when they were out to arrest someone. Already the one with the folder was opening it up, obviously intending to show Bomber's father paperwork of some kind.

  Without saying anything, without hearing what the MP's had to say, we all knew what he held, what they were there to do. There was only one reason to send MP's and guys in Class-A's out to a ranch in the middle of the night.

  Recall orders back to our unit.

  Back to Hell.

  "Fuck 2/19th." Nagle said again, turning and walking toward the house. I dropped my cigarette on the dirt, toeing it out before following her. There was no use in trying to avoid what was coming. Bomber followed, his hands jammed in the pockets of his jacket.

  "Fuck 2/19th." Bomber and I agreed.

  Rage, dark and ugly, boiled inside of me, licking like acid at my soul.

  Fuck 2/19th...

  Sleeping a little too easy?

  It’s okay. We’ve got you covered.