Page 73 of Walking Wounded

It was a nice thick log, old hard wood, but Will couldfeelthe rounds hitting the other side of it, stripping away bark, snapping off limbs and leaves. Wood debris flew around them like shrapnel. A ceaselessthunkthunkthunkthunkof bullets, chewing the log to pulp.

Sergeant Delmore Bradshaw, who they all called “Del” in non-combat situations, was a composed, thoughtful man. Quiet, he preferred reading the books his wife sent from home to conversing with the rest of the boys, but it never came across as antisocial or unfriendly. He had a peaceful face, one that made you feel instantly reassured, and Will was glad to have him as a section sergeant.

But let the enemy fire on them, and the man turned into a lion.

“Get down,” he repeated, shouting above the noise of gunfire. The top of the log exploded in relentless showers of wood pulp just above his head. Will noticed, the way he always seemed to notice unimportant shit during tense moments, that Bradshaw’s air mattress was sticking up above the log. “Don’t put your heads up or they’ll blow ‘em off!”

Crouched in the dirt beside Will, Finn muttered, “I’m damn sick of getting shot at with Russo guns. How many motherfucking countries does it take to put together one damn army, huh?”

In the crowd of ten men hugging the dirt, Will spotted Murray clutching at the rosary he wore beneath his dungarees, rocking side to side with his eyes shut, praying.

“Murkowski!” Bradshaw shouted. “You ready with your bazooka?”

“Yes, sir!”

“The second they stop, I want you–”

And suddenly it was silent. Either they were out of ammo, or there wasn’t another belt to feed nearby. Or they thought they’d–

A twig snapped, a small muffled sound fifty yards out.

“They’re coming,” Will whispered.

Bradshaw nodded.

In a flurry of movement that defied physics, Ski scuttled up to the log on bent knees, fitted the bazooka over the top, looked once, quickly, and fired.

Boom.

Bradshaw peeked over first, hand held out to hold the rest of them at bay. Then he nodded and stood. “Good job, kid.”

“Yes, sir.”

They walked up the hill and found the gun, which was indeed a Russo as Finn had said. The Chinese had run out of ammo.

“Take it or spike it?” Finn asked, and Will could tell by the gleam in his eyes he’d like to have it, a Russian gun in place of a Russian scalp as a trophy.

Bradshaw shook his head. “It’s too heavy. Spike it.”

Finn did the honors, grim-faced.

That night when they made camp, Bradshaw said, “Well, shit.” Everyone crowded around and saw that his air mattress looked like a very large dog had got hold of it, chewed full of holes. And covered in splinters to boot.

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Bradshaw had an idea. A good one…but a risky one. Risky, Will had learned, was a Marine specialty.

They were dug in on the side of a hill, holding the Chinese troops on the other side at bay after having surprised them that morning. Bradshaw had been on the radio for an hour, trying to get a mortar section to their location, but the mortars were busy elsewhere.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and spat a dirt-colored glob of saliva into the grass. They’d been kissing soil for hours now, firing off blind rounds with the bazooka to suppress any advance. “We gotta shake it up.” He stared at his boots a moment, head tilting side to side, then nodded, decision made.

Will watched this from the next foxhole over, a flutter of excitement that tasted a little of fear in the back of his throat. Throughout his time in Korea, he’d learned that excitement and fear affected his bloodstream the same way…but that he wasn’t scared to death like he’d always thought he’d be. Something strange had awakened in him, something dormant and previously unknown. As it turned out, the animal that slept beneath his ribs was a predator; it had fangs and small, mean eyes. It kept him quick, and alert, and forceful when he needed to be. It protected his brothers in arms.

It was that animal that reacted when Bradshaw looked over at them and said, voice low, “Maddox, Murdoch, I want you two to stay put.” He explained the plan to them, and Will felt Finn vibrate beside him, his own animal quivering in anticipation beneath his skin. Maybe it should have been strange that the corporals and sergeants always allowed them to work together, but their superiors had come to see their bond as an asset. They worked well together, and the NCOs were smart enough to step back and let them continue to do so.

“Yes, sir,” Finn said, corner of his mouth twitching. Not a grin, but almost.

The company packed their gear, climbed out of their foxholes, and began a slow, deliberate march back down the hill, and on down the road. Will twisted to look over his shoulder, remembering that walk when he’d taken it earlier, knowing exactly at which point the Chinese on the other side would be able to see the retreating Marines. The company disappeared from sight, yellowish puffs of dust clouding around their boots and settling slowly back to the road in their absence. Then they were gone, and it was silent.

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