Suzie’s House 469 : Flash Point

“So? What’s the sitch?”

“FUBAR.” Martin’s eyes went wide and his face drained of color. “Nothing but enemy between us and the pick up five miles from here.”

“There’s a field right in front of us!” A soldier behind Walter stage-whispered. “Tell them to change pick up locations!”

Martin dangled the communications equipment and shook his head. The guy next to him grabbed the equipment and tried to use it. A minute later, he was throwing it on the ground and swearing.

“Which way,” Walter asked.

“North.” Martin pointed.

Walter gave him a long hard look, but couldn’t see any trace of a lie. But then, Martin could twist any situation around. Walter sighed. In the last few weeks he’d put some distance between them – as much as a war would allow. He hated relying on the man now, but there didn’t seem to be much choice.

“Alright. Let’s go.” Walter threaded his way through the trees, keeping low and moving as fast as he dared.

Grumbling and jumpy, the rest of the platoon fell in behind him.

A tell-tale shape in the dirt brought Walter to a screeching halt. He’d seen those sharpened bamboo pit traps before. He wasn’t going to fall pray to one now when they were so close to going home.

Martin slammed into his back, sending him stumbling a step or two forward.

“What? What’s wrong? Get moving!”

“It isn’t safe.” Walter pointed.

“It’s nothing. Just go on. We’ll wait here to see what happens.” Martin grinned with radiant humor, though is eyes were wild with panic.

Some day it was going to come down to one of them or the other. Martin seemed to think Walter should be glad to die for him. Walter had had enough.

“Joking! I was just joking. Can’t a guy have a little fun?”

“In the middle of a war?” Walter couldn’t help saying it.

The leaves to their left rustled. Machine gun fire started up that way. Walter ducked down. He painstakingly edged around the trap on the other side. The men fell in behind him. He’d gotten most of the way past it when there was a thud, and the trap door of the pit swung open to reveal the sharpened bamboo poles inside. On the other side Martin stood, grinning.

Walter muttered a strangled expletive and continued on. Soon they reached another clearing. A phalanx of Hueys sat on the ground. Men poured into the field from all sides, filling the choppers. Several lifted off with heavy loads and swung out over the tree tops as he watched. The pit of his stomach turned queasy at the thought they could easily get left behind.

“Come on.” Walter gave the high sign to the other men in his squad. Since their squad leader had died, Walter had been acting as unofficial leader. He intended to lead the charge across the meadow, but Martin slammed an elbow into his side as he ran past, knocking the wind out of him. Walter ended up behind everyone else.

More and more choppers took to the air under enemy fire. One took a direct hit from a rocket and went down in flames. All three of the nearest ones lifted off without them.

“Keep running!” Walter shouted.

Martin tripped and went down. Walter hesitated as he passed, but only for the briefest of seconds. It wasn’t like Martin couldn’t get to his feet on his own. He wasn’t bleeding. He just tripped.

The men piled into the open sides of a chopper, filling it in an instant. Walter managed to shove his way on, but they were already over loaded. He clung to the frame around the door. He couldn’t even crawl all the way in. He’d have to sit with legs dangling. He turned around and planted it.

“Walter! Get out here and let me take your place.” Martin grabbed Walter’s flack jacket.

Walter hit him. All the anger and frustration of a lifetime went into that punch. He slugged Martin in the face, right between the jaw and the eye. Martin’s fingers scraped loose from the jacket just as the Huey rocked into the air.

Between the punch, and the scrape, and the rocking, Walter nearly fell out. He made a desperate grab for the door frame. He wasn’t even fully aware of all the hands that grabbed his back and arms or the way they pulled him into the chopper.

What he remembered – what came back to him in his dreams for the rest of his life – was the look in Martin’s face. The betrayal and disbelief and slack-jawed amazement as the ground fell away was priceless.

If he’d realized it would rack him with guilt for the rest of his life, Walter would never have indulged in his short bark of laughter. Not even for the long second before machine gun strafe tore Martin to pieces.

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