Page 38 of Salute, To Bravery

Anders

Pain screamed through my body. The smell of burnt flesh, spilt oil, fire, and blood filled my nostrils. Gunfire, explosions, yells, cries for help, and a shrill scream assaulted my ears. I forced my eyes open and was further attacked by red and orange flames, twisted metal, and bodies everywhere.

There was a haze over everything, and thick black smoke spiralled its way towards the sky. Harsh noises further bombarded my ears, and I shook myself to shrug off the dizziness I was feeling.

Dazed, I looked around, confused and shocked.

I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the pain in my left arm.

Taking stock, I realised we’d been attacked.

Our GMV-S was severely damaged, forced into a shape it should not resemble.

Had I been inside that? The two vehicles in front were also damaged, the middle car nothing but a hulk of twisted metal and blood. Nobody had survived that.

An arm hung out of a gap, the fingers reaching towards me, pleading for help, but it was too late; they were beyond any aid I could offer. A foot lay on the ground, but there was no body nearby. The men and women in the middle GMV-S were gone, ambushed, and murdered.

Turning slightly, I saw the second vehicle was damaged but intact, and the soldiers inside were using it as a shield as they fired on our attackers. Fuckin’ insurgents.

I turned to see where my team was, and my stomach twisted.

Maelstrom lay on his front; his teeth gritted against what must be agonising pain as he shot at the enemies.

His foot was hanging off, and I knew it was a loss.

Denning was behind an improvised shield of our GMV-S door and shooting steadily. Hate was etched deeply on her face.

That rocked me because I’d never seen anything like that on Denning before. DiMarco was using the wreck to cover Maelstrom, who was basically pinned down. My eyes turned toward the scream.

Foster held Rogers in her arms, and my heart sank. He was dead. He’d lost a leg, his ribs were exposed, and there was a head injury. Foster grasped him to her and screamed and screamed.

All this took mere seconds to absorb.

“Corporal! Defend your team; we will mourn later!” I snapped.

Foster’s body jolted, and her tear-stained face rose to mine.

“We’ll all die for the lack of your gun!” I ordered.

Foster kissed Rogers and gently laid him on the floor. Hate crossed her expression, much like Dennings’, and she crab-crawled to cover and took aim.

“DiMarco, lie down covering fire!” I yelled and went after Maelstrom. Bullets peppered the ground around him, and he’d been hit twice. But he kept firing. I grabbed his legs, trying not to look at his mangled foot, and dragged him to safety.

“Tie his foot off and save what you can of his leg. Has anyone called base for air support?” I demanded.

“I have,” Denning said. “Got that little bastard.”

“Who?”

“That asshole from town with his truck. Thought he was suspicious the other day. He was attacking with the insurgents. Not anymore; now he owns a bullet in his head. Traitorous prick,” she snarled.

I looked across at the first vehicle. Their Browing was spitting bullets, and they were pretty well off.

I was the highest-ranked officer, and they were my responsibility.

I moved as fast as I could, which was fuckin’ slow, and made it to their GMV-S and checked on them.

They had one injured, but the rest were alive and holding off the incoming insurgents.

A corporal in the vehicle told me they’d driven straight over an IED, but it hadn’t gone off.

It had taken the second SUV out, and we’d been hit with a Javelin missile, he thought.

They’d also radioed for air support. I nodded and started to make my way back when my knees gave in.

The corporal grabbed me, hauled me inside the vehicle, and began checking me over.

I was aghast when I saw the damage to my right leg.

Well, damn, I thought and passed out.

◆◆◆

Loud noises, harsh bright lights, hurrying footsteps. Pain. Screams and cries for help. Everything was heightened, and there was no stopping the overload. Jumbled words. Amputate. Low survival. Dead on arrival. Ambush. Save them. Blood donations. Loss of limbs. Operate. Infection.

I closed my eyes and wished everyone would fuck off to hell.

◆◆◆

“Wake up, Anders. We need you,” a voice urged.

No. I am quite happy here, it’s nice and dark and warm.

No harsh reality waiting for me, nobody to tell me I’m not whole or intact.

Right here is safe and relaxing. I don’t need to wake up ever again.

Why would I? Once I open my eyes, another battle faces me.

One I do not want to recognise or fight. Nope, staying here is far better.

◆◆◆

“It’s been five days, why isn’t he awake?”

“We can only assume it is the trauma from what he underwent.”

“Wake him the fuck up.”

“Do you know what an amputation in the field is like? No? Then shut up with your demands and let us do our job. Lieutenant’s body experienced a massive shock, and he nearly bled out. With respect, Captain, go away.”

Yeah, I don’t need to be dealing with this shit. An amputation in the field sounds like a shitload of pain I do not want to be faced with. And this darkness is so soothing and nice. Why wake up to a different world? One I know for certain has changed.

◆◆◆

“Tommy, it’s been seven days; we need you to wake up. Jake is not doing good, he’s in a bad way. DiMarco isn’t coping, and Foster is comatose. She is beyond traumatised. She’s being sedated. Rogers is dead, Tommy. Can you hear me? Ed is dead. We need you.”

Damn it, the guilt trip. Well, I'm emotionally scarred; I know I’ve lost a limb somewhere. But there’s no pain here, no facing cruel reality. I’m no longer the man I was. And if I don’t want to face that, I don’t have to.

“Tommy, please, I’m scared; we’re falling apart. I’m lost and not sure what to do.” “Damnit, you should have let me go,” I muttered. A sob met my ears, and Sophie grabbed my right hand and squeezed. It was like turning a tap on, and I screamed in agonising pain.

“He’s awake!” Sophie yelled.

Fuck me, I was fuckin’ awake alright, as agony swamped my entire body. Ten days had done shit.

◆◆◆

“Don’t give a shit, Jake. You’re sitting in that damn chair even if I have to drag you by the throat into it,” I growled at my best friend.

Jake looked at me from eyes that, even after two weeks, were black and blue.

“Fuck you, Lieutenant,” he snapped.

“I can kick your ass,” I snarled.

“Yeah, with what army?” Jake spat.

I lunged out of the wheelchair and grabbed Jake’s waist. His eyes widened as I hauled myself onto the bed, using my one leg to stand.

Jake’s mouth opened just as I punched him straight in it.

Jake sat up roaring as he shoved me backwards, and unbalanced, I fell into the wheelchair but landed too heavily I tipped it over.

The fuckin’ thing whacked my stump, and I screamed in pain as I collapsed.

Guilt hit Jake’s face, and he pressed the call button as I writhed on the floor. Sweat broke out on my forehead as pounding footsteps rushed towards us.

“You are an asshole,” DiMarco called out.

“Which one?” Jake demanded as he leaned over the bed and peered at me. Pissed at him, I reared up despite the pain and head-butted him straight in his noble nose. Jake wailed and fell backwards as I collapsed back to the floor in agony.

“You’re the prick, Sergeant. Lieutenant gave you what you deserved. You’re not the only one who lost a limb, but you are being the baby,” DiMarco sneered.

“What on earth is going on here?” a nurse asked, horrified.

“He broke my nose!” Jake screeched.

“If he ain’t in a chair by this afternoon, come and get me. In the meantime, get me to my bed, and I need some damn pain medication,” I demanded.

“I’ve never seen such behaviour,” the nurse exclaimed.

“Hang around lady, you’ll see a lot more,” I promised and let tears leak from my eyes.

◆◆◆

“I’m worried about DiMarco,” Sophie whispered to me.

I reached out and brushed her hair away from her face. She couldn’t keep it tied back now; she’d lost the fingers on her left hand. Good job she was right-handed. The only one in my team who’d escaped without any outward injuries was Foster.

“We’ll manage, Sophie,” I said.

“How, Tommy? We’re all maimed. Even Foster, in her own way, is. Our future plans just went out the window.”

“Not all. We’ll still open a bar. And we can do some of the other stuff we planned,” I argued.

“Yeah? How about you face up to what happened to us before we look to the future, Tommy? If you can’t accept the ambush, then we’re gonna have shit,” Sophie said and left. Damn, that woman was always hitting below the belt.

The truth was, I’d already faced it. Jake had lost his foot and leg halfway up his calf. Docs were talking about a full below-the- knee amputation. He wasn’t healing well. Jake also had slipped into a depression; today had been the first real sign of life from him.

Sophie had lost her fingers when an insurgent with a machete had crept up behind them. DiMarco had fired on him, but the machete had already done its damage. She’d been the first up and running amongst us.

DiMarco had an arm removed. He’d taken a bullet, and it had damaged the nerves, and his arm was now paralysed. It might as well of been amputated. It was his left one, and no amount of physiotherapy was making the fucker move. DiMarco was permanently disabled.

I’d lost my right leg below the knee. When the initial blast had happened, it had shredded my leg.

It had been a miracle I’d been able to stand on it.

Funny enough, all I remembered was the pain in my arm, which was broken.

We all had broken bones and ribs, but none of us had damage like Rogers had.

He’d been dead the moment the rocket hit us.

It had gotten him direct. Rogers had lost a leg, torn off mid-thigh, and his side had been ripped open to the point of seeing his lung and organs.

There’d been a massive head wound where he’d hit something sharp, and it had cut into his head by at least five inches.

Luckily, he’d not suffered. His bones had been pulverised on his left-hand side.

Yeah, he was lucky he didn’t suffer. But Rogers shouldn’t be dead.

He should be holding hands with Foster. She had gotten out uninjured, apart from cuts and bruises.

Reports stated she fought the Blackhawk crew who came to rescue us, thinking they were going to leave Rogers.

That hadn’t been their intention, but they’d injected her because of her panic.

Since then, she’d been unresponsive—and my next issue to manage.

Captain Shere had been to visit us, but not because he cared.

No, he wanted to know how bad his best unit was.

Well, tough shit, we were in rough condition.

Shere wouldn’t be able to put us in the field.

We would all be medically discharged. Shere had looked pissed when he visited, and I’d pondered telling him we’d not intended to sign back up.

In the end, I let it go; what was the point? One way or another, we were going home.

The docs had already spoken to me about flights, and I was using my rank to ensure we flew out together. But I needed one last person. Foster.

◆◆◆

I stared at the unkempt figure on the bed. Foster would never let herself be seen like this.

“Has she responded to anyone?” I asked.

“No. She is there, but she’s unresponsive. It’s almost as if she’s locked herself away from reality,” the nurse answered, with a small moue.

“Time to wake her up,” I replied as I wheeled myself forward.

“Good luck.”

“Oh, I don’t need it. Kaitlin Foster, open your fuckin’ eyes. That’s an order, Corporal!” I snapped.

The nurse huffed as I watched Kaitlin for a sign.

Minutes ticked past.

“I said right now, Corporal. We never leave a man or woman behind,” I demanded. And there it was, a fluttering of her eyelashes.

“You’re a mess, Corporal Foster. How dare you let your appearance lapse? You should be stripped of rank and disciplined. On your feet!” I ordered.

“Quit shouting at her!” the nurse hissed.

“I’ve known this woman since we were three years old. Do not presume to tell me how to handle one of my oldest friends!” I retorted.

“Tommy, stop bellowing,” Kaitlin whispered.

I shoved my chair forward and caught her slender hand.

“I’m here,” I murmured, rubbing my thumb over her fingers.

“Ed asked me to marry him, Tommy. I said yes. We were married by the Chaplin. We weren’t going to tell anyone and have a big wedding at home. But Maelstrom had worried Ed, and so we got wed quickly,” Kaitlin muttered.

Fuck! I knew Roger’s body was in cold storage, but this could turn into a shitstorm.

I needed Captain Shere on side. And luckily, I knew how to play hardball.

I didn’t think the captain realised I knew about his special time with Sophie.

I’d make sure Kaitlin got all the benefits she should receive.

Even so, this wasn’t the time. Kaitlin was deep in grief, and now we knew why. She was grieving her husband and the loss of a future together.

“You won’t say a word to anyone, not until I’ve spoken to my commanding officer,” I said, turning to the nurse.

Her face turned from stern to gentle.

“No, I won’t. But she needs help; I recommend this doctor; she will understand and act accordingly,” the nurse replied.

“Huh?”

“She’ll be medically discharged due to trauma and PTSD. That doctor will make sure Corporal Foster gets a medical discharge and also gets a medical pension,” the nurse stated, and then turned on her heel and walked away.

I looked down at Kaitlin as she shrank back into the bed and closed her eyes. My injury took second place to the needs of my team.