Nothing in life is permanent. That is what Matt is thinking as he watches Jason fall into a muddy rice paddy. Jason’s thigh explodes like a shattered lava lamp. He hits the sticky ground hard with a plume of milky blood.
“Corpsman!” Matt yells. “Corpsman!” Jackson is there in seconds. He jams his hands and tools inside the wound. Enemy fire is constant.
“The trees!” Sergeant Randy Miller orders. “”Fire into the goddamn trees!”
Automatic weapons fire blazes the air. Jackson drags Jason to safety, works quickly to clamp the artery shut. But it’s not working. Jason is turning white, going into shock.
After several minutes the firing stops and three Afghans are dead. The area is secured.
Matt runs over to Jason. “How’s he doing, Jackson?” Matt asks.
“We need to get him on a chopper,” Jackson says.
“One’s coming in a bit,” Miller says.
They all know what this means. Matt turns to Jason. “You hang in there buddy. Help’s comin.’” The chopper touches down and three Marines pick up Jason’s stretcher and haul him inside. Matt removes Jason’s dog tags, then lifts his hand in the air, spins it with a circular motion. The chopper is off in seconds and the remaining seven Marines pack up their stuff, prepare to continue their overnight patrol.
Matt slumps to the ground, buries his face between his knees. “It’s not our fault,” he says to himself. “It’s not our fault.” Jackson comforts him as best he can.
For me, this is a potent anti-war story. Because the people who make the wars are never the ones who die in them. Very well told, Matthew, and your dialogue is spot-on.
Tragic and moving.
This is a powerhouse of a story, Matt. One of your best. Peace…
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