The Things They Carried
Scout carried dogtags from his brother named John, the only one who had ever served in the military of his family. He would wear them with pride and dignity. In the late evening, after a day's match, he would go to his room and while reading in bed, stroke them for good luck. He would imagine rollerblading down the streets of Boston. He would sometimes sniff them, knowing that the scent of gunpowder was from his own work and not his brother's service tour. His brother was now at a mental institution. John wrote home once before they diagnosed him unfit to return. On the letter were the words "They won't stop coming" scribbled over and over again. The letter wasn't about the war, but about the dreams of going home, Scout just knew it. The letter weighed 0.16 ounces. The dogtags weighed 0.46 ounces. Scout would play with the tags around his neck and would toss his comic book off to the side. He would have dreamless nights.
The things they carried were largely determined by necessity. Among the necessities or near-necessities were painkillers, can openers, pocket knives, sunscreen, lighters, matches, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, rations, and two or three canteens of water. Together, these items weighed between 12 to 18 pounds, depending upon a man's habits or rate of metabolism. Heavy, who was a big man, carried extra rations; he was especially fond of "sandviches" stuffed with ham. Medic, who practiced field hygiene, carried a toothbrush, dental floss, and disinfectant as well as an extra pair of gloves. Scout, who wouldn't admit to being afraid but was very much afraid, carried tranquilizers until he was shot in the head out in Dustbowl in mid-August. By necessity, they all carried an extra set of clothes which weighed, more or less, 2 pounds. They carried emblems signifying how long they'd been on term; the men who had been around the longest carried just a bit more weight. Very few carried hats. Pyro carried a box of matches. Until he was shot, Scout carried 2 to 3 cans of radioactive BONK!, which for him was a necessity. Sniper, the most bearable of the bunch, carried blank postcards from Australia. Soldier carried medallions that he had crafted himself. Demoman carried his Scrumpy into battle because he couldn't fight sober. Spy carried a deck of cards and often tried to engage the others in a game, only to stab them in the back later. Figuratively.
Almost everyone carried photographs. Scout carried a photograph of his brother John in uniform, shortly before his departure. He stood ramrod straight, all business and serious matters. After the click and flash, John regained character. He laughed and swooped down upon Scout, had pulled him into a noogie. Scout should've given him a photo before he left. An ounce of paper was more than a fair trade for a few ounces of reassurance.
What they carried was determined by field specialty.
As a street punk from the gangs of Boston, Scout carried a scattergun, a pistol, and his favorite aluminum bat which weighed 17 ounces. He carried the weight of a promise to return home to his mother.
As per his profession, Sniper carried a bolt-action rifle which weighed 8.6 pounds. He also carried the weight of his father's disappointment, a burden which hung heavily against his chest.
As a doctor, Medic carried a satchel filled with morphine and plasma and surgical tape and sheet music and all the things a doctor must carry, including his bonesaw for especially bad wounds, for a total weight of nearly 20 pounds.
As a big man, therefore a machine gunner, Heavy carried "Sasha" which weighed 330 pounds unloaded, but which was almost always loaded. In addition, Heavy carried between 20 and 25 pounds of ammunition draped in belts across his chest and shoulders.
The typical load for a man was 25 rounds. But Scout, who wouldn't admit that he was scared, carried 32 rounds when he was shot and killed at Dustbowl, and he went down under an exceptional burden, more than 15 pounds of ammunition, plus the rations and water and BONK! and all the rest, plus the unweighed fear. He was dead weight. There was no twitching or flopping. Sniper, who saw it happen, had nothing more to say than that the kid just fell over like he usually did when he tripped. Except this time he didn't get back up. It was like watching a rock fall – just boom, then down – nothing fancy or dramatic or even the least bit heroic – nothing special, Sniper said, the poor kid tripped.
On ambush, or other night missions, they carried peculiar odds and ends. Spy always brought his camera beard without explanation. Heavy brought carrots to improve his vision at Spy-Medic's suggestion. Sniper carried his huntsman; ammo, he claimed, would never be a problem. Demoman carried moonshine and an unhealthy dose of paranoia. They all carried false hope that tonight was the night.
Other missions were more complicated and required Soldier's "balls of steel" speech. In mid-August, it was their mission to destroy the tunnels in Dustbowl. To blow the tunnels, they crafted a bomb and threw it in a cart. Called it a work of art. They drew numbers. Before Scout died there were 9 men on the team, and whoever drew the number 9 would crouch beside the cart and inch it towards the tunnels. It would have been faster to push if more hands were on deck, but they needed to fight, too.
On August 16, when Spy drew the number 9, he stared at them in disgust but moved into position. Nothing moved. No clouds or birds or people. As they waited for the bell, the men roughed each other up, otherwise not talking, feeling sympathy for Spy but also feeling the luck of the draw.
Heavy ate a chocolate bar. Scout had a can of BONK! and ran around in circles.
When the alarm sounded, Spy rushed for the cart. Amazingly, he made it to the end without a single scratch or tear in his suit. All he had to say for himself was, Naturally. Right then, Scout was shot in the head by a rocket. There was blood everywhere. Pieces of Scout. Is not possible, Heavy exclaimed, Scout is dead. Scout is dead, he kept saying, which seemed profound – the guy's dead.
They carried with them the death of a man just barely in his twenties.