Chapter 11

There was no where to sit so Chief led his leader over to where a jeep was parked and sat on the hood. It had not been here long, it was still warm. He just hoped it wasn't going anywhere soon. They sat in silence watching the hustle and bustle. The jeep driver returned and they left their perch, moving on to a pile of equipment that was stacked nearby. It was getting late, Chief looked at his watch. The hour was past, there was no bus and the orderly had finished his break and gone long ago.

Chief was getting antsy. Where was the bus? It crossed his mind that the orderly had lied. Maybe he should go find him and ask him what the hell he was playing at. Damn liars, can't trust nobody. He leaned forward preparing to get up but stopped when Garrison put his hand on his arm. Chief sat back and turned to see what was the matter.

"Just wait." It was said quietly which was not unusual but Chief thought the man looked pale.

"You wanna lay down?" he asked as he made the gesture for sleep.

Garrison just shook his head but he closed his eyes for a moment before opening then and with a wan smile he said, "Just wait." All thoughts of hunting down the lying orderly vanished and were replaced by worry about his friend.

With all the noise of jeeps, trucks and tanks, the arrival of another truck was un-noticed until it pulled up beside the hospital tent. Chief jumped up and taking Garrison's arm began leading him over to the back.

A Corporal wearing a red cross armband jumped down from the back and went around to the passenger side door. He began unloading boxes of supplies. The driver came around the back. Chief approached and said, "Hey, I godda get my CO back to England."

"This ain't no taxi. This here's for wounded American soldiers."

"He a First Lieutenant in the US Army and he's injured."

"Don't look injured to me." The driver, a Corporal, sounded tired. Chief wondered briefly how many trips he had made. He almost felt sorry for him until he spoke again. "Sides the Doc's got the list of who goes an' you ain't on it."

He made to push past but Chief stepped in to block his way. He was too close to let this slip away. He triggered the release dropping the knife and raised his hand as the blade snapped open. "He is now," he said with deadly calm. "Our boat was torpedoed, an' now he's deaf. He needs to get on that hospital ship an' you're gonna take him there."

He felt Garrison's hand on his arm and heard him say his name, warning him to stop but he ignored it, he was past caring. Asking wasn't working so now he was doing what had to done.

The Corporal swallowed hard and blinked. "He kin sit on the floor in the front."

Chief resisted the increasing pressure on his arm to glare for a moment to make sure the driver knew he was serious and not to try anything funny. His fear appeared to be real so Chief stepped back. The driver hurried to the hospital tent, obviously glad to escape as the other soldier carried the boxes in behind him. Chief led Garrison to the front of the truck and opened the passenger door. Inside the seat had been removed but there was a place where a man could sit. The ride would be uncomfortable but it would get him to the ship and a ride home. Garrison climbed up and sat to one side. There was room for two to squeeze in but he figured he would wait until the last minute. The less time he had to sit like that the better.

He stood to the side and watched as the wounded were loaded in the back. Some of them looked really bad, missing limbs, bandaged heads. This was what war was really about, not what they did. They risked getting killed but these guys… If they survived, how were they going to live? He tried to picture what kind of job a one legged man could do or a guy with only one arm. Of all the rotten thing that had happened in his life at least he still had all arms and legs.

The last of the stretchers was loaded and he was looking to get in beside his leader when the driver came out carrying a duffle bag with MAIL printed on the side. He brought it up and stowed it where he had expected too sit. He watched as Garrison tried to shift over, putting the bag on his lap to make room but knew there was to way he would fit. He touched his leaders arm and indicated that he would be in the back.

There was no room in the back to sit so he stood, feet apart, one hand holding a roof support, the other, the side of a stretcher. The engine roared to life, transmission engaged and with a lurch that would have floored him if he had not been braced and holding on, they were on their way. The roads were smooth at first and Chief relaxed, he knew it was going to be long trip, so the first lurch pulled his hand from the roof and sent him to his knee. He managed to stand but the rest of the trip was rough. Unable to anticipate the moves he was thrown against the stretchers stacked on either side and thrown forward and backward without warning. He clung to the supports and hoped Garrison was all right. He could see the obstacles up ahead but had no cushioning. He was going to hurt real bad by the time they got to the ship.

Finally the truck slowed and came to a halt. There was a short wait which Chief welcomed at first but it also meant no fresh air coming in allowing the smell of blood, urine and engine fumes to accumulate. Chief's stomach heaved as the soldier beside him vomited. He moved to the back and lifted the flap.

He could smell the sea and hear more vehicles. By peering around the edge he saw the hold up. Vehicles were streaming inland, jeeps, tanks and trucks, some towing artillery, others loaded with crates and boxes. He wanted to jump down but feared being left behind so he contented himself with watching. The medic joined him.

After about an hour they began to move, this time slower and without the roller coaster effects. Suddenly there was a blaring of horns and the truck slammed to a stop jerking Chief forward then back. A few yells and curses and they began to move again, turned a tight corner then reversed. Finally they stopped and Chief heard the cab door open then slam. He hopped down and moved to the front. He heard the medic jump down as he opened the passenger door. The mail bag was handed down then Garrison gingerly eased himself out of the truck. He looked ill. Quickly Chief looked around but there was nowhere for him to rest. Fearing getting separated in the throng of soldiers, vehicles and commotion, he took Garrison's arm and led him toward the boat that was being loaded with wounded. The MP who was guarding the gangplank stepped in front barring their way.

Anticipating the problem the wounded Officer identified himself, name, rank and serial number as well as the branch he worked for. The MP considered the two who stood before him, then stepped back and nodded. The stepped up and boarded the boat. They were on their way home at last.

As they crossed the deck the medic from the truck they were on spotted Chief. "Hey, give us a hand with the stretchers, will ya?"

Chief saw Garrison move to the rail so he followed the medic. Two trips later he was back on board but he could not find his friend anywhere. Peering down on to the pier he thought he saw him so pushed his way through the crowd and made his way ashore. Once there he kept one eye on the shuffling vehicles and one eye open for the officer. He dodged past another ambulance but could not find his quarry. Turning back he saw the gangplank being raised. He had missed his chance. Well at least Garrison was going back. He would get to a hospital and the docs would fix him up.

As the boat began to move he suddenly had a thought, 'what if he thinks I ran?' Now he was worried. 'He knows I wouldn't', he thought. Did he really or was he trying to convince himself. He tried to think back to any time he might have given him the impression that he might. There was that time at the very beginning when he said he would follow who ever was left standing. That wasn't good except Garrison was the one left standing so he was going to follow him. Right? And the time with Destine? They had straightened all that out. Hadn't they? Other than those times there was no time that Garrison could doubt his loyalty. "He trusts me. He's gotta trust me."

"Yes, I trust you."

Chief spun around at the sound of Garrison's voice. "Whadda you doing here?" He turned to look at the boat that was now yards from the pier then back at the man who stood behind his shoulder. "I thought you were on board."

"I was," he said as he smiled, "but when I couldn't find you I thought you were having trouble getting back so I went looking for you."

Chief couldn't help but return the smile. "I was doin' the same."

"I guess we weren't meant to be on that boat." Something prickled on the back of Chief's neck and he turned to look at the boat that was now cruising out to sea. Was that mist or just distance that made it look ghostly. The prickle moved down his spine and the hairs on his arms stood up. He turned away quickly. He did not want to know and certainly did not want to watch, just in case.

"Lets get out of here." He started to move away.

"We should wait for the next one."

"No," he said abruptly and continued to move away from the water without looking back leaving Garrison no other option but to follow. It was not until he was well away from the water that he stopped. As eager as he was to get back, they would not be leaving that way.