And when the wind in the tree-tops roared, the soldier asked from the deep dark grave: "Did the banner flutter then?"
"Not so, my hero," the wind replied.
"The fight is done, but the banner won, thy comrades of old have borne it hence; have borne it in triumph hence."
Then the soldier spake from the deep dark grave: "I am content."
Then he heareth the lovers laughing pass, and the soldier asks once more: "Are these not the voices of them that love, that love--and remember me?"
"Not so, my hero," the lovers say, "We are those that remember not; For the spring has come and the earth has smiled, and the dead must be forgot."
Then the soldier spake from the deep dark grave: "I am content."
-A Soldier's Faith--Oliver Wendell Holmes
Chapter 6
A Soldier's Fate
Mac and I were driving down a dusty road, heading towards Green River. Gunny and Webb had left to find a hospital for the dying man. Mac had quietly scooped the bullet out from my side, as I gritted my teeth. She had cleaned my wound and tore a piece of cloth from one of the shirts I had brought along, as a make-shift bandage. Then we began our mission. On our journey we crossed lush green fields and cows and horses taking cool sips of water from sparkling lakes. She tried to point out to me the beauty around us as a conversation piece, but I was lost in thought.
Before the tender moment I had witnessed between Mac and Webb, I'd been numbed by my perpetual movement--by my tireless need to find her. But, since then time seemed to have frozen, to help me relive my pain, and therefore to amplify it almost unbearably.
I kept on wanting to say something to her, but every time my mouth opened, no sound came out. Repentance had shamed me of my former sentiment, brief though it was, for Webb. He could've died from all the injuries that he had, that was plain to see. Before we left he had slipped back into unconsciousness. How could I have been so selfish? I continued chastising myself, my thoughts intermittently interrupted as I occasionally glanced over to Mac. I could see that Mac was agonizing over him, too. I saw it in her eyes and in her features. Her thoughts faithfully rendered all her emotions in her furrowed brow, and her misty eyes. She looked up and caught me scrutinizing her.
"Harm, are you okay? You haven't spoken a word, or even made a sound, since we left. It looks like you want to say something but you can't find the words," she stated, looking at me. Anguish seeped into her dark eyes. I decided not to increase her tormented feelings--any more than they could refrain from torment. I turned my head so she couldn't read my expression.
"I'm just thinking of things," I said coyly, trying to play it off.
"About what?" she inquired, while placing a hand on my shoulder. My whole body trembled lightly at her touch. It was odd that something so simple would do that to me. Perhaps it was because, to me anyway, my love was known, and unable to be retracted. Or, perhaps it was also because we were endeavoring on another mission to save the world, and for some reason, the ending didn't seem so cut and dried--no matter how it turned out.
"About the missiles and how we are going to destroy them." Technically, I had been thinking of that, too. Her hand was still placed upon my shoulder, and I had to finally look at her. My heart leapt out of my chest, and then jerked back in and up into my throat.
"Don't worry, we'll get the missiles."
"Mmmm--" is the only thing I was able to reply.
She paused a moment and then continued, "Harm, I-I just want to thank you for saving us. I thought all hope was lost, and that Webb and I would die on foreign soil. I prayed that help would come. I prayed that I would see you again. You don't know what we went though in there. What Webb went through in there - for me."
I could see tears escaping her forlorn eyes, she tried to wipe them away quickly. She didn't believe it was fit for a soldier to cry, especially on the battlefield. I took a hand off of the steering wheel and placed it on her cheek, wiping the tears that were making little streaks through the dirt on her lovely face. She smiled weakly as I rested my hand there. Her skin was soft.
"You're safe now. It's over."
"I should've known you'd find some way to convince the Admiral to let you rescue us. Always the swashbuckling hero." I hadn't told her yet everything I had to do to come to her aid. And that was not the time.
"I wish that were true." Mac understood completely, what I uttered quietly.
"Thanks for coming." I took my hand away and gave her the brightest smile I could muster, just for her.
"Look!" Mac pointed to a Mennonite farmer working sturdily in his pasture. A freshly washed, silver bi-plane gleamed in the sun, near his barn.
Before I knew it we had talked the old gentleman into using his plane. I had to give him what little money I had, the keys to the truck, and our ID's, but eventually, we were off. For some reason, feeling the wind in my hair and being so close to the sky that I felt as if I could touch the blueness, it made me feel free. I started to feel my optimism return about the outcome of our mission.
"You okay up here?" I yelled to Mac, over the hum of the engine and the whirling blades.
"Better than the last time I was up," she assured me.
"Come on, Marine. Tell the truth," I challenged laughingly.
"Okay, not really. I feel like crap and on top of that we're in the air. I just hope you can fly this thing. Your previous record makes me wary," she teased.
"Have a little faith in me, will you?" I chortled.
"I do," she assured me as we soared over the landscape.
We continued pleasantly on our way, until Mac turned partially in her seat.
"Down there! That's the truck!!" she informed me.
I grabbed the dynamite that I had taken from the farmer's shed, requesting Mac to take the reins of the plane. She acceded to my request dubiously. As we flew over, the terrorists saw us and began rushing to their weapons. They fired at us, and I had to do some fancy maneuvering to keep them from hitting us. I hurled a stick of dynamite at the truck, missing it, but effectively taking out a few of the men shooting at us. More people started firing at us and bullets riddled the back of the plane. Not good.
Mac went in low again and this time, I didn't miss. We barely escaped as another round of fire was shot at us. I took control of the plane again, and tried to speed our little plane back to safety.
Then all of my nightmares came glaring to life. The engine sputtered, and then it failed. We were now gliding. I tried to keep control, but it was hard. There wasn't anywhere to land. As far as the eye could see there was only dense jungle.
"Harm!!"
It happened so fast. The belly of the plane scraped across the pointed tops of the trees. And then the plane dove into them. First the wings came off. Piece by piece the plane was ripped to shreds. I felt nothing. It felt almost as if I wasn't there. We finally hit a huge trunk and came to a halt. I saw Mac thrown out of the plane and hit the ground with great force. She laid there prostrate before the surrounding trees. I could do nothing, as I was crunched into my seat. And then black nothingness clasped a cold hand around my body and mind.
I woke up to find anguish wracking my body. I could see blood splattered everywhere. My only thought was that somehow I had to get out of the plane. I couldn't see Mac anywhere. I had to find her.
I moved a little and bellowed in pain. A sharp piece of metal from the plane had embedded itself into my leg. A quick examination told me it didn't pierce through to the other side. I took a deep breath and grabbed the piece in two places. Then I tried to quickly pluck the piece out of my flesh. It only ended up searing my leg with a misery I couldn't recall ever suffering before. I cried out in agony. After pausing for a moment, and steeling myself against the impending pain, I attempted to withdraw the metal piece again, but this time with more force, and found a weak point. The piece broke in half. I writhed and screamed.
Eventually, I eased the remaining piece out and grabbed what was left of the shirt from my bag, and bound my leg tightly, to prevent myself losing anymore blood. I glanced around the ground, and still couldn't locate Mac.
You'd think that Mac would've heard me. The fact that my reverberating cries had received no response worried me. I slowly departed from the plane that had imprisoned me and fell to the ground. I laid there for a while, panting. Blood soaked the shirt and my pant leg. Shuddering from the chill in the air, I tried to get back up, but all my paltry attempts were pathetically futile. I'd lost too much blood to move. So, I yelled out for her.
"MAC! MAC! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
The only reply I received is deafening silence. GOD HELP ME P-PLEASE! P-PLEASE---' was the last thing I had drumming through my mind before I felt my body turn impossibly cold, and I succumbed to the dark temptress--oblivion.
End of chapter 6
"Not so, my hero," the wind replied.
"The fight is done, but the banner won, thy comrades of old have borne it hence; have borne it in triumph hence."
Then the soldier spake from the deep dark grave: "I am content."
Then he heareth the lovers laughing pass, and the soldier asks once more: "Are these not the voices of them that love, that love--and remember me?"
"Not so, my hero," the lovers say, "We are those that remember not; For the spring has come and the earth has smiled, and the dead must be forgot."
Then the soldier spake from the deep dark grave: "I am content."
-A Soldier's Faith--Oliver Wendell Holmes
Chapter 6
A Soldier's Fate
Mac and I were driving down a dusty road, heading towards Green River. Gunny and Webb had left to find a hospital for the dying man. Mac had quietly scooped the bullet out from my side, as I gritted my teeth. She had cleaned my wound and tore a piece of cloth from one of the shirts I had brought along, as a make-shift bandage. Then we began our mission. On our journey we crossed lush green fields and cows and horses taking cool sips of water from sparkling lakes. She tried to point out to me the beauty around us as a conversation piece, but I was lost in thought.
Before the tender moment I had witnessed between Mac and Webb, I'd been numbed by my perpetual movement--by my tireless need to find her. But, since then time seemed to have frozen, to help me relive my pain, and therefore to amplify it almost unbearably.
I kept on wanting to say something to her, but every time my mouth opened, no sound came out. Repentance had shamed me of my former sentiment, brief though it was, for Webb. He could've died from all the injuries that he had, that was plain to see. Before we left he had slipped back into unconsciousness. How could I have been so selfish? I continued chastising myself, my thoughts intermittently interrupted as I occasionally glanced over to Mac. I could see that Mac was agonizing over him, too. I saw it in her eyes and in her features. Her thoughts faithfully rendered all her emotions in her furrowed brow, and her misty eyes. She looked up and caught me scrutinizing her.
"Harm, are you okay? You haven't spoken a word, or even made a sound, since we left. It looks like you want to say something but you can't find the words," she stated, looking at me. Anguish seeped into her dark eyes. I decided not to increase her tormented feelings--any more than they could refrain from torment. I turned my head so she couldn't read my expression.
"I'm just thinking of things," I said coyly, trying to play it off.
"About what?" she inquired, while placing a hand on my shoulder. My whole body trembled lightly at her touch. It was odd that something so simple would do that to me. Perhaps it was because, to me anyway, my love was known, and unable to be retracted. Or, perhaps it was also because we were endeavoring on another mission to save the world, and for some reason, the ending didn't seem so cut and dried--no matter how it turned out.
"About the missiles and how we are going to destroy them." Technically, I had been thinking of that, too. Her hand was still placed upon my shoulder, and I had to finally look at her. My heart leapt out of my chest, and then jerked back in and up into my throat.
"Don't worry, we'll get the missiles."
"Mmmm--" is the only thing I was able to reply.
She paused a moment and then continued, "Harm, I-I just want to thank you for saving us. I thought all hope was lost, and that Webb and I would die on foreign soil. I prayed that help would come. I prayed that I would see you again. You don't know what we went though in there. What Webb went through in there - for me."
I could see tears escaping her forlorn eyes, she tried to wipe them away quickly. She didn't believe it was fit for a soldier to cry, especially on the battlefield. I took a hand off of the steering wheel and placed it on her cheek, wiping the tears that were making little streaks through the dirt on her lovely face. She smiled weakly as I rested my hand there. Her skin was soft.
"You're safe now. It's over."
"I should've known you'd find some way to convince the Admiral to let you rescue us. Always the swashbuckling hero." I hadn't told her yet everything I had to do to come to her aid. And that was not the time.
"I wish that were true." Mac understood completely, what I uttered quietly.
"Thanks for coming." I took my hand away and gave her the brightest smile I could muster, just for her.
"Look!" Mac pointed to a Mennonite farmer working sturdily in his pasture. A freshly washed, silver bi-plane gleamed in the sun, near his barn.
Before I knew it we had talked the old gentleman into using his plane. I had to give him what little money I had, the keys to the truck, and our ID's, but eventually, we were off. For some reason, feeling the wind in my hair and being so close to the sky that I felt as if I could touch the blueness, it made me feel free. I started to feel my optimism return about the outcome of our mission.
"You okay up here?" I yelled to Mac, over the hum of the engine and the whirling blades.
"Better than the last time I was up," she assured me.
"Come on, Marine. Tell the truth," I challenged laughingly.
"Okay, not really. I feel like crap and on top of that we're in the air. I just hope you can fly this thing. Your previous record makes me wary," she teased.
"Have a little faith in me, will you?" I chortled.
"I do," she assured me as we soared over the landscape.
We continued pleasantly on our way, until Mac turned partially in her seat.
"Down there! That's the truck!!" she informed me.
I grabbed the dynamite that I had taken from the farmer's shed, requesting Mac to take the reins of the plane. She acceded to my request dubiously. As we flew over, the terrorists saw us and began rushing to their weapons. They fired at us, and I had to do some fancy maneuvering to keep them from hitting us. I hurled a stick of dynamite at the truck, missing it, but effectively taking out a few of the men shooting at us. More people started firing at us and bullets riddled the back of the plane. Not good.
Mac went in low again and this time, I didn't miss. We barely escaped as another round of fire was shot at us. I took control of the plane again, and tried to speed our little plane back to safety.
Then all of my nightmares came glaring to life. The engine sputtered, and then it failed. We were now gliding. I tried to keep control, but it was hard. There wasn't anywhere to land. As far as the eye could see there was only dense jungle.
"Harm!!"
It happened so fast. The belly of the plane scraped across the pointed tops of the trees. And then the plane dove into them. First the wings came off. Piece by piece the plane was ripped to shreds. I felt nothing. It felt almost as if I wasn't there. We finally hit a huge trunk and came to a halt. I saw Mac thrown out of the plane and hit the ground with great force. She laid there prostrate before the surrounding trees. I could do nothing, as I was crunched into my seat. And then black nothingness clasped a cold hand around my body and mind.
I woke up to find anguish wracking my body. I could see blood splattered everywhere. My only thought was that somehow I had to get out of the plane. I couldn't see Mac anywhere. I had to find her.
I moved a little and bellowed in pain. A sharp piece of metal from the plane had embedded itself into my leg. A quick examination told me it didn't pierce through to the other side. I took a deep breath and grabbed the piece in two places. Then I tried to quickly pluck the piece out of my flesh. It only ended up searing my leg with a misery I couldn't recall ever suffering before. I cried out in agony. After pausing for a moment, and steeling myself against the impending pain, I attempted to withdraw the metal piece again, but this time with more force, and found a weak point. The piece broke in half. I writhed and screamed.
Eventually, I eased the remaining piece out and grabbed what was left of the shirt from my bag, and bound my leg tightly, to prevent myself losing anymore blood. I glanced around the ground, and still couldn't locate Mac.
You'd think that Mac would've heard me. The fact that my reverberating cries had received no response worried me. I slowly departed from the plane that had imprisoned me and fell to the ground. I laid there for a while, panting. Blood soaked the shirt and my pant leg. Shuddering from the chill in the air, I tried to get back up, but all my paltry attempts were pathetically futile. I'd lost too much blood to move. So, I yelled out for her.
"MAC! MAC! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
The only reply I received is deafening silence. GOD HELP ME P-PLEASE! P-PLEASE---' was the last thing I had drumming through my mind before I felt my body turn impossibly cold, and I succumbed to the dark temptress--oblivion.
End of chapter 6
