Howard Sun
P.3
3/01/06
Brothers in Arms
My sergeant once told me that "Every Soldier has two families, one you raised with, and one you raised hell with" My name is Kevin Leggett, Radio Operator for the 3rd Platoon, Fox Company, 2nd Battalion, of 502 Paratrooper Regiment, Part of what makes up the 101st Airborne. Everybody calls me Leggett. With us are our platoon Sergeant Mac Hassay, whose favorite motto is "Shoot first- it pisses the enemy off long enough to make the second shot count!" Our Squad Sergeant, Matt Baker, he is a soft-spoken young man from St. Louis, Missouri, sort of dark and gloomy, but trust me (pause) it is bad idea to get him angry. Some Germans learn it the hard way. It's the last mistaken they'll ever do. And there is Joe Hartsock, but everybody calls him "Red" because of his fiery red hair that deflects every inch of sunlight all the way to Berlin. He got a Scar from a bar fight back in the states, but he never mention why, and don't try to ask him, not if you want a scar of your own. But he's pretty friendly once you get to know him. Next to him is Michael Desola, three passions in life; fighting German, Baseball, and Italian food, that's all you will ever hear from him. And then there were the black sheep of the squad, Allen-n-Garnett. Now, Allen-n-Garnett are two different soldiers, but ever since they met in boot camp, they have been together ever since, Even manage to stay together when they paratroop from the plane. They are our squad jokers, able to find humor is almost any situation. For some reason, they liked to call me boy wonder, every since I said that I like batman over superman, they have been on my case ever since, arguing that Superman are the better one. And there is Johnny Rivas, our one and only artist in our squad, or the only one who have a touch for finer things. If you ever see a guy walking around, full gears and holding a sketch book and a pencil, that's him. He even said he ought to bring more pencil than ammo during the drop, and he doesn't sound like he's joking too.
The Ride to Normandy was bumpy but peaceful. Everybody was silent and fearful, yet exciting of what is happening around them. The only noticeable noise was the constant hums of the engine, but everything else(pause, shakes head a litte) was dead silent. Then, all hell break loose. The entire sky seems to explode, light up by the countless flak fired at us. The tracer rounds are everywhere, reminds me of firework during July 4th, except this time I was in the middle of it. Apparently the Germans have paved a welcome red carpet of death to welcome us. Well, it's not like I was expecting anything else anyway. Of course, just like any other story, it gets worse, up from nowhere, our engine caught on fire!(chuckle) Oh, and it gets better and better, because every passing seconds, we are flying in a burning coffin of death! I heard Allen yelled "We've got to get out of the plane" Mac snapped at him "we wait for the green light", "Garnett reply, "we wait any longer, there won't be a Fing green light" that settles it, Baker commands us to get ready and the plane jump violently and he was out of the door. I patiently wait for my turn, holding on the side of the plane before I was shoved out of the door into the dark night. When I jump I remember what Red said before we board the plane, "We jump together, We all Come Home together", Oh god,(sign) how much I wished it were true.
The drop turn out to be ok, I met up with Mac and Baker near a farmhouse and I spend most of time trying to get an idea of where we are from a freak-out French lady with my equally pathetic French. The next few days went like a routine, find enemy and clear them out. We link up with Red, Allen-n-Garnett, Desola and Rivas as well as other member of the squad. When I met Red, the first thing he did was pat me on the shoulder and said "Jesus, was I glad to see you" It hurts, yeah, but somehow, I could feel the warmth and it was a good feeling.
But on D+3, everything changed. The morning starts up just like any other. With me and Allen –n-Garnett arguing on pointless talks again. It went on something like this.
Allen: All I am saying is logistically, Superman can break Batman in half.
Leggett: Are you saying that Bat-a-Rang is a sissy toy?
Garnett: Yeah, with a name like Bat-a-Rang, Why would anyone want to call it sissy?
Leggett: Superman doesn't even have a cool identity, he just puts on glasses and act like a jackass
Allen: It's a wonder you don't like him. Leggett
Leggett: I happen to like Superhero who have a brain
Allen: Leggett, he can burn thing with his eyes. HIS EYES.
Mac: Alright Boy wonder, Knock it off There is enough bullshit around here to fill a whole swimming pools
Garnett: Why would anyone want to fill…
Mac: DON"T
After the argument, We are suppose to take a farmhouse on that hill near S'Come du Mont, but Mac assign me with Allen and Garnett to take a back route. It was D+3 and 4 days since we dropped, and so far it has been pretty laid back. I guess all that has made me careless and I walked right into an ambush from the Germans.
When the shooting starts, we took cover behind a hedgerow and try to think what to do. Now I think about it, I have never been in any situation like this before, and I was freaked out. The bullets are flying around everywhere, zipping past me here and there. I grip my M1 with my Sweaty hand and try stand up and shoot back, to suppress the enemy. But my legs were frozen dead in track. Garnett yelled "Watch out THEY ARE EVERYWHERE" Allen yelled at me "Hey boy wonder, what the hell do we do now!" Right there, I froze, oblivious to everything around me.
"I have a bad feeling about this" Allen said before he pop up from behind the cover and nailed a German trying to flank us. "We won't last very long if you keep acting like that Leggett!" Garnett shake me violently while firing randomly over the cover with his .45, Allen pop another grenade overhead and I hear some muffle scream from the other sound. How many did you nail? Garnett asked. "Oh, 4 or 5 I recon" "Not bad, I had 6 though" Allen pop right back up and nail another one who poke his head a bit to far. "Make that Six" He smiled. The next few seconds seems like an eternity as I notice a German creeping behind Allen and raise his rifle to take aim at the smiling paratroopers. I try to stop him but I just wasn't quick enough and all I could do is watch the bullet penetrate Allen's chest as his smile fades, faces full of shock. "ALLEN!" I heard Garnett screams as he snap his .45 toward the German and unload all 7 bullets into the that bastard. I quickly tried to try to patch up Allen, which by now was lying in a puddle of his own blood. "Dadaaamn, this wasn't suppose to happen" His faces seemed so pale and my vision was obscured by the tears in my eye. I hear another scream and turn to see that Garnett too was hit. I stare into their blank eyes and at that point, I lost it. I stand up and yelled "YOU WANT ME? HUH? TAKE ME! God Damn it! TAKE ME!" I shot every one of the bastard that was left, but I notice that one of them had throw a potato masher right next to me and all I heard was a loud "boom" before everything went dark.
Three days has passed before I was conscious again, and seven by the time I could think clearly about what happened. Truth is, I don't know what happened nor do I know if Allen-n-Garnett is still alive. But every night memory of that day's event still haunted me; it seems that it was only yesterday too. I couldn't help but blaming myself for what happened to them. What if they died because of my stupidity, how can I ever lived with that? Knowing that I let somebody die, because of my own carelessness.
I was hospitalized for couple month and was finally return to my unit in August. Seriously, if I wasn't so choked up to see my squad again, I would have laugh my ass off seeing Red's O-shaped month, I mean you could stuff an egg, I mean an Orange in it! Well, Baker was getting kind of emotional too, he is still quite and all, but I could see he was genuinely happy to see me. As I walk around the barrack, I notice some new faces I did not recognized. I asked Red where Rivas and Desola, and Red's smile is faded. "I am sorry, but Rivas got shot in the neck and Desola got hit by a 88" I stopped, and try to comprehend what it means, They are dead, no more hearing criticism of lousy Italian food in London and the beautiful Sketches of the bird. They are gone, not just from my life, but forever.
Replacements, funny how the army said that, replacement. For what? My lost friends? They will never be able to replace the friends I lost, so why the hell did they call them that? Why? Those new replacements, their faces all seem so … "innocent" like there is not a thing to care in the world. They reminds me of myself a couple of month ago, when I still believe that every story should have a happy ending, but part of me still wants to hold on to that belief, but the other part is screaming to get away from it. I carefully walked to my room, afraid of that it wouldn't be the same as I left it. I looked up, and in the ceiling was a hole, courtesy of Allen-n-Garnett and one of their in-room bazooka practices. They are on Mac's shit list ever since. Baker insisted that they not to be fixed and we just sort of left it there, one of the things that reminds me of my comrades. As I sit on my bunk staring at that 3 inch hole, I heard someone talked to me "Well well, if it isn't the Boy wonder" "Yeah, Mr. let's fill the swimming pool with bullshit again." "Hey, if you keep on sitting there, I am going to shove a bazooka round in your month, you look ridiculous." Boy wonder, I sat there for a second remembering that only Allen-n- Garnett used to call me that. But they are dead right? I snapped my head back and stare at two figure standing. And alas, there they were, smiling at me. I could still seem some bandages on them, but they look fine. "Only the best of the best, and that bazooka round will NOT FIT" I laughed, snapping back at them. For the first time in a long while, I feel that maybe, just maybe, that my story would have a happy ending after all! Little did I know that in a matter of a week, it would be hell all over again. No matter, I've died once, and I am not going to die again.