Every Thought Captive
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 31 Blue Eyes Die
As soon as Face drew back the tent flap and entered the canvas structure, he sensed he was too late. The groan from the man on the cot had dwindled off into a series of whimpers.
One of Murdock's arms dangled over the edge of the cot and twitched in the same manner as Face had observed earlier. The Lieutenant considered draping the limb over the pilot's abdomen, then covering him with the army blanket, but hesitated.
From where he stood, he saw tears trickling down the sides of the Captain's face from closed eyes. Murdock's entire body trembled slightly. He had been around the pilot too much to know that this was not an act. The man was asleep, although it looked like the next few hours would be restless and nightmare-filled.
Backing toward the cot on the other side of the tent, the conman sat down and wiped the lower part of his face with one hand.
If Murdock's asleep, he probably needs it. All I can do is wait and see if I have to intervene to keep him from hurting himself.
It wasn't that the pilot was deep in depression and couldn't be trusted alone. He was ordinarily the cheeriest most optimistic guy the Lieutenant had the pleasure of knowing. Fun to be around.
But sometimes when he sleeps and dreams . . . And especially now, when he seems to think all of us but the doctor and Amy are enemies of some kind, I have to stick with him.
Face frowned a little at the memories of past attempts to wake his friend. Something about those hidden parts of Murdock's military career made him suicidal sometimes when he woke disoriented and thinking he was back in Nam. And it wasn't all due to the torture in the POW camp.
The empty whiskey bottle lay at the foot of the cot where Face was seated. He shook his head in frustration knowing how much Murdock must have drunk before drifting off to sleep. Just because of that the Lieutenant decided he would stay awake and alert in the tent all night.
Let the doctor sleep under the stars. He's part of the reason my buddy's having problems right now. Hannibal will understand.
And even if he didn't, it didn't matter. Face would be there at the first sign that his best friend was reliving the worst of his past. It was what a brother would do for a brother.
A half hour passed before Hannibal stuck his head in to check on Face and Murdock. The Lieutenant noticed the older man's frown deepen as he saw the empty bottle and the pilot's shuddering movements in his sleep. Every few seconds Murdock softly moaned and shifted positions.
"Has he been like that the whole time?" The Colonel opened the tent flap and stepped inside. He kept his voice at a whisper.
Face nodded grimly. "But at least he isn't screaming or scrambling for a gun."
"B. A. said he'll take a shift out there watching for trouble, get a couple of hours of sleep and then spell you in here with Murdock." Hannibal watched the spasmodic twitches increase in intensity as they continued their low conversation. Silence seemed to calm the pilot down again.
"I'd rather . . . " Face began.
"You need some sleep, too, kid. Besides, B. A. practically insisted he have some time in here. He's more concerned about Murdock than he wants anyone to know. You know how he is."
Yeah, I do know how B. A. is. But it seems like Murdock doesn't anymore.
The Colonel continued with a small semi-serious smile. "Constantly threatens to strangle him but he'd be the first to bust through a door to rescue him."
Come on, Hannibal. This isn't the same Murdock that sneaked into Tannini's office with Amy. They've done something to him.
"But if he wakes up and sees B. A. in this confined space with him, how will Murdock react, Colonel? You saw how he responded whenever B. A. said anything. At least I don't pose a threat to him." Face leaned forward on the cot and placed his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together in front of him. Focusing on his best friend's expression, the Lieutenant noted twitches of pain as the pilot wrestled with dream demons he alone saw.
He hoped Hannibal wasn't going to pull rank and order him to leave his friend's side. He would have to refuse. Simple as that.
Hannibal put a finger to his lips as Murdock grew more agitated.
"Where are ya? Where?" The low mutter wasn't very plain at first but grew in volume and clarity even as the pilot's breathing became more rapid.
He's back in Nam . . . I think.
Hannibal threw an arm out to prevent Face from getting too close too quickly. "Just wait."
The Lieutenant impatiently pushed away the older man's arm. "I know. I've done this before. I know the routine. But this might be more than one of his normal nightmares or flashbacks."
"That's precisely the reason I want us to watch and wait."
Face stared at Hannibal and realized he was right. He ran both hands through his hair as he kept his attention on Murdock's obvious desperation.
Murdock repeated the questions, his eyes still closed. He turned onto his left side and bent his knees, tried to curl up.
"Ripcord . . . Ripcord, come in . . . " His murmurings were strangled by a gasping sob. "Where are ya?"
Face scanned his memory for why the name Ripcord was so familiar and then he remembered.
Ripcord was a firebase. Wasn't too far from where we made our escape from Ferret and the other VC guards. The NVA tried their best to take it in the spring of '70. There must have been a lot of casualties and wounded. And my buddy was probably involved in airlifting many of them out of there. No wonder it's causing so much pain.
He glanced at Hannibal and saw from his expression that he made the same connection.
His muscles violently spasming, Murdock bent his right arm and covered his ear with it as if shielding his head from an explosion.
By now, both men hovered over the man on the cot but didn't touch him in case he woke believing he saw VC soldiers instead of friends.
"Saw yer smoke . . . where . . . are ya . . . Ah lost ya . . . come in, damn ya . . . " Another choked sob. He gripped his arm closer to his head. "Too many . . . can't take ya'll . . . can't . . . "
Spasms shook the entire cot and startled him out of his sleep. His eyelids snapped open and he stared straight ahead, his mouth working in a silent scream. He catapulted himself into a swaying semi-crouch as Face put out his hands to steady him.
Here it comes. Is he going to let us help him or fight us with everything he has?
Seconds later the pilot collapsed onto his knees and doubled over, his forehead almost touching his legs. Sitting back on his heels, he clutched both sides of his head and made small whining noises. His whole stance was that of someone in intense emotional agony.
Both men backed away to give him space, waiting for a sign that he had either fully come to his senses or was about to do something which would require them to restrain him.
"Murdock, buddy. Wake up." Face kept his voice soft and calm even though he knew only too well how horrendous the waking nightmare must be for Murdock to react in such a way. He was positive his bouts had been just as bad during the first few years after he returned from the war. He certainly remembered the dreams that caused them.
"Can't save 'im. Can't save any o' them. Where are they?" He lifted his head and stared wildly around the tent. Huge shudders ran through his body as he tried and failed to understand where he was. "Where am I?"
Face put out both hands, palms toward the man kneeling on the floor. "We're not in Nam. There's no one to rescue anymore. You saved as many as you could. You did as much as any man could be expected to do."
"Not 'nough. Never 'nough."
"There were a lot of men who died. You couldn't save all of them, Captain." Hannibal's use of Murdock's rank made the conman wince.
Maybe the last thing Murdock needs right now is to be reminded of Nam and who he was over there. But that's about all Hannibal ever calls him. Why is that?
Too many things were going on for Face to ponder that for long. The atmosphere was charged with the weight of his friend's guilt and sorrow over . . . what? . . . the soldiers he couldn't save? The ones left on the ground or the ones who died because he couldn't get the chopper to the nearest medical facility fast enough?
"It wasn't your fault. You weren't the only pilot flying dust-offs." Hannibal continued with words that Face couldn't remember him ever saying before to the Captain.
Maybe because we were experts at avoidance. Maybe because we forced him to stuff the things back inside that we wanted to forget. Maybe he needed to talk it out more than we did. God help us and him if that's true.
The Lieutenant opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. What could he say? Maybe he should listen for once instead of saying things that served only to slap a temporary bandage on the raw wound.
The pilot gazed at him with eyes that reflected his vulnerability. He seemed so much at that moment like the old Murdock, freshly awakened from a bad dream and asking for Face's help to make sense of it. But before Face could act on what he saw, the window of opportunity closed.
Murdock's eyes crinkled shut at the memory of the brilliant blue eyes pleading with him to lift the Huey into the air. "He died. Looked at me, las' thing 'e did, begged me t' save 'im . . . " He broke off and searched Face's expression for understanding. Taking in a sharp breath, his eyes widened in confusion and pain. He staggered to his feet and, sidestepping the two men, edged backward to the tent door. His gaze was locked on Face's eyes.
"Yer eyes look 'xactly like his. Yer face's diff'rent but yer eyes . . . " The pilot grabbed his jacket from the cot and fumbled behind him for the tent flap.
"Wait. Where're you going? What're you going to do?" Face walked slowly toward his friend, not wanting to spook him any more than he or Hannibal had.
Murdock shook his head as if to clear it. He studiously kept his eyes from meeting those of Face's as he mumbled, "Don' worry 'bout me. 'M okay. Gotta get some fresh air, take a walk, that's all." He swallowed hard once and disappeared out the door.
Both men followed him outside. Hannibal frowned after him as he strode away, slipping the jacket on over his bare shoulders and arms. "Do you have any idea what he's talking about? Was there a particular incident he's remembering?"
Face reflected. There was one time but he thought the pilot had forgotten it in the days and weeks afterward.
Evidently not. And I didn't help.
"Remember those words he said? He drank a whole bottle of whiskey by himself that night, too. I tried to get him to talk to me, tell me about it, but he just looked at me with those haunted eyes and kept drinking. I didn't understand why until now." Face watched as Murdock walked quickly along the campground road to the office.
"Tell me about it. Help me understand what's going on, kid." His eyes on the pilot, Hannibal waited for an explanation.
"What I know about it came from Murdock's crew chief a few days after the dust-off and before we were sent to the Ashau Valley to help with clean-up. It was back in the spring months of 1970. Remember? It was during the evacuation of Firebase Ripcord. There was a young kid badly wounded that was put on Murdock's chopper. The crew chief didn't understand exactly what happened but somehow the kid and Murdock connected. Funny thing is, he didn't remember them saying a single word to each other. The kid died mid-flight to Camp Evans and Murdock took it hard." Face grimaced as he saw the pilot come out of the office, pausing to light a cigarette from the newly opened pack he had purchased.
For several moments Murdock paced back and forth on the dirt road in front of the building, smoking and occasionally glancing their way. As he finished his cigarette, he ground it out with the sole of his black sandal and hesitated before coming back toward them.
"Feel better, buddy?" Face reached out to grip Murdock's elbow as he passed by to enter the tent.
The Lieutenant saw a flicker of something in the pilot's face as he pulled away and pasted on a faint smile. He avoided Face's scrutinizing look.
I can tell a fake smile from a mile away. He doesn't feel any better.
"Yeah. Sorry 'bout the trouble I caused. Think I'm gonna go runnin'. Exercise'll prob'ly do me some good, keep me from havin' any more bad dreams. If ya don' mind, Colonel?" Murdock's eyes had a challenging glint to them as if he was testing the boundaries of what Hannibal would allow him to do.
The Colonel met his steady gaze, shrugged and let him pass. "As long as you stay close to the campground. We don't want Colonel Lynch or anybody from Granite Peak to see you and take you prisoner again."
Murdock's smile faded. "No. O' course not."
"I'll go with you if you wouldn't mind the company," Face blurted before the pilot could enter the tent.
Halfway in the door, Murdock paused. He licked his lips as if nervous about something. When he glanced at the conman the artificial smile was back. "Naw, that's alright. B'sides, yer never able t' keep up th' pace 'n' I don' think I can carry ya back here when ya collapse."
He went inside and emerged moments later wearing a plain olive drab T-shirt, the black cotton pants from the installation and his high top tennies. Without another word, he set off at an easy jogging pace along the campground road, leaving Face and Hannibal behind.
oooooo
Colonel Jackson startled awake. For a few seconds, he stared around him at the shabby décor of the motel room.
Focusing his mind on Murdock, he sensed the pilot had awoken from a nightmare. Jackson frowned as he realized the Captain remembered a time when Lieutenant Peck had taken most of one night to talk him through a similar bad dream.
Can't have that.
Jackson saw the similarity between the eyes of the dying young soldier in Murdock's dream and those of the blonde-haired friend even before Murdock thought it. With a smirk the Colonel planted the idea in the pilot's head.
He won't be able to look at his friend without having those eyes as a reminder of the kid he couldn't save.
He left the motel room in search of a convenience store that sold cola by the case and caffeine tablets. If the Captain wouldn't go to sleep and stay asleep, then he couldn't either.
His friends must not break through to him.