The Walk…previously A Walk in Darkness…unedited and incomplete…

The blistering sun rose from the endless horizon. I sat on the concrete T-wall and watched as the fiery planet came out of the darkness. It is 0600 and the thermometer read a hot 98 degrees. “I am in hell. How does anything live in this godforsaken place?” Sweat streams down my face. I scrape my razor down my beard. There is no need for shaving cream or water. The heat has soaked me to the bone.

My section sergeant, one Paul Smythe came and sat beside me. We have been friends from day one in this third world country. He poured water into his helmet and smeared shaving cream over his beard.

“What’s going on, brother?”

It is impossible to sleep in this type of weather. We, that would be the soldiers here with me, had an office that was crammed to the max with cots. A window unit air conditioner kept it semi-cool. The temperatures would drop to a cool ninety degrees at night. Then, you would freeze to death. I was miserable.

There were eight of us at this small camp in the middle of nowhere. Paul and I were the only two up.

“Are you ready for another day, Paul?”

He nodded. We needed few words to express our disdain at being in this hostile land for fifteen months.

“Yeah. I might as well be ready. It is not like we are to be released early. What else are we going to do?”

“We could complain about the food, I guess. Although, the locals have not tried to wipe us off the face of the planet yet.”

“Yet, hoss. They haven’t tried yet.”

Both of us laughed. It is only a matter of time before we are attacked. It is the nature of warfare. Still, every day that we are not attacked is a good day. I washed my face and leaned back against the barrier.

“I have never missed home the way I do now.” I have lived in Europe for a couple of years. It is nice enough; it isn’t home but there is plenty to do.

“Do you have anything planned when you return to the States?”

“I don’t know, yet. I am headed to Colorado. If I have survived.”

“Looks like today is the day, brother. We’ve got company. “Out of the nothingness of the desert a swell of people walked toward our camp. They had their weapons raised into the air.

They continued to march toward us. We watched as they came forward. So far, they had not exhibited any hostile intent. I turned to Paul. “Don’t start without us, brother. I am headed to get the boys.”

“You better hurry.”

I rushed back to the small building. “We have company! Grab your gear and get to the pad.” They grumble and roll over. I lost my temper. “GET UP! TIME NOW!” They rolled out of bed and grabbed their gear and followed me to the T-Wall. Paul gave us our marching orders.

“This could be nothing. Or, it could be a world class knockdown drag out. Take up positions that give you a clear line of fire without endangering your brothers. If this gets ugly do not let us get flanked. We will all die if we are flanked. Go it?”

“Got it,” we shouted in unison. Paul and I walked out to meet the locals. Adrenaline surged through my body. I took my weapon in hand. “I am not going to die here today.”

“It’s ride or die time, brother. This is not our first time. You know where my letter is to my wife, right?”

“Roger. You know where I keep mine, right? If I should not make it out of this, do me a favor and give it to my wife.”

“Of course.”

“One last thing, I don’t trust anyone else to do it.”

“Sure, ask away.”

“If I lose a limb here…don’t let me go home like that. Put a bullet in me. Use one of their weapons to do it. I wouldn’t want you to go to jail for keeping your word to me.”

“I gotcha. You’re going to be fine.”

“The world is full of people who thought they would be fine.” Paul laughed. The crowd pushed in around us. A young man, no older than 25, stepped out from the crowd. He was the ringleader of this ever-growing circus. We watched as he pranced back and forth in front of his crowd.

“Death to America, “he shouted into a megaphone. He was dressed in a black robe; a gas mask was strapped to his right leg.

“Oh joy,” I growled. “They brought a professional instigator.” Our eyes never left the ringleader. “Do you have that riot control grenade on you,” Paul asked.

“I have it.”

“Pop him, I’m tired of hearing his mouth.”

I dropped the solid rubber grenade into the tube, a small smile crossed my lips. Without another word, I pressed the trigger. The grenade slammed into the instigator’s chest; the snap of bone could be heard by everyone. He dropped to the ground with an oof.

Shocked, the crowd backed up. They began to murmur. I walked up to the instigator and knelt beside him.

“Hey, are you okay man?” He groaned. Tiny shards of bone protruded from his robe. He refused to answer me. I tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, man. I asked if you were okay. What happened to you?” He groaned again and tried to shove my hand away. I backed up.

I treated the instigator for shock. While I took care of him, I spoke to him. “Why did you guys have to come screw with us? We’ve only been here for two days.”

The crowd began to disperse. Paul watched me work, our soldiers came and stood beside him. “Do you honestly believe we wanted to come here and screw up your country? Heck no. We wanted to be home and watch our children grow up. But no…”

He has not responded, so I checked his breathing. His chest continued to rise and fall. In the distance, I heard the medic shouting out orders.

Rough hands grabbed me and shoved me aside.

“What happened here,” the medic shouted at me.

“Man, somebody shot this poor fellow.” The medic stared at me incredulously. He shook his head and bit down on his lip.

“No crap.”

“Nah man, for real. This fool showed up with a crowd of people and shouted, ‘Death to America.’

“So, you shot him.”

“Potato, Potatoe. I was fearful for my life, man. If that crowd had swarmed us, we’d all been dead.”

“Whatever. He me get him in the vehicle.”

We loaded him up. I watched as the vehicle rushed him in the direction of the medical camp.

“It’s going to be a long fifteen months.”

Published by frontporchmusings694846020

I am a good ole country boy residing in North Mississippi. I love to read, fish, hunt, hike and go to garage sales. Flea markets are a passion of mine. I read anything, but some of my favorites are: Dean Koontz, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, T.S. Eliot, Shakespeare, and I possess a fondness for the writings of William Faulkner and Mark Twain. If I am forced to choose, I prefer baseball to football. I enjoy Alabama football (Roll Tide)! My baseball teams include: The Colorado Rockies and Boston Red Sox. I am divorced, the father of two daughters and live by myself with Chunk and Roscoe (my dogs).

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