Lust of Battle

"RPG!" screamed Doc. It hit the oven in front of the blind house. I felt the heat from the blast punching me in the head and chest. Before I knew it, I was flat on my back. I couldn't breathe and gasped for air. I stared at the moon, seeing my breath and the smoke from the rocket's impact.

I felt a tug on my shoulder, then saw a face over me. It was Doc.

"Let me see," he said. He put his palm on my neck.

I was bleeding. I saw it in his hands.

"Just a scratch Kelly," he said.

Doc put a small bandage and some tape over the wound. "You just got the wind knocked out of you." He helped me to my side. "Get up, get back in the fight, Marine. You're fine."

I grabbed my rifle, pushed to my knees, and crawled to the wall.

"Holy shit, Doc," I said. "That freaking hurt." I shook my head, trying to clear it. I took up my sector and pulled the trigger. The recoil hurt my bicep and made it throb and burn.

"Harriers are inbound—"

I heard the words and knew it was Theo, but I couldn't react.

"Kelly, get the fuck down!" Doc grabbed me and tried to pull me to cover, but I resisted and removed the mono NVG. I wanted to see it with my own eyes.

It was brilliant. Massive flashes of light above the ridge line that swallowed the trees—shot flames, smoke, and ash into the sky. The impact preceded the hiss, whistle, and crackle of the exploding bomb.

"Shit, Doc. you've gotta see this," I said.

I felt the impact tremor from each explosion, three in all. Each one had its own personality, its own signature. One would burn red and yellow as it engulfed the trees and surrounding forest. Another would flash, then send a cloud of rock and ash skyward as it mixed with flames. Still, another, impacted just above the first two, was the biggest explosion. It had all the elements of its predecessors but bellowed with a monstrous roar—it shook me most of all.

I looked over the stone wall, seeing the fires and the embers floating in the air. There was no more movement. The ridgeline burned brightly in the night sky. I looked out over the field, seeing the dead bodies of T-Man scattered about. Some were burning, and others just lay lifeless on the cold ground.

"Let's go, Kelly," said Doc as he held out his hand. I took hold of it and felt woozy as he pulled me from my knees. My head was pounding, and my ears rang from the RPG blast—my arm spasmed in agony.

"Theo wants us at the corral," said Doc. He rushed me by pulling on my arm and shoulder until I stood. "You're fine, Kelly—promise. Let's go."

I started after Doc but had to stop. Lying against the wall was the body of the old man.

"He's gone, Kelly," said Doc. "He's all used up—nothing I could do."

Love the brotherhood, fear God, love the Corps. "Until there's no enemy but peace."

Doc moved quickly across the corral. In his hands, he carried two packs. His first aid kit held bandages, dressings, airways, casualty cards, shears, splints, and cutters. The other held needles, catheters, hemostatic agents—medicines for pain, clamps, and every other instrument he could use to keep us alive. His task was moving, accessing, treating, and evacuating the casualties. However, our wounded were the villagers, including the young boy shot in the throat. How would this hold up under the rules of the laws of war?

Not just our Doc, our Devil Doc.

Aside from the chaos of the wounded, I sat against one of the fence poles.

"You'll be fine, princess," said Doc. He stopped to check on me with little to no compassion at all. "Arm wound, a few stitches. You're concussed, Kelly—you have your purple heart."

"Arm wound?" I asked. I felt my right bicep. "God damn—that's why it burns? I don't remember getting—"

My stomach churned. Suddenly, nausea and sickness overcame me, and I vomited. I leaned to the side, careful to aim it away from myself.

"I got 'em," said Theo. He told Doc to get back inside.

"I swallowed—my cope," I said. Then, between heaving from my mouth and nose, I stammered. "I'm—sorry, Theo."

Theo rubbed the back of my neck. The father in him coming out. He removed the dust cover from the bite valve on my Camelbak and put it in my mouth. I took a large sip, rinsed, then wiped.

"I'm okay," I said. Viking laughed and shook his head. I felt like a child again, apologizing and reassuring everyone.

"Give him a woobie and let him rack out," said Viking. His teasing and Doc's lack of sympathy assured me I was okay. If they had been pleasant, caring, or even concerned, that would be a sign that I was seriously hurt.

"You're good, Kelly," said Theo. "Doc's gonna fix you up soon. You got a nice-sized cut on your neck. Gonna need fourteen stitches, easy." He readjusted the bandage held in place by tape and my neck gaiter.

"Shit, Kelly, you got some—up close and personal," said Viking. "Did you smile-kill that goat humper, or what?"

He tapped the back of my head in gest. The pain in my neck, head, and arm caused me to flinch.

"What the hell, dude!" I said. Viking laughed, his mouth wide open.

Theo grabbed him by the shoulder strap of his plate carrier. "Get on the net—find out what the sit-rep is on our exfil."

He flicked the Copenhagen tin with his hand to pack the tobacco.

"Open your mouth," he said. Then, taking a large pinch, he put it between my cheek and gum. He then helped me by my plate carrier, holding me until I was steady.

"You're good, Marine. Just breathe," he said. Then, he comforted me with a gentle pat on the back and neck. "Just got your bell rang, a bit of shrapnel. Nothing to write home about."

We heard yelling. It sounded angry. My ears were still ringing, but I recognized something else was wrong, what my father would call the fruits of a poisonous tree.

We walked towards the poppy house, where the village elders gathered. The old village men who could not fight stood with the Elders. Others were running to join in. The women and some younger children had left their hiding place.

"Christ, we have a mob on our hands," said Theo. Fists were waving in the air, and villagers screaming, chanting for what could only be vengeance.