Jumping Back
This is an image I haven't loaded to Flickr. I didn't think it was that good, though I found it evocative...

It felt like takeoff. The plane rattled, lights passed by the windows, and the shaking. The colors were different. Whiffs of cordite wafting through the cabin betrayed the comfortable illusion.

Zack looked at the men around him, his bilious dislike for Sergeant Green rising again. The guy couldn’t get out of his basic training mindset. Everyone remembers their drill instructor saying, “I want every one of you pussies to look at the pussies standing on your right and on your left. One you three don’t have what it takes to get out of here.” The sergeant did not need to tell them the same tired thing at the brief. Every one of them had seen action, probably more than Green, and none of them thought a low altitude drop behind enemy lines was a walk in the park. Zack pushed down the thought, “If I get to choose the one of us who won’t return…”

The buffeting stopped. Messerschmitts were probably on the way to offer their greetings. The intercom confirmed, “Good news and bad news boys. Got a Messerschmitt. Good news, there’s just the one bastard.” A sharp pop interrupted, “Shit!”

Next to him Brownie was rolling forward in the start of a sloppy slow motion somersault. Behind Brownie there was a jagged hole the size of a fist in the fuselage. Catching his falling friend Zack found himself covered in blood. It looked like a .50 caliber round hit the D ring, tearing him up on entrance more than most exit wounds.

Zack laid his dead comrade on the deck, looked up to tell Green he was gone. Green was bug-eyed, obviously in shock. “Sarge! Damn you! Snap out of it!”

“Like I said not all of us are going to make it out. I thought we’d make it out of the fucking bird!” The Sergeant mumbled, somehow making himself heard over the din.

Sergeant Green’s left side was sagging, and appeared shiny. It looked like the round had passed through his shoulder before getting Brownie. “Smith!” Zack hollered through the intercom, “dress the sarge. Lieutenant Purvis,” he continued, “can you finish dressing the wound when we’re on target?”

“Shit. Yeah! One my way. We’re there now, the light’s already on. Go! Go! GO!”

Half the guys had already jumped. Zack hooked up and grabbed Smith, “The lieutenant will finish up. You gotta go now!”

“You gotta go now! Hurry up!” another voice was yelling. “Goddamn it Zack wake up, you got the return leg!”

“Okay, okay!” he replied confused, then remembering, “Leave me alone Hitz.” Zack forced his eyes open against the wind blasting through the fuselage. His tormentor and friend, Lt. Horowitz the navigator was closing the door bringing calm.

“You were sleeping like the dead, and Ron’s dead beat. I’ll feel better as soon as you’re flying this tank. Where in Hell were you?”

“Reminiscing.” Zack moved to the cockpit and tapped Ron on the shoulder. “I’ll take over.”

“I got it,” stated the co-pilot.

“You got it.” Ron responded for the positive handover.

“Zack, another quiet one, a few tracers and Hal over here says he saw some flak but I think he’s just trying to make a good story.”

- posted by Scott @ 2:25 PM 0 comments