Trent Reedy - Divided We Fall

I grabbed the radio and keyed the mike. “Three one bravo, this is three one alpha. Cease fire! Cease fire! I’m going down there! Three one alpha, out.”

“Negative, three, one, alpha.” It was PFC Nelson on the radio. “Do not go down in that valley. Maintain position, over.”

Nelson could stuff it. No way was I going to sit up here and watch that soldier bleed out. I dropped the radio, slung my M4’s strap over my right shoulder, grabbed our medkit and an extra Freedom Lake sweatshirt, and ran out of my bunker to the path below, scrambling down the steep embankment. I waved the white sweatshirt above my head. “Cease fire! Cease fire! I have a medkit,” I yelled as loud as I could, hoping they could hear me all the way back in those trees. With my weapon slung and no cover, these guys could pick me off easy.

A couple shots went off, and shards of rock hit me as the bullets struck nearby. I dropped to the rock face, skidding and tumbling the rest of the way down. I pulled out my M4 and pointed it at the trees, stupidly standing ready for a fight I could not win.

When no shots came, I ran to the wounded soldier. Another soldier ran from the Washington trees, waving a white rag over his head. “Medic! Medic! Don’t shoot! I’m a medic.”

When I reached the wounded man, acid burned in my throat as I looked at him. A pink-white bone flashed through the torn flesh of his leg, and deep-red blood soaked the dry grass around him. I could see he was slipping out of consciousness. Bleeding out.

“Come on, buddy, stay with me,” I said, ripping open my medkit and pulling out a field dressing. “You’re good. Breathe and stay with me.” We’d been over combat field medicine in basic training a hundred times. Now I had to do it for real.

When the other soldier skidded to a halt next to me, I looked up only long enough to catch sight of his rank. If this specialist wanted to shoot me or capture me, I was in trouble, but right now all I cared about was saving this guy if I could. “I’ll try to stop the bleeding,” I said.

“I’m going to run an IV.”

I ripped off the paper and spread out the gauze pad. “Sterile side to the wound,” I mumbled.

“Can you handle that?” said the medic.

“Yeah, I got it, damn it. Get the IV in him.”

The wounded soldier coughed and rolled his head around a little, floating on the edge of consciousness.

“Hey, buddy, stay with us,” I said. I wrapped the green cloth bands around the back of the leg and brought them up to cross over the center on top of the white bandage pad. Then I looped both straps again and tied the ends. “We need you to stay awake. We’re going to get you fixed up and back to a hospital. No problem.” If the bleeding didn’t stop, I’d have to apply a tourniquet above the wound to stop the blood flow. If I did that, this guy might live, but he’d lose his lower leg.

The bright crimson blood soaked into the bandage, dulling to a sort of brown, but that was to be expected, right? Doing this stuff in training was a lot different from doing it in real life. “Here.” I stood up and held out my bloody hands to the specialist. “Let me hold the IV bag. Can you check this bandage? I can’t tell if it’s stopping the bleeding enough.”

The medic handed me the bag before inspecting my bandage. “You did a pretty good job.” He straightened my ties a little. “I think this is going to work. I think he’s going to make it.”

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. He’d live. I wouldn’t have his death on my conscience. I smiled. I knew I was right. Soldiers are soldiers, and America was still united enough for me and this medic to save this guy’s life.

“No thanks to you.”

“What?”

I opened my eyes to see the medic with his nine mil drawn.

“Oh shit,” I said. “You gotta be kidding me.”

He kept his weapon aimed at me and wiped his nose with his free hand. “You’re under arrest for shooting my squad leader. And I’m sure my chain of command will be happy to hear we finally have PFC Wright in custody.”

“I wasn’t even aiming at him, you dumb son of a bitch! I was just trying to scare you guys, make you go back to your side. If you’d stayed over there, he’d be fine.”

The specialist shook his sidearm. “Slowly lower your weapon to the ground.”

I bit my lip and tried to focus, tried to keep my legs from shaking. I was glad that the soldier I’d shot was okay, but I still felt like a moron from one of those zombie apocalypse movies who wanders off alone and foolishly trusts some desperate psychopath in the woods. Stupid mistakes like that always end up getting people hurt.

“I’m not joking!” the specialist shouted. “Put your weapon on the ground or I’ll shoot you right here.”

“Hey, Wright! You okay down there?” Luchen called down.

The medic risked a look up. I grabbed my rifle by the end of the barrel and swung it like a baseball bat into his wrist. His nine mil went flying. I gripped the rifle barrel with both hands and jabbed it at the medic hard, crunching the stock into his nose. Blood exploded from his face and he fell backward. “Luchen, cover me!” I shouted as I ran, picking up the medic’s sidearm and the first soldier’s M4 before scrambling up the steep rocky path to my bunker.

Safely behind the cover of our fighting position, I sat in the dirt and rested my head back against the rock wall. While I was in the valley, my whole team had crammed into the tiny space, along with Staff Sergeant Donshel, First Sergeant Herbokowitz, and Captain Leonard. We watched the line until the bleeding medic carried his wounded comrade back into Washington.

“What happened?” Captain Leonard asked, and I told him the whole story.

After I finished, the first sergeant frowned. “Next time, don’t try to be a hero. Someone says not to go down there, then you damn sure better stay up here. Got it?”

“Yes, First Sergeant,” I said.

“You stopped an incursion, saved that soldier’s life, and captured two good weapons.” Captain Leonard smiled at me. “Good work, Wright.” He patted me on the helmet as he walked out of the bunker with Herbokowitz.

“Why don’t you take some downtime, Wright? Come with me. We’ll make sure you get some chow and plenty of water.” Donshel held out his hand to help me up. I took it and followed him away from our fighting position down toward the TOC tent near the wire obstacle.

“The commander is talking about organizing a Quick Reaction Force that would always be on standby to back up any fighting position if something like this happens again. I’m sorry you were on your own like that, Wright. I’ll make sure someone has your back from now on, I promise.”

I didn’t answer. I was still so hopped up on adrenaline that I barely trusted myself to speak.

Donshel put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, you need anything?”

I licked my lips. “Like to use my comm,” I said. “Make a call.”

“Yeah, sure. There’s a charging station inside the TOC if the power’s low.”

“Thanks, Sergeant,” I said.

Donshel nodded. “But I meant what I said. Chow first, and drink at least one CamelBak of water. Then you can make that call.”

About twenty minutes later, I climbed up into the Beast to call Mom in private. When the audio connected, though, it wasn’t Mom’s voice on the line.

“Danny?” said a woman.

Where the hell was Mom? Had the Feds arrested her for some reason? “Who is this?” I said. “Where is Kelly Wright?”

“Whoa, relax. Is this Danny?”

Even if this was a trick, there was nothing the Fed could gain if I confirmed what they already knew. “Yeah, this is PFC Wright.”