A Hard and Heavy Thing (21 page)

Lieutenant Michaels shouted down at him, “Let him go.”

Levi cried back, “No. Don't let him go.”

Once again the LT shouted down. “Hartwig, let him go. I got him. Let him go.”

“Oh,” Levi said. “Oh oh oh,” he said, realizing that it was help. “Take him. Yeah, get him,” he yelled.

He crouched down even farther, trying to force himself into the foot well so there would be room to pull Nick out. He slapped Nick's feet as they passed his face, and he laughed. They were getting him out. He coughed. When Nick's body had cleared the doorway, he took one last glance at Private Weber's blank eyes and open mouth, one last look at Jalaladin's inert form, and he stood up. He gasped at the fresh air and kicked his feet until he found something to step on. He pressed himself out of the doorway. He clawed at the side of the Humvee to pull himself up faster.

White had driven Levi's truck to the south side of the Humvee, blocking it from the field of fire. Another victor had blocked the north side. The other Archer vehicle stayed down the east side of the road with the EOD truck in the direction from which they had come. The LT dragged Nick to the edge of the Humvee and lowered him down to White, who carried him in a bear hug for several feet before laying him on the ground between the vehicles next to the crater and the platoon medic, who was already tending to Gassner.

Levi knelt on all fours on top of the Humvee coughing. He hacked so violently, he felt he would puke.

Lieutenant Michaels knelt beside him. “Are you okay?”

Levi shook his head as he coughed.

“Let me rephrase, Soldier. Are you going to live?”

Levi nodded, crawled to the edge of the Humvee, and lowered himself down to the ground, dropping the last few feet. The area between the Humvees teemed with activity. The platoon medic knelt between the two wounded men. He already had an IV in Gassner's arm and was working on sticking Nick. White bent over Nick's leg. He bandaged and splinted the gruesome broken bone. The LT placed his knees on either side of Nick's head while he jammed a pharyngeal airway in his nose.

Levi walked around the far side of them and down into the crater to retrieve his rifle. When he climbed out of the hole he asked, “Did anyone call a MEDEVAC?”

No one answered.

He yelled again, “Has anyone called a MEDEVAC?”

In the midst of their own shouting at one another, they didn't hear him, or chose not to respond. Levi secured his rifle back to the wolf clip at his shoulder and ran around to his truck on the south side. He opened the TC door. “Ott,” he said. “Anyone call a MEDEVAC?”

Ott looked over, but didn't say anything.

Am I invisible?
Levi thought. “Private Ott,” he yelled. “Did someone call a MEDEVAC?”

Ott nodded. “Yeah. One-Six Delta's on it.”

Levi slammed the door and turned to walk back to the victims, but Lieutenant Michaels cut him off. “Hartwig, grab Ott. That field to the south is the only spot that will work as an LZ here. You'll have the gunners on over watch, but it's just you two dismounted, so do your best. Basically, clear the bodies on the landing zone, do a quick scan, and wave 'em in.” The LT bent over and tucked an MBITR radio into his cargo pocket. “Here,” he said. “Take a second radio so you can talk to both me and the bird.”

Levi nodded, glad to have a task on which to focus. He ran to the other side of the Humvee and opened the door to find Ott still sitting in the driver's seat, spitting tobacco juice into a bottle. The dazed troop stared out the windshield.

“Let's go, Ott. We need to clear the LZ and bring in the MEDEVAC.”

Ott nodded, wiped his pointy white nose, and twisted the cap back onto his spit bottle. He grabbed a package of M&M'S from above the visor and put them in his pocket. He put his hands on the steering wheel and took a deep breath.

“Now, Ott. Let's get a move on,” Levi said.

“Who else is going?”

“Just us. Let's move.”

Ott grabbed his rifle, which was sitting next to him on the transmission tunnel. “The two of us clearing some huge field of elephant grass by ourselves? What sense does that make?”

Levi wanted to hit him to wake him up. He wanted to yell at him that the time for questioning orders was over. He wanted to blast him with obscenities, remind him that he was a soldier, and remind him who was in charge. But if Levi wanted the job done right, he needed Ott onboard. He needed him to understand the situation. Levi grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the Humvee. He pointed around the scene. “In case you haven't noticed, we just lost five guys. Three guys are manning guns. Two guys are helping Doc with the casualties. The EOD guys are taking care of the detainees you beat up, and they'll have to get to that hole to do a post-blast investigation as soon as we can get Gassner, Nick, and the bodies out of there. We have the rest trying to save some lives. Everyone is doing a job. We still need 360-degree security, which means two guys watching north, two guys watching east, and two guys watching west. Which leaves how many guys to clear the LZ to the south?”

Ott looked around and started moving his lips as if he were counting to himself.

“Two, numbnuts. It leaves two. You and me. So that's what sense it makes. So shut your trap and get on line. Fifty meter spacing. We walk out to that tree line. Walk along the line doing a quick scan into the trees and then head back down the center. We check out all bodies. I know for a fact there is at least one here. You see a body, call me over and we clear it together. If it's in the LZ or in the path to the LZ, we drag it out. One guy drags it; the other stands watch. Got it?”

Ott spit on the ground and looked up at Levi like he was crazy.

“Got it?” Levi shouted.

“Roger,” he whispered.

“Good,” Levi said as he looked out into the field. “And a little sense of urgency from now on.” He waited until Ott had walked down the road far enough, and once he was on line, Levi waded out into the thigh-high grass. With the way the setting sun shone on the grass, Levi could see the shadows at the end of the field where a single line of trampled grass coming out of the tree line signified the path of their attackers. The path stopped near the dead center of the field where he had first spotted them from the top of the Humvee. He could see the outline of two bodies in the grass at the center of the field. He knew that he would find another body, a young bearded male with a massive head wound, about fifteen to twenty meters to the left of center. He veered off his due-south path so he could find the body he knew was his. He knew it was there; he knew it was dead and posed no threat; but he felt he had to see it, had to see what his own hands had done.

As he neared the place where the body lay, he glanced over to see if Ott was still on line. Ott had done a good job of staying west and not moving ahead or falling behind, but he was in a trance, looking only at the ground and grasses in front of his own two feet. Levi paused when he reached the spot where he remembered the body falling. He looked around and saw nothing. The undisturbed grass in front of him swayed in the cool breeze as the sun sunk ever lower in the sky.

He turned around and scanned where he had come from. It had to be there. He had shot a man and seen him die. Then the man fell. There was no way he could have crawled off, and the grass wasn't so high that he'd be invisible. Or could he have crawled off? Levi turned in a full circle. He scanned the field.

Levi panicked. He imagined the worst-case scenario. It was possible that his shot hadn't been the direct hit he thought it was. It could have grazed the man's head or simply gone through part of the man's brain without damaging him. Levi had read stories about men walking into emergency rooms with hunting knives through their eyeballs and brains without suffering any ill effects. The man could be alive out there in the grass, lying in wait with his AK-47.

Realizing that it was futile to stand there spinning in circles, he turned south again toward the trees. He picked up his pace to get back on line with Ott. Why was Ott just staring at his feet? He's not clearing much like that, Levi thought as he scanned left and right and forward, letting his eyes run over the sea of green. He looked for varying shades and shadows and shapes.

The instant he allowed himself to question Ott, his foot caught on something that tripped him up. He did not fall, but he stumbled forward, and as he turned his head to look at what had tripped him, he glimpsed—out of the corner of his eye—a man staring up at him. His beating heart stilled and he regained his balance in an instant. He pivoted and he raised his rifle as he turned. When he had squared up on the man in the grass, a million thoughts went through his mind at once: He didn't crawl away after all; he's right here in front of me; wait this isn't the same guy; he's a lot farther into this field than I remember; he's moving; he's moving; that's an AK on the ground; he's going to kill me; his eyes are wide open because he's scared; his eyes are wide open because he's dead; he's moving; if he wasn't dead before, he's dead now.

And yet, before a single one of those thoughts had time to travel through his varying levels of consciousness, adrenaline and fear had driven him to squeeze the trigger of his M4 three times in quick succession, sending three bullets toward the lifeless chest of the man on the ground. The man's chest swallowed the bullets; the body absorbed them without bouncing or jumping with the impact.

When Levi realized what he had done, he cursed under his breath. He looked around, knowing everyone would have heard the shots. He looked over his shoulder at Ott, who had dropped to a knee and raised his own rifle. The LT's voice came over the radio and he reached down to his cargo pocket. He pulled out the radio. When he had it up and out, he realized that the frantic voice was coming over the radio in the pouch on the back of his vest, not the one in his hand. He shoved the radio back into his pocket and tried reaching around to grab the radio on his vest, which he rarely used.

“Archer Three-Six report. Archer Three-Six.”

Levi blindly fumbled with the snap buttons that held it in the pouch.

The voice on the other end of the radio grew more frantic. “Levi, come in. What's going on?”

Levi finally got the radio out. “Archer One-Six, this is Three-Six. All good here. One enemy dead.”

Levi jumped as he heard footsteps behind him. “I'd say he's dead,” said Ott.

“He moved,” said Levi.

“I don't think he's moved for a while,” said Ott, before spitting on the body.

“Shut your face. He moved.” Levi put his radio away. “Watch him for me; I'm going to clear him.” Levi tucked his slung rifle under his armpit so he could kneel.

“Watch him for what? To make sure he doesn't move again?” He snorted as he pulled out a can of dip and snapped his wrist so his index finger smacked against the can.

Levi knew he looked foolish. He knelt down anyway and made a show of patting the dead man down in a search for papers, actionable intelligence, or possible booby traps. After they had dragged him off to the side where no one going to or from the MEDEVAC could trip on him, Levi pointed out the other two bodies. His plan for a semi-orderly clearance of the landing zone had deteriorated. It had turned into Levi huffing and puffing as he dragged bodies from the center of the field to the outside edge while Ott dawdled behind him, more for show than anything else.

When they had finished with the bodies, they walked side by side to the tree line. There was still plenty of ambient light in the open, but Levi wasn't sure they'd be able to see further than a few feet into the forest of palm trees and weeds even if the sun hung high. He unclipped a SureFire flashlight from his vest and shone it into the trees to no avail. Ott said nothing.
Screw it,
Levi thought. He got on the radio and called it clear, but it wouldn't have mattered. The bird needed to land and was nearly there. Levi pushed Ott out to the southwest corner of the field. Levi took the northwest corner and waited.

White ran a few steps into the field. He threw a smoke grenade in a high arch. The spoon flew off and bright purple smoke began pouring out of the spinning grenade before it hit the ground. The purple smoke floated into the air and merged with the deep reds and oranges of the dusky sky.

The LT emerged from behind the wrecked Humvee and began pointing and shouting, offering further direction to those aiding the wounded. Levi forced himself to turn around, to focus on his sector, to do his job. The thought crossed his mind that the battle was over. Those brave enough to stay and fight were dead. Those too scared to fight were long gone. Yet, he would not allow himself to grow complacent. He thought of how quickly so many had been lost. It had all happened in one apocalyptic trumpet blast, in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye. They had not expected it.

He looked at his watch. It had only been twelve minutes since the IED detonated on Nick's truck. Something could happen again at any time.

He forced himself to pay attention, to look for threats, to keep his mind from wandering and imagining. He served as the watchman and protector. He did not allow himself the luxury of looking over his shoulder as they brought his friend to the edge of the road on a litter. Even as the helicopter roared behind him and threatened to blow him over, he kept his eyes on the tree line and on the field. Even as the helicopter carrying his friend lifted away, he vowed not to look inward. From now on, he would keep his eyes out, where they belonged.

It was only after the lieutenant called him back over the radio that he allowed himself to turn around again. By then, the helicopter was gone, the night was still, and there was nothing left of the sun.

After reaching the road, he broke into another coughing fit and collapsed to all fours. When he stopped coughing, he turned and sat down with his back against the tire of a Humvee. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.