the Last Run (1987) (24 page)

Rose leaned over. "Getcha any women?"

Wade rolled his eyes up. "You must be rested and eatin' good. You're back to your ol' ways."

"Man, a dude gotta unload or his eyeballs turn white."

Russian pushed Rose back with his arm. "You talk terrible things. I try to eat and you say such words."

"Man, I'm just tellin' it the way it is. Why, if I'd been there, I'd . . . "

Russian turned with a scowl. Rose picked up his fork and stabbed the spaghetti savagely. "Russian, you a bummer, man. Why they take foreigners in our Army beats the shit outta me."

Wade waved his fork for attention. "You guys keep your eyes out for two good replacements for the team. The ol' man is giving us first choice. We need a 60 gunner and a radio man."

'I got just the man we need for the 60,'' said Thumper quickly. "It's that redheaded 173rd replacement called Woodpecker. He's the best I've seen on the range. He's skinny, but he's a humper."

"The guy that ran against the Indian?" asked Wade.

That's him. He'd be my first choice."

"Okay, I'll watch him this week. Anybody see a good RTO?"

Rose spoke with his mouth full. "Man, whoever it is, just make sure he ain't foreign, will ya?"

16 September

The days passed quickly for Wade. He taught map reading and land navigation to men who had just rotated from Thumper's station on artillery and gunship supporting fire adjustment. They seemed attentive and interested, but Wade could tell that a problem was beginning to develop. Now that the men were getting plenty of food and sleep, they were becoming difficult to control. Two nights before, the ragbags had raided the 173rd maggots' barracks and sprayed shaving cream in all the beds. The maggots reciprocated the following night by sneaking in at midnight and dousing the sleeping ragbags with canteen water. A fight had broken out that caused four men to lose teeth and several others to require stitches. The two groups of men had become so competitive that Childs had to keep them constandy separated or they'd yell and jeer at each other, disrupting the classes. Childs had admitted to the cadre that he was worried he'd carried the competition too far.

Wade marched his last class of the day back to the barracks and gave them five minutes to get ready for the evening run. When he walked to the PT formation a few minutes later, he couldn't believe his ears. Childs was addressing the company. "Shitbirds, I'm cancelling the last half-mile race that was scheduled for tonight. I. . . "

The company of ragbags and maggots booed and yelled out in protest. Childs, fuming, held up his hand for silence, then called Lieutenant Gibson and Lieutenant Avant to the platform. "We're causin' dissension instead of team building," he whispered to them. "We should cancel the son of a bitch."

Gibson shook his head. "It's important to them. They've been waiting for this last race and they're ready. You gotta let 'em do it."

Avant agreed. "Sergeant Childs, you have to let the race stand. My men are higher than kites. They need the race to blow off steam. Hell, if you don't let 'em run, we're gonna have more trouble."

Childs understood. He stood up to face the company. "Shitbirds, I've reconsidered. The race will go on, but only one repre- sentive from the ragbags and maggots will run. And this will be the last run!"

The company hooted and hollered their approval as Childs stepped off the platform shaking his head. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

The maggots chose Woodpecker, for he had been training secretly every night. The ragbags chose their proven winner, Black Eagle.

Thumper walked the two men down the road to the starting point, gave them a few minutes to stretch and warm up, then stood at the starting line. "I'm going to be shooting my .45 so the others will know it's started. Good luck to you both. On your marks ... get set.. . " Boom!

Black Eagle used the same strategy as before: He began at a moderate pace to feel out his opponent, but to his surprise, the redhead fell in behind him.

At the halfway point, Black Eagle picked up the pace and pulled farther ahead, but Woodpecker kept up his steady churning until he reached the bottom of the hill before beginning his practiced sprint.

Childs, standing at the finish line, watched Woodpecker pass the Indian halfway up the hill, two hundred yards before the end of the race. As if he was playing to the shouts and screams of the company that lined the road, the skinny redhead pumped his long legs like pistons and took a commanding lead. Childs thought it was over when the redhead's face suddenly contorted in pain and he pitched forward. He rolled on the ground in agony-with a cramped calf muscle, judging by the way he grabbed his leg. The screaming ragbags yelled louder as the Indian jumped over the fallen runner without losing stride and raced for the finish line. Childs stepped back to let the winner pass but the Indian slowed to a jog and looked over his shoulder at his writhing competitor. The ragbags were screaming for their man to continue, but he turned around abrupdy and jogged back to the maggot.

Childs felt a tingling sensation run up his spine as the Indian pulled the taller soldier to his feet and supported him with an arm around his waist. The Indian strained with the weight, but began jogging to the line again. The crowd of shitbirds became silent as they watched the two men struggle for their goal. The redhead moaned in pain but continued to hobble along, his face contorted, but his eyes, like those of the Indian's, set in determination.

Childs backed up as the two men labored together in a final exhausting effort and fell across the line at the same time. The comany of silent men broke into a roar of jubilation as Childs looked down at the two men and fought back the urge to lift them up and hug them both. In seconds, the runners were pounced on by hollering, laughing ragbags and maggots, all of whom wanted to shake their hands and slap their backs. Childs squared his shoulders back and walked through the gathering crowd as the two runners were lifted onto the shoulders of yelling shitbirds.

Major Shane walked up behind Childs and tapped his shoulder. "What were you saying about two separate armies?"

Childs frowned and started toward his platform, but halted after a step. There wasn't a thing he could say to the company. The actions of those two men had said it all. He grunted to himself and looked over his shoulder at the major. "Looks like we got us some Rangers after all, sir."

The following morning First Seigeant Demand announced in the mess hall that a chaplain was visiting and he wanted every man to attend a service to be held outside after chow.

Wade finished eating breakfast with the team and got to his feet. "Come on, guys, let's hear the sermon and get ready for the helicopter class."

Thumper and Russian stood, but Rose remained seated. Wade motioned them on and sat down. "What's the matter, Rose, ya not feelin' good?"

Rose didn't look at his seigeant as he snapped, "I ain't gonna hear no holy shit! There ain't no law says I gotta go and I ain't goin', man."

Wade had never seen Rose so adamant and tried to ease the tension. "No sweat, Rose. You don't wanna go that's fine, but what's the problem? You know I'll have to explain to Top why you're not there."

Rose stared at his sergeant for a second as if about to speak, but suddenly looked away. "No, man, it ain't for talkin' about. Man, I ain't goin', that's all. If Top wanna hassle me, let him."

Wade got up and put his hand on his. friend's shoulder. "He won't hassle you. I'll make sure of it. You'd better take the back door and wait in the barracks. We'll be up later."

Rose looked up at his sergeant.4 'Thanks, Matt, for not pushin', man. It's . . . it's a personal thing." Wade nodded in silence and headed for the door. Rose closed his eyes for a moment and saw the smiling face of the Reverend Jeremiah Washington Flowers, his father. Rose's fists clenched in anger just thinking of the man who promised him and the family everything and left them in squalor and, much worse, shame. His father was the Lower East Side's pastor and preached in an old Safeway store every Sunday. He preached hope to those who were beyond it and dreams to the dreamers. As a fourteen-year-old boy he'd been one of those who believed his father, until a young pregnant girl said his dad was her baby's father. He'd even believed his dad when he said it wasn't true, but his mama cried a long time and never smiled again. A month later the reverend left on a Saturday and never came back. They said the reverend left with the congregation's donations for the new church, but the boy didn't know for sure, because he never went back. A teenage black boy without a dad wasn't uncommon in Detroit's Lower East Side, but being "The Reverend Flowers's boy" was. The welfare his mama took to feed her family he could endure, the snickers and whispers he couldn't.

Years later the whispers ended with the riots, and his work for the people gave him respect. Then trouble ended and the people wanted to believe in dreams again. He joined the Army to pay the bills and get away from the dreamers. He played the Army's game and found that the jungle was no different than the streets. Dreamers died believing they wouldn't and he survived because he believed he could.

He found respect among those who believed in one another and hope in a system that rewarded survivors. He wasn't Jeremiah Flowers's boy anymore. He was "the Rose," a man who believed only in his friends and himself.

Chapter 11

20 September

With two days left in Childs's training program, Wade still hadn't decided on an RTO. The radiomen had to be smart and able to memorize coundess call signs and frequencies, plus speak the peculiar radio language fluendy. Wade talked to Sergeant Selando, who'd been teaching the radio procedures class.

"Ya seen anybody who seems to have the knack?"

"Yeah, there's a couple, but you want the real star, he's sittin' right behind you." Wade turned around. There were five men sitting eating C rations.

"That kid has got a memory like an elephant. I guess it's from his school-teaching.''

One of the men looked up, a big Texan Wade remembered from the training classes. That must be him, Wade thought. "Thanks, Selando, he looks big enough to hump."

Selando saw who Wade was looking at and shook his head. "Not him." He pointed to the small man leaning against a tree. "Him."

Wade looked at Selando in disbelief. "You gotta be kiddin'!"

Selando laughed. "Look, I wouldn't shit you. He sure doesn't look like much, but the Indian memorizes the stuff like it was scripture. You asked who the best was and that's him. If you don't take him, I'm going to."

Wade shook his head, mumbling. "Well, he ain't foreign, that's for sure."

That evening at chow, Wade broke the news to the team. "So I decided on Woodpecker for the 60 gunner and. . . Preacher for the RTO."

Rose tossed down his fork. "Preacher! That ugly litde dude! No, Matt, he's a Jesus freak, man!"

Russian nodded in approval. "Yes, he will be good. He listen good in my class."

"Whatcha talkin' about, man? He's as weird as you are. The Indian is a Bible-thumper. Aw, Matt, no, man! He ain't cool!"

Thumper reached over to Rose's plate and took his cake.4 'Matt, I think you picked us some good people. Woodpecker is experienced and I hear Preacher is smart. The Lord knowth how we needth a goodth influence."

Rose snatched the cake away just as Thumper raised it to his mouth.

You's a smart alec big dude! The Preacher is gonna drive us crazy with his holy shit. He ain't never gonna pull the trigger, man."

Wade scooted back his chair. "Rose, lightning is gonna strike any second now."

Thumper and Russian slid their chairs back, too. Rose stared at their grinning faces, and shook his head disgustedly. You're all dreamers!"

22 September

Sergeant First Class Jerry Childs stepped up on the platform and placed his hands on his hips. Before him stood a company of 110 men all dressed in newly-issued camouflage fatigues and jungle hats. He paced back and forth, then halted. 4'Shitbirds, you are the survivors of two weeks of hell. You have proven to yourselves, the instructors, and me that you have earned the right to wear the black beret. Today the initial training is over. Tomorrow we begin team training.

"Some of you are going to the Commo platoon, and the rest are assigned to teams. You are all going to become an elite unit known and respected by our friends and our enemies. Today you become Rangers! Remember what you've been taught. Your life and the lives of others will depend on it. You're no longer maggots ... or ragbags ... or shitbirds. You are men who will continue the mission, Charlie Mike, till that fat lady sings. I pronounce you all United States Army Rangers\"

The formation erupted in a thunderous roar and tossed their hats skyward.

Childs came to attention. "Award the berets!"

The cadre filed down the rows of men, placing a black beret on each man's head.

Lieutenants Avant and Gibson were given their berets by Major Shane. The major shook both their hands and winked. "You think Childs was bad, wait till tomorrow when I teach you both to fly backseat in a bird dog."

Avant feigned fainting and fell on Gibson's shoulder. "Aw, sir, we were going to drink a litde beer tonight and celebrate."

Shane laughed and began walking to his headquarters. "Top has a little party planned with a movie. You two be there . . . sober!"

Both officers saluted smartly. "Yes, sir!"