VIETNAM 1969
Sarge was now up, and had been so for hours. Dusty gave Sarge some of his beef band-aids to patch him up a bit, but he didn't seem right in the head, it was like something snapped inside his head. He went into the command tent and came out with his M16 and ordered the motley crew to "saddle up" and that they were going on a "rescue assignment." They couldn't question his orders as he was the acting CO on base. Floodwatch, not wanting to start a second conflict remained silent. Shortstop wanted to speak out, but knew that Sarge wouldn't take him seriously because of his race. Dusty never questioned orders, he always assumed that there was a reason that they're given. Frostbite just liked the thrill of the kill.
Dusty and Floodwatch both picked up standard issue M16 rifles, only Floodwatch stuck a bayonet on the end of his "just in case." Dusty brought his tin of beef bandages which he had deemed a good luck charm. Shortstop picked up an M60 light machine gun, a particularly odd (and humorous) choice for a man of his small stature. Frostbite took his trusty scoped Springfield and an M1911 pistol.
They slogged through the jungle for what seemed like hours, and Dusty disarmed his 100th mine, but nobody knew a nickname for him. After a while Floodwatch finally got the courage to speak up. "Uhh... Sarge? Just where are we headed? And who are we rescuing?" "We are headed to coordinates Eight-Six-Seven-Five-Three-Oscar-Niner Private! We're goin' to rescue Lieutenant Haystack." "Wait, you mean Lieutenant Bill "Haystack" Williams? He's been dead for five months!" Dusty's heart sank. "Those coordinates that u just rambled about? Those aren't even real! Sarge we need to get you back to base! You're not okay in the head!"
Sarge's eyes were unnaturally wide, he was twitching, eyes darting between the other men. "I don't know what you're talking about! Stay back! GET AWAY FROM ME!!" Floodwatch reached out for Sarge's arm and Sarge jumped back and grabbed his M16. "Woah Sarge you don't want to do that, give me the rifle..." "NO! GET AWAY" Sarge fired a round into Floodwatch's gut and screamed a terrible scream. Floodwatch fell like a stone hands clamped down on his wound. Shortstop yelled "NOOO!!" and hip-fired his M60 into Sarge. There was a single tear on Shortstop's face.
Dusty dropped to Floodwatch's side. He pulled out his beef bandages and put some in the wound. "Don't waste those on me man, I'm done for." "Don't say that Floodwatch you hear me?" "No... no... I won't make it back to base..." he gave a shuddering chuckle "Heh, Sweepy..." "Did you just give me a nickname? Floodwatch? ANSWER ME!" But Floodwatch was gone. Dusty took his dog tags and put them in his band-aid tin. The remaining members began to march back to base.
After a long, silent march, they were almost back at base. Then suddenly there was a plinking of metal and Dusty was knocked to the ground. It was as if he'd been punched in the chest. they then heard the crack of a gun a second later. "SNIPER!" Yelled Frostbite. Shortstop fired his gun into the brush, but then suddenly he collapsed as if he were a rag doll. Another crack of the gun a second after he collapsed. Frostbite dropped onto the ground and looked into the brush. He fired once, but recoiled less then a second later, he'd been shot in the same instant that he fired.
"Sweepy... Sweepy... I got him... come closer..." Dusty crawled closer to Frostbite, there was blood seeping through his uniform by his right lung. He coughed a wet hacking cough and began to tell the story that he swore that he'd only tell on his death bed. "My mother. She was the only one who brought any warmth in my life. She was a Scottish immigrant, always carried a pound with her. One day I came home to an ambulance, they were wheeling my mother out on a stretcher. She was deathly ill. The last thing she said to me was 'Get indoors honey, you wouldn't want to catch frostbite...' I'd tell you my name, but I'm afraid... I've.... forgotten....." Frostbite couldn't draw breath anymore. With his last bit of strength and willpower, pulled his Mother's Scottish pound out of his pocket and held it out. He gave Dusty a steely gaze that said "Take it, remember me, remember my story." Frostbite died right there, eyes still gazing into Dusty's. Dusty shut Frostbite's eyes and put the pound and Frostbite's dog tags in his tin. He walked over to where Shortstop fell and took his tags as well. Dusty walked back to base and radioed in for assistance....
PRESENT DAY
"So young'ns thats the story of m'tin and m'nickname. I still have the dog tags, the pound, and the bullet m'lucky tin caught and saved my life from." Ritchie and Jimmy were dumbstruck. "Wow Mr. Sweepy! You must've gotten every medal there is!" "Oh no, kiddies. I didn't get a single medal, and you know what? I'm fine with that. All of those brave men I served with deserved the medals, not me. The only shame was that they didn't live but I did, al because of a silly novelty band-aid tin. I've sworn to live a life good enough for all of them."
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