The next day was our last day at the medical camp. Then we were to parachute in just outside of Tobruk. I give the squad our briefing in full. I leave out the stuff they do not need to know. I doubt it would have gone over well. As it is, they aren't enthusiastic about this suicide mission. Getting in will be a hell of a lot easier than getting out though. The boys are scared. I know it from their faces. I tell them they are right to be scared. He who goes into battle unafraid is a fool. He who goes into battle afraid knows his limitations. I'd prefer they know their limitations. They won't do anything stupid that way. We might just make it.
Petersen's jittery. “Here, take this.” – I give him some rum. He coughs a lot as he tosses it down. He has a guilty look on his face. It looks like he's finally started shaving. Brown eyes, black hair. Skinny. His cheeks are how I know he's guilty. His bony face keeps on moving.
“Sir, about those men... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shot them. I... I didn't know what was happening. It was...”
“Don't worry about it. But don't let it happen again. I give the orders. We can't have a fuckup like that on this mission. If any one of us fucks up, it might mean all our lives. On the bright side, if we pull this off, medals for all of us.”
His face perks up a little, but he still looks a bit guilty. Poor lad has it rough. Gunning down surrendered soldiers isn't something I'd like to be responsible for.
Pyre is flipping a coin as I'm walking in. I ask him how he is.
“Just dandy. I've been counting. I've lost 75 of the past 90 flips.”
“You make your own luck. Nothing to worry about.” I say, consolingly.
“Sir, with all due respect, if I've been making my luck, I've done a fantastically shitty job of it. I go to war, it's in the wrong place. I go out of a building, my commander gets killed. We retreat from a raid, we get hit.”
“Listen. Cut the pessimist bullshit. That isn't the attitude that wins. And We're winning this one. No matter what. We might be the luckless five. But by the power of our hands, we will cheat luck. There will be no fuck ups. For we won't allow it. We fail, we die. We fail, our side falls. So we will not fail. I'm not in a dying mood. There is only one way this will end, with us laughing our asses off at a certain aircraft carrier in flames. That's all it will be, and that's all we're allowed to do, Fortuna be damned.”
“Sir yes sir. Fuck luck. No Fortunes.”
“Sir yes sir. Fuck luck. No Fortunes.”
“Pyre... I know things are bad. But if we don't do this, they'll be worse. It's all we can do. Try. It is better to try and fail than to do nothing and let them win. At least this way, we learn from our mistakes, and prove we have learned from past ones. So get ready to learn. And get ready to set Jerry on fire.”
“My magic's been itching for some payback... that'll be good enough for me.” With that he took his coin and melted it with his hands. It looked like water drops on a hot pan before he had it land on the floor.
Navittas is carving a piece of wood. I sit down next to him.
“Whittling, sir. Eases my stresses. There certainly are a lot of them.”
“What are you making, then?”
“I intend to make a pipe. It gives a certain... air of class. And a certain amount of satisfaction – it's good to know that you've created something. Especially since we are soldiers. I do not enjoy the fact that we destroy far more than we create. I suppose that's why I'm an engineer then.”
“I'm certain you'll create a great many things. A real Pontifex Maximus.”
“Bridges are actually my specialty. I feel like they're important. When I see them realized, well, that is as good satisfaction as one can ever expect.”
“Right. Well, be sure to get back home then. I know you'd do me proud.”
“Jerry won't have me, sir. My hand's feeling much better now.”
“Good man.”
I slip him a token of command's esteem, and head off.
Jennings is sharpening his knife when I start talking to him. He's smoking like a chimney. He turns to me, then goes back to his knife sharpening. It's making a grinding, rusting racket. Hasn't oiled the block.
“I know you're nervous. I know you got the worst out of us all in that attack. I know your face hasn't fully healed. I just want to know. Do you want out of this mission?” I say. His face is looking better, now just a rather large stitched-scar across it. Fine for combat. But otherwise...
He chipped the knife on the block and started speaking to me.
“Arnold, I wouldn't have anything to go back to if I did. My family is dead. I just received this in the mail.” he points to a paper. “House got bombed. Wife and son were both in it.”
An awkward silence crept in.
“Don't say you're sorry.” he says.
“Okay. I won't say I'm sorry – But I will say this: you're the best man out of this team we've got. You're the best marksman I've ever seen. You nailed three of those Germans in two seconds on that mission. You're the man we need. You're the man for this job just as much as the rest of us are. There is no man on this mission I trust more. And for that, I've got something for you.”
I pull out this thing from my pocket. It's a sergeant's badge.
“Effective immediately. I'm still in command of this unit. Navittas is promoted to corporal. I've been promoted to colour sergeant. I know that nothing can bring your wife and son back. But perhaps you can take some solace in what we've done and what we're about to do. Perhaps that can ease the pain, even if only somewhat. Just be ready for what comes next. That is all.”
“That isn't much.” He paused for a moment. “But I suppose it's this, or nothing at all. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll be ready. If we get through this, drinks on me.”
“I'm sure we'll need them.”
“Arnold... One last thing.” He paused once more. “Thanks.”
We shook hands. I headed to Laura's tent. One last thing I need to do.
We light some smokes. Laura isn't happy. I can tell that. I tell her only that if it were not us, then who would? – This isn't good enough. It isn't good enough for me, and it isn't good enough for her. But as much as I would love to stay with her for as long as I could, I would be a coward to myself if I didn't. And I might end up in a court martial hearing. Worse, they'd be right. I would be a coward.
I will not be a coward. And I will not die one either.
It's time.
Do or die.
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