Berry – painfully – laid his weapons down first and then followed heed with the rucksack, placing it in the nearest dark corner. Now that he could finally sit down, any old bunk bed would do, and he hardly gave any of it second thoughts.
Jesus...
He’d never felt that bad his entire life, not ever, not even after he’d finished boot camp with Trautman.
Despite his exhaustion however, he wanted to wait a bit before laying down for the night.
Everything hurt. Even his wrists ached but he had no idea why.
The tent was dark and he could hear the sound of his friends around him in the stillness. It was then in the darkness when Jorgenson and Rambo, his two friends missing in action seemed to appear right in front of him. They appeared before his eyes, out of nowhere.
He must have been hallucinating. He was so tired that his thoughts were turning into real-life. He was daydreaming and it was real enough to watch like on television. In other words, he was seeing things.
Missing – he thought.
Missing in action, for fuck’s sake.
There he was, bitching about how tired he was, while Rambo and Jorgenson were still out there missing. They might have been hiding out somewhere in the dark, obscure jungle or maybe worse, running for their lives. What’s more, by this time, they were doing it with no food, no water and probably no ammo either.
They’re screwed.
They’re absolutely screwed.
Berry however, knew that in spite of everything, Rambo and Jorgenson hadn’t given up.
They’d never surrender, neither in mind nor in body. He was sure they’d keep fighting to the bitter end.
Let’s plan our next move, Sir.
They’d fight to the last drop of sweat.
Let’s plan our next move.
They’d fight to the last drop of blood.
Berry closed his eyes in a prayer-like manner, when he realized it wasn’t done.
It’s not over – he thought to himself.
No, it’s not over yet.
...Assuming they were still alive that is.
With that realization, Berry’s thoughts were abruptly brought back to the now. The truth of the matter was, he’d probably never find out what had really happened to them. He could spend the rest of his life not knowing, as had been the case for thousands of other missing in action soldiers, from the Second World War, the Korean War and now in Vietnam.
Missing in action – he thought dreadfully.
So many others had ensued and this time it was going to be twoof ours.
A feeling of anguish came over him as the details from the mission and its final stages crossed through his mind again. He had concluded that with their given circumstances, at the time, there weren’t any alternative actions or decisions to consider. Ortega hadn’t made any mistakes and the mission, well, Ortega had accomplished his mission by bringing back as many hostages as he could. Furthermore, the number of casualties hadn’t been kept at two, and that was something to be pleased about as well. Despite the mission’s miraculous outcome and success on all fronts, Rambo and Jorgenson had been sacrificed for the higher end and nothing more than that.
After all, isn’t that what war is really about? Dying for a greater cause?
So, if you actually think it could never happen to you or to any of your friends because you’re all “better” than everybody else is, well then…
You’re just fucking idiot.
They’d put up a good fight, a fucking good one, actually. Maybe even too good.
They’d fought exceptionally well considering they’re only human.
They’d fought like machines.
Christ, we haven’t been human for a long time – Berry thought.
Joining the Special Forces had changed everything.
I can't even eat a fucking hamburger in peace anymore, for fuck’s sake.
Feeling guilty when I do, worried I’ll get used to NOT eating absolute shit after that.
Christ.
Berry reached for one of the buttons on his shirt but was quickly distracted by his thoughts.
How the fuck am I supposed to live with Lucy after everything I’ve been through?
Death didn’t really bother Berry much any more the same way killing didn’t upset him much either. He was rather indifferent to it, which was not unlike the way the rest of the Baker Team felt about it as well. They didn’t really feel it any more.
Lucy – thought Berry.
My love... When all of this is over, I'll go back to being normal again.
I swear I will.
Yes...
He’d do it for her, so they could live together and maybe one day, even have kids.
Kids...
Then and there however, so soon after completing a mission deemed impossible, nothing could seem further from the truth.
I swear Lucy: when all of this is over, and we start a new life together, the only mission I’ll be worried about is “getting back” to normal.
With that thought in mind, Berry started to undress again.
After spending all that time in the jungle, his clothes stank more than a backed-up sewage system in a third world country would.
He was in pain as he took off his gear, and then in even more pain as he followed suit with his equipment belt, until all he had on was a uniform, pants and boots.
Not having any gear on was like being weightless. He could hardly even keep his balance.
Despite the sense of liberation, the thought of Jorgenson and Rambo still hurt.
It felt the way a cut feels when it’s fresh and won’t stop burning.
It would take some time to forget.
He gave his head a shake trying to get that idea right out of his head. There was no fucking way he was going to forget them.
Rambo was two years younger than he was so for Berry, he was the “kid” on the team.
Rambo meant a lot to Berry and he’d always be a kid to him too.
Unlike the others, Jorgenson already had a little one to look after.
He'd a little girl made of his very own flesh and blood. She was probably destined to grow up without her father thanks to that fucking war.
No, they couldn't be dead.
They just couldn’t.
Not yet anyway.
Not just yet.
Berry looked around in the dark towards the other bunks.
Everyone on the Baker team was both physically and spiritually exhausted, and if he cared about his team as much as he said he did, then he’d need to get over the losses. He had to move on.
He needed to get over that sense of confusion he’s been feeling since the adrenaline had died down and he’d started to relax.
They had to put it all behind them, even the loss of Rambo and Jorgenson, if necessary.
In no time at all, the team would have to move on and make as though they’d never existed, and that time was coming soon.
Yeah right, sure they would.
Trautman certainly wasn’t going to give them a month off because they’d finished the mission Not only was that unlikely, it was highly impossible.
That’s why the sooner Berry moved on the better it would be for him and everybody else too.
Unless Ortega was about to die too, of course.
Now, that would have been serious blow for the team, an insurmountable one in fact.
If that ever actually happened, they’d probably ask Trautman not to call them 'Baker Team' anymore. That wasn’t something he could get his head around though. Not there and then at least.
That meant Danforth would become team leader, they’d get three replacements and within weeks they’d be up and running again. No way. He couldn’t handle something like that.
Jesus – thought Berry.
I don't even want to think about it.
It was a weakness of his. Actually, it was more than that, a real shortcoming. Not being able to accept certain scenarios or a situation like that in particular, especially when he knew, deep down at least remotely, there was a chance. That was a character flaw of his and as such, it was his onus to get over it and fast, maybe even tonight or better yet, right now.
For Christ’s sake – he thought again.
Right, so if I have no choice but to accept that Carl and Johnny are gone, then it’s got to be now.
Berry tried to get up off his bunk, but he fell right back down on it. Without any adrenaline to keep him on his feet, he was clumsier, had less energy and was unquestionably in a lot more pain.
His sense of balance felt off.
He couldn't even stand up.
I could a minute ago though.
He found himself glancing over at the 1911 suddenly just sitting on his rucksack, which he’d absent-mindedly left earlier.
The pistol was so full of mud that even just firing a single shot may have been dangerous.
It was the first time he’d noticed its state, only now that everything was over with.
Berry made note of his mistake and got back to taking off the rest of his equipment. When he finally got to his jungle boots, it hurt even more than he’d imagine it would.
Berry cursed under his voice so as to not disturb anyone, especially Danforth, who had gone to bed without bothering to shower and was already snoring.
Berry was in bad shape.
His legs, back and one ankle in particular were aching. That twisted ankle had almost cost him his life. Oh yeah, that’s right. Had Berry became a burden on his team, they’d have left him behind to save the hostages. Even Rambo had run the same risk when he got hurt in the foot.
Jesus Christ – he thought.
When the only thing he had on was his underwear, he got back up and had the same problems as before doing so.
He obviously wasn’t in good enough shape. Not good enough to do the kind of mission he had just come back from, that is.
Which was why, from then on, he was going to train a lot harder than he had till now.
They all needed to train harder than they used to.
What the fuck are you talking about Berry? - he asked himself rhetorically.
You’re the Special Forces unit with the most fucking training anywhere in the world.
Even so, - he thought to himself
Perhaps the mission had just been impossible, and that’s why they lost Raven and Grizzly.
Maybe, rescuing those fucking hostages was the stupidest thing they’d ever done and the real reason their team members were dead.
Was that it?
Did war put us to the kind of test that no one could realistically overcome?
Of course it did. War was many things, but it certainly wasn’t a fucking game.
Berry shook his head
He felt weak all of a sudden, almost sick.
He unloaded his weapons, removed the bullets from their chambers and put everything in order more or less as his hands shook in the process. Afterwards, he got up again, still staggering, and made his way towards the showers, where he hoped to wash away some of his suffering.