Coletta sat down on his bunk once he’d lit a cigarette.
He was too tired to do any unpacking right then and there.
What a crazy fucking mission – he thought to himself.
Rockets flying overhead, the whistle of the bullets, civilians being killed, and Rambo and Jorgenson end up missing in action.
Not to mention the raid itself. The attack had its very own unique, downright frightening charm. It was almost attractive, like a switchback. All in all, it hadn’t ended too badly, except for the civilians of course, God Dammit.
That was an ugly story in itself, but the days they’d spent in the jungle after that, well, that was even uglier.
Coletta wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
He was shaking from exhaustion.
That fucking jungle, for Christ’s sake.
Coletta took a deep breath, took his gear off first and then started on his uniform.
Once he got down to his t-shirt, he took that off too.
His chest had become small and narrow, adolescent-like.
He had neither eaten nor drunk enough on that mission.
Not by a long shot.
Even when he could have, he hadn’t. At times because of the state of tension he was always in while on other occasions, he literally “forgot.” This was especially true near the end when they had problems making it back. In fact, they never did.
Not to mention the route they’d eventually agreed on taking, which included crossing that damn river for fuck’s sake.
That damn plan had cost them Rambo, Jorgenson and Lowell, and they were only sure with certainty that is, that 1 out of 3 of them was actually dead.
Maybe, if we’d just waited a few more days, there in that fucking jungle, Rambo and Jorgenson would be here with us now, safe and sound.
We probably should’ve crossed somewhere else.
If we’d come up with a different plan altogether, it might have made the difference.
It’s hard to tell – answered a voice inside his head.
You shouldn't be giving up hope yet anyways.
That's true, I shouldn't
Maybe they’re still alive.
Johnny...
They could both still be alive.
Coletta looked over at the M14 he’d left leaning up against the tent wall.
He cared about both of them of course, and they were all good friends. Yet for some reason, when it came to Rambo it was another story. More so now, considering how weird Jorgenson had become after he miraculously survived operation Black Spot.
Coletta certainly cared about him too but Jorgenson had changed. He just wasn't the kind of person you enjoyed having around anymore.
He had become weird, lonely and distant.
He had bonded with Rambo and in effect, everybody loved Rambo.
Even Trautman seemed to have a preference for him.
The two of them used to talk quite a bit, and it looked as though Rambo was his protégé or something. It could have been because Rambo always considered and took care of others first. Nevertheless, Ortega should have had that kind of relationship with the Colonel considering he was team leader.
In any case, who didn’t love somebody who always put others first?
Coletta closed his stinging eyes and thought about how much he really cared about them, both.
It's just war – he thought.
People die at war.
Either that or they’re simply never found.
He knew it and had known it from the start.
So, why did he feel that bad about it anyway?
Because he should have helped them, that’s why.
Never again – he thought to himself.
From now on, I will never leave anyone behind. Never again.
Not even for the sake of the objective.
Even if takes screwing the mission. If that’s the price then that’s what it’ll take.
He was lying to himself though and he fucking knew it.
He knew perfectly well that had anyone assigned him a mission in which other POW lives were at stake, he would have done everything all over again.
There was no denying it, because it was the fucking truth.
Since that's the way missions worked and he knew it better than anyone did. No one is indispensable if it means getting the job done. Nobody.
That included Rambo or Jorgenson.
That didn’t exclude him either if you really thought about it.
Coletta swallowed at the thought.
Dying - he said to himself.
Everybody dies.
There it is, that’s the fucking line so-called professionals used as a consolation.
Nice fucking consolation – he thought.
Even so, he’d met a lot of soldiers who actually found solace in that.
Everybody dies, whether its sooner or later.
It doesn’t make the slightest difference because you were going to die anyway.
That’s not the way he saw it though.
Needless to say however, that neither he, nor anyone else on the Baker team for that matter, would shed any tears over the fact that they’d eventually have to die. As is the case that nobody from the Fifth Special Forces would fret much about knowing their time would eventually come either.
He did wish to get back home one day though, and he wanted to get back there alive and in one piece, if possible.
Coletta looked blankly into the darkness.
Yeah...
One day he’d have gone home.
Yet, strangely enough he would rather have been in Johnny's place right now and not safe and sound where he was, just standing around doing nothing.
Doing absolutely fuck all while his two team members were still out there.
With a firm voice Coletta said repeatedly in his head:
Never again, so help me God.
I swear to God I will never leave anyone else behind, ever again.