Enemy Of Mine

Marvin Johnson was walking point through an open field when he stopped and raised his fist. The lieutenant and the sergeant made their way up the long column of soldiers to see what the hold up was. Johnson said he thought he heard something… couldn't be Charlie, you never heard Charlie. Sergeant Anderson asked him what he thought it was.

"I don't know Sarge, maybe some kind of animal noise, I'll check it out."

"Okay," Lieutenant Goldman agreed. "Not too long, and take Percell with you."

It did not take long for Johnson and Percell to reappear, five minutes at the most. They looked sick, like they had just thrown up, and indeed they had. It bothered Zeke, wondering what they must have seen to have that kind of reaction--both were seasoned combat veterans. The sergeant did not want to imagine what it would take to get this kind of response from them, so he stayed quiet; he figured he would let the LT handle this.

"What is it?" The lieutenant asked, annoyed that he had to ask at all.

Percell did not seem to be able to speak. "Well Sir," Johnson started. "There is an enemy soldier wounded over there,” he said, pointing just beyond the tree line. “He's kind of...in half. He's still alive, he keeps saying something, maybe you should take Hue."

The LT nodded. "Sergeant Anderson, Hue come with me."

Zeke was angry. He really did not want to go. He knew from the look on Percell's face that whatever he had seen for that moment, he was now going to see for the rest of his life. Zeke already saw Captain Wallace and Doc Matsuda on some nights, on others he could hear Private Keller's sucking chest wound…wasn't that enough?

The lieutenant and Hue were already walking in the direction Johnson and Percell had just come from. The sergeant reluctantly followed. They heard a shrill high-pitched moan, and though it did not really sound human, they knew that it must be coming from the wounded enemy.

They stopped abruptly--the enemy soldier in front of them, lying in a small ditch just off the trail. Johnson had been pretty accurate in his description. The soldier's body had been cut in half and severed around the hips…must have been from the M-60. It was grotesquely lying there with at least six inches of separation. None of them had ever seen anything quite so horrifying and unbelievably, the soldier was very much alive. What they were also desperately trying not to notice was the age of their enemy. He could not possibly be more than fourteen years old. The boy’s dark eyes had not yet glazed over with death; they still stared out with a look of shock and terror. None of them had spoken. Finally, the lieutenant asked Hue what the soldier was saying.

"He wants us to shoot him," Hue said softly. "He is begging us to have mercy on him…to kill him."

"What do you think Sergeant?" LT asked in a voice that was hushed, like they were speaking in a church.

"I'll do it," Zeke answered immediately, surprising himself. The lieutenant seemed immensely relieved as he handed Anderson his firearm.

"Just go," Anderson said. "I'll catch up."

When Hue and the lieutenant were out of sight Zeke looked down at the terrified boy and marveled at the human body. How could this boy be alive and conscious? The young dark eyes found the gun in the sergeant’s hand and pleaded with him to go ahead.

Zeke crouched down next to the boy and laid the pistol on the ground beside him. He took out his canteen, put some water in his hand and wet the boy’s cracked lips. The fear in the stunned dark eyes grew as the burly sergeant squatted over him, his calloused hands clumsily searching the small shattered body. Zeke finally fingered what he was looking for and pulled a faded black and white photograph from the left breast pocket.

The photograph was well used, torn almost in half at the crease from the constant folding and unfolding. The sergeant winced, looking at the faces that smiled back at him, and then held the beloved family picture up for the boy to see. Using the little Vietnamese that he knew, Zeke pointed to the photo, struggling to find the words for mother, father, sister, brother and home. He put his hand over the terrified boy’s eyes and tried to tell him to close them and go there…go home.

Sergeant Anderson understood the terror. It was not always from the thought of dying--it was from the thought of dying alone. He had held enough soldiers’ hands as they took their last breath to understand that. He gently stroked the boy's cheek while he spoke. The veteran sergeant did not know that he was crying, his soldier self had never cried before…there were no sobs or noise of any kind, but he felt warm tears stream down his face. The enemy was almost gone, he could always tell.

With his last willful act, the boy made a feeble grasp at Anderson’s shirt and tried to tell him something. Zeke nodded reassuringly, even though he did not understand. The dark eyes were almost peaceful now, dull and resigned as the last spark of life mercifully left the young useless body.

Zeke sat there a minute, not wanting to let go of the moment. It was one of the most intimate experiences of his life. He felt a keen awareness of God's presence and a clarity about life and death that he had not known before. He knew the sensation would be gone as soon as he stood up. For that moment the enemy was no longer a gook or a dink or a slope. His enemy was a fourteen-year-old child, a human being that would never fall in love or have sex or children. Hell, he probably had never even had his first kiss. What had his father felt sending him off to war?

Zeke stopped himself abruptly and stood up, knowing that he could not continue in that train of thought…that would get him killed. He felt amazingly good though. Cleansed somehow.

Sergeant Anderson wiped his face and hustled to catch up with his unit.

The lieutenant found him immediately. "I was getting worried Sergeant, everything okay?" The LT did have a knack for asking ridiculously stupid questions.

"Yeah, everything's okay,” Zeke answered flatly, wondering how everything could possibly be okay in a world where a fourteen year old boy could be shot in half.

"I didn't hear a shot," the lieutenant prodded, noticing that the gun had not been fired.

"No Sir, he died before I had to shoot him."

"That's good Sergeant," LT said, patting him on the back, sounding relieved about it.

They started moving out again. Anderson found Hue and asked him to interpret something for him. He tried to remember the words the boy had spoken to him exactly and repeated them as best he could.

Hue seemed to know what it was right away. "It is an ancient blessing," he said.

"A blessing?" Anderson asked, not quite sure.

"Yes, a blessing, you know Sergeant… the opposite of a curse. It is the highest blessing that one can bestow among my people. The one you mentioned is for protection against evil for you and your family."

Zeke nodded. "Thanks," was all he could manage to say.

"Sometimes, as a soldier, you had to fight as hard as you could to feel something," Zeke thought. "Other times you had to fight as hard as you could to NOT feel anything." The more the sergeant thought about all this the less he understood it. Anderson decided he was really not a smart man, and would not be able to figure out what it all meant. He tried to concentrate on humping and to forget about the boy, the blessing, the enemy and the war. From years of practice the sergeant knew that he would be successful for now. It would be at some later unknown, unpredictable time that the boy would be back; resurfacing in his dreams or memory to bother him with questions he knew he was incapable of answering.