ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thanks to the many people who helped encourage me to make this story stronger and richer, especially Danny, Terry, Shelba and Julie. Special thanks to my brother, David, who introduced me to this excellent show in July, 2000 and has served as my military advisor.

This story is rated PG-13 for language.

TOUR OF DUTY: UNDER THE WIRE

Unexploded bombs from US air raids were frequently salvaged and used to arm the Vietcong booby traps responsible for 10 percent of all Americans killed or wounded during the Vietnam War.

Second Lieutenant Myron Goldman woke from his restless sleep to the terrifying pressure of two sets of hands forcing his body further into the damp jungle floor. Lying on his stomach, his face was pushed into the ground and he could taste the bitter earth entering his unprotected mouth. His vain efforts to break free of the grip left him horrified as any thoughts of his dreams vanished from memory. Oh Shit!Oh Shit!Oh Shit! his mind squealed, though the position of his chin in the dirt kept him from being able to say anything aloud.

"Don't move, LT! Don't move!" Sergeant Anderson's voice was directly above Goldman and the big man's body was on top of the panicked officer's thin frame, struggling to hold the lieutenant in place.

The platoon leader tried to turn his head but the hands on his scalp held him firmly to the ground. Danny Percell felt the lieutenant's determination and sharply demanded without raising his voice, "Damn, LT! Stop squirming!"

Still struggling against the weight of the bodies holding him down, a now incensed Lieutenant Goldman was able to ease the stranglehold Percell had on his head enough to position his mouth out of the dirt. "What the hell are you two doing?! Get off of me or I'll have you both court martialed!" Danny tightened his grip on the lieutenant's head, every muscle in his strong arms determined not to let Goldman move any further than he already had.

Myron Goldman knew his men were not particularly fond of him. He demanded respect and most of the soldiers currently under his command were used to more lax conditions. Anderson had warned that the men's respect would have to be earned, but in the inexperienced officer's opinion, he had already done that the day he earned his bars. He would not have his men treat him as anything less than his rank deserved. They did not have to like him, but they would respect him.

Now, under attack from the sergeant and PFC who had accompanied him on this mission, panic invaded the young lieutenant's brain. Was this their way of ridding themselves of an unwanted outsider? He had heard of officer's deaths being blamed on the VC under suspicious conditions. In the jungle, accidents happened and no one on base was any the wiser. What happens in the field, stays in the field.

"No disrespect, LT," Anderson said in his most cajoling voice, "but no-can-do. Until you stop moving, we can't." The sergeant, Goldman grew to realize, was not simply holding him down, but was laying on top of his entire body below the neck, keeping the officer from moving his appendages as well as his torso. Goldman understood that Anderson meant business and a sudden surge of fear replaced his fury at this rude awakening. He stopped struggling and relaxed his muscles to signal to his men that he intended to behave.

"All right. All right. I get the message. Get off of me, I can't breathe."

Neither Anderson nor Percell made any move to loosen his grip. "Again, Sir, no disrespect, but it ain't that easy. You can not move! I mean it, Sir. If you move, we all die!" Anderson felt Goldman twitch and Percell looked at his Sergeant, pleading for orders of what to do next.

"What is it, Sergeant? Tell me, dammit!" Though he was new to his command, Goldman already knew his platoon sergeant well enough to know that Anderson would not risk a court martial for this kind of insubordination if something weren't seriously wrong. Even with the morning air still cool and damp, Myron felt the sweat begin to accumulate as his anxiety continued to mount. "Anderson, that's an order!" he all but screamed.

"Trip wire, Sir," it was Percell who spoke. "Somehow, the gooks got past the perimeter and hooked up a wire over your neck."

"If you so much as take a deep breath," Anderson added, "that thing is going to go off and...well...it's my job to make sure that don't happen. So, you'll understand why I can't be lettin' you continue to squirm like that, right, Sir?"

A trip wire? Over his neck? Goldman's fear instantly changed to terror at the vision of himself and his men being blown to pieces. The lieutenant's efforts to control his trembling proved fruitless and Anderson shifted his weight to go from holding the distraught man down to just holding him. "It's okay, LT. We'll just get this thing decommissioned and we'll be back in business. Just sit tight." The big sergeant carefully slid off of Goldman's back and nodded to Percell to loosen his grip on the lieutenant's head. The private first class slowly obeyed.

Without moving his head, Goldman tried to turn his eyes to see the wire crossed over him. He felt moisture welling in his eyes as the horror of how close to death he was began to make itself clear. If Percell and Anderson hadn't seen the wire before he woke up.....

Young Lieutenant Goldman had had a close call with a booby trap just a few missions previously, but Anderson and Sergeant Michaels were able to disable the bomb without much trouble. It scared the hell out of him, but he had learned to be much more careful when treading through the jungles of Vietnam. Michaels wasn't here on this mission, but Goldman was confident that Zeke could handle disarming the bomb if no one tripped it first. Speaking in a whisper, as if silence could prevent the inevitable, Myron closed his eyes to shove back the fear before Percell could see, and asked Anderson, "Sergeant, you can fix this, right?"

"Well now, Sir, I'll sure do my best. Just hang in there." Anderson's crawl to the detonator took what seemed like an eternity. Not knowing exactly where the mechanism was planted, the big man was mindful that any one kicked stone or snapped twig could cause the bomb to go off. He lifted each leaf in the vicinity with the tender care of a beekeeper retrieving his honey. "Found it, Lieutenant...Shit!"

Myron's heart sank with the sound of Anderson's profanity. The sergeant was an expert at keeping his men calm in the face of danger and for him to allow even the slightest cause for concern to slip into his vocabulary, Goldman knew the news was bad indeed. Believing anger would be easier to deal with than his anxiety, the lieutenant snapped, "What is it now, Sergeant? What the hell are you waiting for?" Anderson's reply came slowly as the man studied the situation before him. "Well?" Goldman rumbled.

"Well now, Sir, looks like Charlie had no intention of making this easy for us. Looks like they want you dead."

"No kidding." It wasn't a question. Goldman was losing his patience and losing it quickly. "Tell me what you see, Sergeant."

"Well now, Sir...," Anderson's beginning of every sentence with "Well now, Sir" was starting to get on his platoon leader's nerves, "...looks like they put these branches and twigs and things on top of the mechanism in a way that, if I try to move 'em, they'll set the damned thing off." Sergeant Anderson gave the private on the other side of the wire a look that told Percell to be ready to leap on top of the lieutenant should Goldman forget he was the trigger for the bomb and try to look for himself.

Percell was young and strong and moved very quickly the minute he recognized Goldman's intentions. "No, Sir! Stay still!" the PFC ordered his superior with a passion that made the staff sergeant proud. Anderson was helpless to move to Danny's aid, but the young soldier seemed to have things under control. Zeke Anderson had to work hard to stifle a grin at the sight of Percell shoving Goldman's face into the earth.

"Good, boy, Percell. Now, LT, you gotta just keep ahold of yourself until we figure out how to get you out of this mess."

Goldman rolled his eyes before closing them again. "It's okay, Percell. You can let go of me now. I'm fine." Although relieved to feel the pressure released from his head, Myron made no attempt to lift it again. "So, what next, Anderson?"

"Well now, Sir," Goldman fought back a growl, "I guess I could try to radio in help. But it's gonna be awhile before anyone gets to us out here in these boonies. And if the VC got close enough to us last night to rig this here booby trap, then they might could be down on us any minute." Goldman was not happy hearing the staff sergeant reflect his own assessment of the situation.

"Why didn't they just finish us off last night? Why the trip wire instead of just shooting us?" Goldman had yet to figure out the VC mind and he hoped Anderson's experience would find an explanation.

"I don't know, Sir." Anderson sat a moment pondering the question. "I suppose they weren't sure how many of us there were and didn't want to risk a firefight. If there were only a couple two-three of them and they figured us to be an entire squad, they probably didn't like the odds. They picked you 'cause you're wearing the bars. They take out the platoon leader, the rest of us are easy targets."

"Son of a bitch!." It was Percell, soaking in Anderson's words. "How did the gooks get so close last night without any of us hearing 'em?" Goldman could hear the guilt in the kid's voice. Anderson could see it on his face.

"Now looky here, Danny," Anderson soothed, "It's not anybody's fault. There's only three of us and we can't see everything all the time. If it's anybody's fault, it's whoever thought up this mission and split the squad up like this. I'd kick his butt if I ever got ahold of him!"

Despite his position, Goldman found it hard not to smile. "Start kicking, Sergeant. It was my idea. It was supposed to be an easy-in-easy-out information-gathering mission. I didn't see the need to disrupt everyone's leave--just yours and Percell's."

Danny chuckled nervously. Anderson grinned at Goldman. "Well now, Sir," he mused, "then I guess that's why you're layin' there on your belly and not me."

Ignoring the comment, Goldman instead offered, "Let's see if we can't get me out of here now, okay?" The lieutenant's fear had not subsided, but the small diversion with the banter between Anderson and himself helped ease the terror somewhat. He needed to focus on a solution that would get him out of this hell as soon as possible. If the VC did return to check their handywork and found the three soldiers still alive, Goldman, Anderson and Percell wouldn't stand a chance.

"What if we dig you out, Sir," Danny suggested. "The ground is fairly soft. We could dig the earth down under you and slide you out." The boy's bright blue eyes gleamed with the satisfaction that he had come up with the perfect solution, and just as quickly dimmed with uncertainty while the lieutenant and Sergeant Anderson silently pondered the idea.

After several minutes, Zeke broke the silence. "Sounds good to me, LT. What do you think?"

Anderson was sitting not quite within Goldman's line of sight and with Danny hovering over the top of his head like a mother hen, also not in his vision, Myron let out a sigh and once again closed his eyes. "I think if you guys make one wrong move with your shovels or toss the dirt just one millimeter in the wrong direction, we're all dead. It's not a good plan." He paused a moment before conceding. "But it's the only plan we got." No one moved, waiting for Goldman to give the order to proceed. The apprehensive lieutenant, not in any hurry to be blown apart, continued to let them wait a while longer.

"All right, you guys," he finally directed, "Go ahead and dig me out. Slowly. I mean it! Slowly!"

"Yes, Sir," the others said in unison, both reaching for their packs to dig out their utility shovels. Percell stopped and turned to the lieutenant. "Now, LT, if I leave you on your own here while I dig you out, are you gonna promise to stay put? You still can't move a muscle, Sir. Not even to swat a mosquito."

Damn that Percell! He had to mention the bugs. Goldman was immediately overwhelmed with the creepy-crawlies. He felt the mosquitoes biting his arms and heard the ceaseless buzz of gnats circling his ears. He had heard of the inconceivable persecution inflicted on American soldiers in the POW camps, but he imagined the sound of the bugs in the Vietnam jungle was almost as torturous. His arms, which had been at his side since the men awoke him with their attack, teemed with insects--most of the biting variety--but because the appendages were on either side of his prone body, he was helpless to scratch one with the other. Goldman flexed his muscles like a horse trying to rid itself of a fly, but, like the horsefly, the bugs refused to leave. The buzzing in his ear seemed to increase in volume and the platoon leader was afraid he might begin to weep in despair. He never answered Percell's question.

Anderson was the first to begin shoveling. As he had been the one to immobilize Goldman's lower body earlier, so would he be the one to dig the trench there. He used his hands to remove the underbrush and loosen the dirt around the officer's body before picking up his tool. Noticing Goldman's discomfort, Anderson paused from his work and gently laid a hand on Myron's twitching arm, trying to comfort the constrained man the best he could. Without reprimand, the sergeant took his canteen and poured a small amount of water onto a patch of dirt, scouping a handful of the resulting mud to smudge on the lieutenant's arms.

"Thanks, Zeke. Mind giving me some of that on my face, too?"

"I hear that, Sir," the sergeant agreed, seeing that Percell was already making his own puddle near the lieutenant's head. With the mud in place on his exposed extremities, Goldman settled down to wait it out.

The digging was slow, as ordered. Percell used mostly his hands to move the dirt out from under his Lieutenant's head, afraid he might miss the ground with the shovel and bash in Goldman's skull instead. With as much as Myron wanted out of this spot, he wanted even less to be a victim of a runaway shovel, so he declined to object to the slower method of digging. Anderson, still in the rear, worked more quickly, but his area to dig around was much larger, so all things being even, Goldman figured it would take another hour before the men would meet at the neck and free him of the VC trap.

After a considerable amount of time had passed, the platoon leader broke the silence. "I need to turn my head, you guys," he abruptly announced. "I've been stuck in this position forever and I have got to move my head."

"No can-do, LT," Anderson said, halting his shoveling task. He had finished the area under Goldman's legs and had just begun scooping dirt out from under the man's stomach.. "We haven't done your neck yet and if you lift your head--I mean if you lift it so much as a quarter-inch--we won't ever get to your neck. Stay put just a little longer, Sir. Try not to think about it."

"I can't not think about it, Sergeant" Goldman fretted. "God, it hurts." The pain in his stiff neck was comparable only to the pain in his arms and legs. He had been awake for no more than an hour, but who knew for how long he had laid in that position before being awakened. His body began to scream its complaints and Goldman was sure he would lose control and be damned the consequences.

Percell had stopped his efforts at the same time as the sergeant, not quite understanding Goldman's torment but trying to be sympathetic nonetheless. He flashed his questioning eyes at Anderson as he watched the lieutenant's trembling body. Myron fought against his misery, but the tracks of his tears were unmistakable on his mud-covered face. Danny placed a comforting hand on the lieutenant's head and waited to see if he would be required to apply force to hold it down. The anguished officer stayed still but a moan escaped as the small amount of pressure sent shockwaves of pain through his tormented spinal column.

"Go away, Sergeant. Take Percell with you. Get as far away as you can."

Percell blinked in surprise. Anderson waved a forget it, Danny, we ain't goin' nowhere gesture at the now terrified young soldier. To Goldman he said, "Sir, you know we're not going to leave until we're done digging you out. It won't be long now. Just hold on. Try to sleep or something. We'll be done in a jiffy."

Ordinarily, Goldman might have laughed at the suggestion of sleep, but now he longed to be able to drift into unconsciousness until this ordeal was over. The pain and stiffness disallowed such an easy solution and he began to lose control. Danny still had one hand on the officer's head and instantaneously moved his other hand to join it. He held down as tightly as he felt he could, but this time, with a trench already dug halfway around the platoon leader's head and body, the pressure required to completely immobilize him might snap his neck. "LT! LT! Stop struggling!"

Goldman was beyond listening to his men's pleas. He needed to be released lest he go insane. Anderson was on top of the officer's back, holding his arms down with great effort. The situation was getting out of control and Anderson needed to do something quickly before the lieutenant killed all three of them. The burly sergeant was able to use one arm, his body and legs to hold down the squirming smaller man and used his one free hand to rifle through Goldman's pockets. To his relief, he found what he was looking for in one of the exposed pouches. If it had been in a front pocket, it would have been locked out of his reach under Myron's body.

As quickly as he could, Sergeant Anderson snapped the plastic cap off of the serette with his mouth and aimed it at Goldman's rear. "No disrespect," he quipped and stabbed LT right on target. "Without a medic on the mission," Anderson explained to the stunned private, "LT has a kit on him. The lieutenant likes to carry the morphine in his pocket for easy access."

Sergeant Anderson and Percell continued to hold down the struggling lieutenant for the seemingly interminable minutes it took for the drug to work. Their muscles quivered with exertion, but Goldman could not control his distress and neither man was willing to give up the fight to restrain him. Finally the officer relaxed and ended his desperate battle for freedom. Anderson heaved a sigh of relief and laid his head momentarily in the middle of Myron's back. Danny had to be ordered to let go of the officer's head, but eventually felt it safe enough to loosen his grasp. Although not unconscious, the morphine eased the lieutenant's discomfort and allowed him to drift into a dreamless sleep.

"Come on, Percell.." Anderson had lifted himself from Goldman's back and was already digging. "That stuff isn't going to last long and he's not going to wake up happy. MoveItMoveItMoveIt!"

Danny Percell began to work much more effectively, now that he didn't have to worry about Goldman flinching if the shovel got too close to the lieutenant's face. Anderson was already moving dirt out from under the officer's stomach and working his way closer to the wire. The two men met at Goldman's neck and hesitated. "Hell, Sarge, this is it. That wire is awful close to him."

"Don't think about it Danny. Let's just get it done." Before either man could begin his efforts, a rustling came from the jungle around them. "Could be a monkey. Let's go."

"Could be Charlie coming to see if their little trap worked, Sarge." Percell looked at Anderson with such intensity the sergeant was compelled to give the idea some consideration.

"All right, Percell, get your weapon and check out the perimeter. Don't do anything. Just check it out." Private Percell didn't have to be told twice. He gathered his M16 and stood up, giving the two men he respected most in the world a final, concerned look before heading out into the jungle.

"It probably is Charlie, LT," Anderson remarked to the sleeping officer. "You picked a hellava time to get into a pickle." The sergeant began shoveling double-time.

By the time Percell returned, the staff sergeant had completed the job of digging the lieutenant into a hole. The wire was now clearly high enough above Goldman so that if Anderson dragged him back by the feet, the officer's head should clear it without incident. "Nothin' out there, Sarge," Danny announced. "No sign of VC. All the same, I think we better get out of here ASAP!"

"I hear that!" Anderson grabbed Goldman by the boots and slowly began to inch the subdued man toward him, watching for signs that they might not clear the wire. "Get up by his head and help ease him back. Move any debris that might fly up and trip the wire." Percell promptly obeyed and tried to smooth the earth under his lieutenant's face. "Easy, Danny. Nice and slow!"

Just as he was nearly clear of the trap, Goldman moaned and began to stir. The movement of his body after hours of stiffness sent a new surge of discomfort through his brain, rousing him out of his drug-filled stupor. "What the he....?"

Anderson didn't wait. The soldier knew he could not afford another struggle with Goldman while the man's head was still under the wire. His opportunity to get clear of this monstrosity was now or never. With one quick pull, Myron Goldman was sent flying out from beneath the trap and free from his prison. The young lieutenant's face scraped across rocks and debris that left gaping holes in his skin, but Anderson knew, with the morphine still in his system, the lieutenant would not likely feel those pains until later in the day. Hopefully, Zeke mused, when we're much farther from this place, where the tantrum will be less likely to result in a VC onslaught.

Percell ran around the booby trap and joined Anderson who was still holding Goldman by the feet. "Sterilize the site the best you can, Danny. We got to move! And be quiet. I'm not so sure I like the silence I'm hearing!" While the private darted away to gather weapons, canteens and rucksacks, Sergeant Anderson unceremoniously dropped Goldman's feet and moved to crouch down next to the lieutenant's head. He rolled Myron onto his back and saw just how much damage the ground had done to the man's youthful face. Ignoring the blood, Zeke gently slapped Goldman's cheeks to help bring the lieutenant back to consciousness. "Sir, let's go! We got to move! Wake up, LT!" he demanded as loud as a whisper would allow.

"Crap," the sergeant resigned himself. Thanking God that he was a strong individual, Anderson lifted the semiconscious officer by the armpits and slung the oblivious man over his shoulder. Goldman muttered something unintelligible, but Zeke didn't bother asking him to repeat it. Private Percell joined them and together, the three men traveling as two headed toward the pickup zone. "Let's hope the bird waited on us. We're a little behind schedule," Anderson remarked, with just enough sarcasm shining through his voice to make Danny smile.

********

Lieutenant Goldman sat on his cot smoking his fifth cigarette in an hour. Having the smoking white cylinder in his hand was almost as comforting as the memories of sneaking a smoke with his buddies behind the bleachers during the high school homecoming game. He knew he smoked too much, but without the movement of the cigarette from his hand to his mouth and feeling the pleasure of the smoke filling his lungs, he believed he might lose his mind. He had come damned close to dying out there today. Worse, he almost took Sergeant Anderson and Private Percell with him. Worse still, he had cried in front of his subordinates.

The interruption at his door startled him, even though he was expecting it. "Come," he invited, not lifting his head nor his eyes to greet his visitor.

Zeke Anderson entered the room and flashed his always-present paternal grin at the young officer. "How ya doing, LT?" He inventoried the man's skin and winced at the sight of the bumps and bruises that he had helped to put on the otherwise handsome face. "Hey, Sir. Sorry about the face. Didn't mean to hurt you."

"Sergeant....Zeke....the only thing that hurts is my pride." Myron looked up for the first time and gave Anderson his standard lopsided grin.

"Aw, LT. Me and Percell won't say anything to the rest of the guys. Hell, I would've probably lost it a long time before you did if it'd been my rump under that wire. You done good, Sir. Real good."

They were just the words Goldman was looking for. He knew Anderson would find a way to make things better. He always did. Lieutenant Goldman stood and shook the sergeant's hand. "Thanks, Zeke. You saved my life."

"Wasn't nothing, Sir. That's what friends are for."

END