A veteran’s story
I heard the muffled explosion of the foot popper and froze.
“Mines! Medic! We need a medic!”, a voice ahead shouted.
Almost immediately there was another explosion. Minutes passed. No one talked or moved. I was sinking lower in the calf deep mud. Fear kept me from shifting my feet much.
More minutes before, “We need help up here, but be careful.” Overlock and I plodded up the jungle trail.
Rogers was on an air mattress. The three small toes and one-third of his right foot were missing. What remained of the foot was shattered and tied to the shin. The same for the medic.
I knelt and lit a cigarette for him. “The morphine working?”
“Yes. You still feel the pain, just don’t give a damn.”
His eyes flashed to mine. “I feel sorry for you guys. I’m going home.