Birdy

the brow of the hill toward me. I scrunch lower. At first it’s just silhouettes, then I see the field green of a kraut soldier. Shaking, I bring my rifle to my cheek and feel for the trigger through my gloves. I pull and nothing happens. They keep coming. I push off the safety and pull again. There’s a tremendous kick. Only then, I remember I still have that phosphorous grenade on the rifle. It hits one of the soldiers and explodes with a flash.
    ‘Who the hell is that? Hold your fuckin’ fire.’
    It’s Richards and he’s brushing madly at a kraut. I rush up the hill, forgetting the mines. I get there and help brush phosphorous off the kraut. He’s sitting on the ground. The phosphorous is like pieces of fire that burn through everything. The kraut is screaming and we brush madly to get all the pieces off. He peels off his overcoat and jacket, there’s a dark red spot on his side where the grenade hit.
    ‘What the fuck you doing back here? You’re supposed to be with Harrington. I’m using this fucker to pick a path through these fuckin’ mines for the rest of the platoon to get through. You get your ass after Harrington. Tell him to meet up with us at the pine trees just over the hill.’
    I start going around the hill in the direction Harrington was going. Now, some mortar is coming in. I think one hits just over the hill in front of me, but then from the flash, I know it isn’t mortar. I start hurrying. I’m stepping over mine wires and past shoe mine triggers like I’m playing hopscotch. I don’t get it. A few minutes ago I couldn’t make myself move.
    Harrington’s sitting on the ground. He’s holding onto his knee and rocking back and forth. His rifle’s on the ground beside him. He’s screaming!
    ‘My God, my God! Mother of God! Mother! My leg!! Oh my God!’
    I drop beside him. His face is green. Blood is spurting out between his hands from his knee! I almost vomit when I see it. The bottom part of his leg, below the knee, is hanging by a piece of flesh. Jagged bones stick out from shrunken flesh. The otherleg has fragments of shrapnel sticking through the cloth, through the boot, into the flesh. Harrington looks at me and his eyes are black holes.
    ‘Holy God! I’m bleeding to death! Stop it! Help me, Al! Jesus Christ, help me!’
    My hands are shaking but I get my belt off. I wrap it tight where Harrington’s squeezing. I pull it taut and try to make it hold. My fingers are slippery with blood. I get the friction bar of the brass buckle to catch. Harrington lets go with his hands and there’s only a trickle. I take off my aid kit and pull out the bandage. I put the pad over the stump end and wrap the strings above the belt. I take out my canteen and make Harrington take the wound tablets. I’d forgotten the sulfa and try lifting the bandage to scatter it inside. Somehow, I’m making it. Harrington is leaning back on his hands and looking down at his leg hanging there cocked sidewise. The shoe’s been completely blown off and you can see the bones where the flesh is flayed away.
    I’m afraid to pull any of the shrapnel pieces out of the other leg. Harrington’s sinking into shock fast. His face is completely white and he’s crying. The hell with Richards; I’m going after a medic. They’re probably all hanging back in the woods. I still haven’t said anything to Harrington. I try to steady my voice.
    ‘Don’t move! I’ll go get a medic!’
    Harrington nods his head. He’s biting his lower lip and holding onto the leg that isn’t blown off. I carefully prop the stump of his other leg onto his helmet. I drive his rifle, barrel first, into the ground so the medics can find him. I look once more at Harrington and start back down the hill.
    Jesus, the whole field is solid mines! I’m going against the lines of mines and stepping over one wire after another. I’m amazed I can do it. Maybe I’ve gotten past something in myself. About twenty yards down the hill, I look around to orient myself for bringing the medics back. Harrington lifts one hand; he’s been watching me. I wave and start down the hill again. I haven’t gone three steps when there’s a tremendous explosion. I look back and see Harrington’s limp body in the air. It twists once,then hits the ground with a bounce. I run back, jumping over mines and wires.
    He’s torn in half. I can see through his stomach. There’s not a mark on his face and he’s already dead. His intestines glisten and slide in