Birdy

the last gushings of blood. I turn my head and throw up.
    There’s no excuse to go back now. I get down on my knees carefully. Harrington must’ve had a shoe mine behind him, between his arms, all the time. He probably just lay back on it. I’m absolutely gripped with fear again.
    I don’t know how long I stay there beside Harrington. It could’ve been two minutes or even twenty. My mind is going back and forth, not wanting to work. I know I’m crying; I’m not making it at all.
    It begins getting lighter; the fog is lifting; the sun is orange over Reuth. I have to do something. I stand up and start working my way up the hill. I’m walking over mines like walking over cracks in the sidewalk; I know I’m not being careful enough. I’m numb in my mind. I get to the top of the hill.
    There’s a grove of trees over to the right. The whole platoon is there. I see Richards. They’re all digging in like crazy. Richards comes running to me.
    ‘Where the fuck’ve you been? We’re going to be pulling out of here and going into the town in a couple minutes! There’re tanks up there! Who the hell has the tank grenades?’
    ‘Harrington got it back there; shoe mine.’
    ‘Shit! Christ, we’ve got to get outta here. Who the hell’s got the tank grenades?’
    ‘One of the replacements had them. He’s back on the hill.’
    ‘Christ! What a fucking mess! We need bazookas! Mortars getting closer and we’re fucked if those tanks find us! Where-in-hell’s the Lieutenant?’
    Richards is dashing back and forth saying these things. He’s at least as scared as I am but he thinks of things to do. He runs back to the others. I flop on the ground there and hold onto it. I’m going to stay right there. I’m ready to take it all, whatever comes. Let the tanks blast away; let the krauts take me prisoner; give me a court-martial, dishonorable discharge. I’m ready for itall. I’m dead; out of it. I’m not thinking these things out loud but that’s the way it is. I’m past even being scared; past everything. I only want it all to stop.
    Then Richards stands up and waves his arms in the ‘let’s go’ signal. Everybody stops digging and gets up. I watch myself get up with them. I’m not thinking anymore. I’m just doing it. I’d make a great lemming. They start over the ridge, Richards first, then Vance and Scanlan, then the other replacement, then me. There are other guys who fall in behind. The whole thing is screwed up.
    We go about fifty yards and one of the mortars comes in close. We all hit the ground. When we get up, the replacement turns, looks back, then runs past me down the hill. He’s going to hit a mine for sure.
    We go on some more. Still no tanks. Maybe Richards is wrong. My mind is starting to work again. Then it comes fast, no sound. Direct fire, eighty-eight. I’m on the ground; the ground socks my guts. I don’t even hear the motors. Dirt is coming down everywhere. I put up my head and it comes again. The ground thumps under me but I’m still all right. I’m enjoying not caring much; it makes it all so much easier. I feel separate, like at a movie of a war.
    Somebody’s yelling he’s hit. It’s Vance. He runs past holding his helmet out in his hand. Blood’s flowing. A piece of shrapnel has pinned his hand onto his helmet. I hear a moan in front of me. I look. Scanlan turns his face to me. He’s screaming. It doesn’t look like Scanlan, it’s a death head; bare skull starting to ooze blood.
    ‘I’m hit! My eyes! I can’t see! Help me, somebody!’
    He stands up and wobbles toward me. He can’t see because his whole face’s been wiped off and pulled to one side like a mask. The flesh is hanging over one eye and the other eye is hanging over the bone socket onto his cheek. His nose and upper lip are gone. I can see his teeth sticking into his gums. Some of the teeth are broken and pushed in. I crawl up to him, grab him by the legs and pull him down.
    ‘Don’t touch your face! You’re hit in the face!’
    Scanlan sits on the ground, still holding onto his rifle. I squat in front of him, grab the skin of his face and try to wrap it across into place again. It feels like rubber and is shrunken so it doesn’t fit. I get the nose centered and tell Scanlan to hold onto the end of the flap while I undo my aid kit. For a second, I actually don’t know where my aid kit is. I’m yelling for help but nobody’s behind me anymore and Richards is still on the ground up ahead. I yell