“So, you’re a pacifist.”1
“A conscientious objector, sir.”2
“Cut the parade ground crap soldier, we’re in the field now. So, you don’t believe in any killing? Any at all?”3
“I believe that killing another human being is immoral, yes.”4
“What religion are you?”5
“Christian.”6
“What? Not a Jehovah’s Witness or something.”7
“Nope.”8
Another soldier interjected in the conversation between the Sergeant and the medic, “Jehovah’s Witnesses are Christians.”9
“It’s alright Peter,” replied the medic. “It’s alright.”10
Ignoring the remark the Sergeant continued, “Hell! I’m a Christian. Why didn’t they let me off too.”11
“I didn’t object on religious grounds, but moral.”12
“Oh right. I’ve never heard of that before. Who did you have to kill to get that approved?” The other men snorted and tittered and the Sergeant beamed at his own cleverness.13
The squad trudged on through the twilit fields, moving around hay bales and along hedgerows and low stone walls.14
After a minute, the Sergeant carried on, “Have you ever fired a gun?”15
“Nope.”16
“Do you wanna?”17
“Not really.”18
“Were you always a pacifist?”19
The medic frowned trying to recall, but the Sergeant carried on.20
“I mean, did you play cowboys and indians as a kid? Cops and robbers. Blam! Blam! You know... did you shoot pretend guns?”21
“Yeah, but that’s different.”22
“Nobody died? Nobody dies if you shoot at a target. Wanna have a go?”23
“Why?”24
“Hey lads! You hear that? Why shoot a gun? ‘Cause it’s fun... that’s why.”25
The other soldiers slowed their pace to watch, some nodding in agreement with the Sergeant.26
“Here, take my pistol.” The Sergeant was holding out his gun, but the medic didn’t take it.27
“Take it. That’s an order.”28
“Sergeant-” the Lieutenant warned in a low, slow tone.29
“It’s alright sir,” replied the medic as he held out his hand and took the pistol.30
The squad stopped to watch. The Sergeant looked around and pointed out a small copse to the left. “Now careful. Point it away from all of us. Over there at those trees.”31
The medic gingerly raised the pistol and took aim. Then lowered the pistol with a quizzical look, “Nothing happened.”32
“You’ve got the safety on dumb f***. It’s this switch here.”33
The medic took aim again and fired off a single shot, the pistol jerking his arm up into the air above his shoulder.34
“That’s the way boy-“ the Sergeant was cut off by the sound of gun fire being returned from the cluster of trees. “Sh**! Take cover. Everybody down!”35
The men dropped to the ground or dodged behind a nearby, large hay bale. One soldier pulled out his radio and shouted frantically into the handset, “Contact! Contact! Taking fire. Position is Green sector Sierra 4-8-8-3. Contact! Contact! This is Echo Bravo Niner taking fire.”36
None of the soldiers could make out any muzzle flashes or gun smoke among the trees, so the returning fire was sporadic and aimless. The lieutenant made his way to the hay bale and spoke to the radio operator. Then he called out, “Cease fire! Sergeant – cease fire!” The call went around the men and the firing stopped. “HQ reports that’s one of ours. Hold your fire!”37
At the same time the shooting from the trees stopped and a hand waved out from behind a bush in the copse. The sergeant waved back and the squad all stood up. Then crack! Another shot rang out and down went one of the squad.38
“What the f***! Take cover!” cried the Sergeant again.39
One soldier looked bemused and pondered aloud, “Why haven’t they stopped firing?” before a squad mate pulled his legs from under him and held him on the ground.40
“Medic! Medic!” called a private kneeling beside the shot soldier. The medic ran over and found him bleeding from a single shot wound high on his arm close to the shoulder. Blood was slowly oozing from both sides of the wound as the medic pulled out his bandages and medikit. The kneeling soldier moved off to a better fighting position, while the injured man looked confused at the medic.41
“What happened? Am I hit?”42
“Yeah.”43
“Is it bad?”44
“Dunno. I think you’ll live. Does it hurt?”45
“Kind of. I feel sick.”46
“Take it easy.”47
“Hey medic.”48
“Yeah.”49
“What’s your name? I only know you as medic.”50
“Thomas.”51
“Nice to meet you Thomas. I’m Frank.”52
The other soldiers realized that the gun shot had come from directly ahead of them rather than from the trees. There was a stone wall ahead and they guessed that a sniper was behind the wall. Taking their time and exploiting their superior numbers, they encircled the sniper’s position. By the time Thomas finished patching up Frank, they had shot and incapacitated the sniper.53
Frank was able to walk, so he was sent back to the logistics unit who could give him a ride to the nearest infirmary. The rest of the squad prepared to move out and continue the advance. 54
Thomas looked concerned, “What about him?” he pointed at the injured sniper. The prisoner, lying on the ground beside the stone wall, looked frightened and had a bloody wound frothing just above the heart. He struggled every time he tried to move so nobody bothered to restrain him.55
“Leave him,” said the Sergeant dismissively.56
“I can help him,” said Thomas. As the others ignored him, he looked anxiously from soldier to soldier. “He’s got a punctured lung. If we roll him onto his left side, the right lung will be able to breathe and he could live.”57
Peter wandered toward Thomas and the enemy soldier, but before he arrived, the Lieutenant barked out an order, “Put him on his right side.” Two of the other squadies shoved the man over and wedged him against the wall.58
“I said the left side,” Thomas observed in confusion. “On his right, his other lung will fill with blood and he’ll drown.”59
“Leave him,” barked the Lieutenant.60
Thomas’ guts churned at the inhumanity. Peter, seeing the conflict in Thomas, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The Sergeant drifted nearby the two friends and spoke in a low, yet audible voice, “A prisoner would only slow down the advance.” Then he moved off to join the men as they took up their patrol positions.61
Thomas walked beside Peter.62
“This isn’t what I expected when I signed up.”63
“You didn’t sign up. You were drafted. We both were. Remember?”64
“Well... This isn’t how it’s meant to be. It’s f***ed up.”65
Thomas took a final glance back at the dying man then carried on walking in silence. After a few minutes he spoke again. “Thanks for speaking up earlier.”66
“Hah. What are best friends for?” Peter smiled at his friend. “You could do with a clean uniform, look at yourself.”67
Thomas had blood stains on both his hands and sleeves and there was a mix of mud and blood from his knees up to his belt.68
“Is this how we’re gonna die?” Thomas asked.69
“Who knows. We’ve known each other how long?”70
“Fifteen years.”71
“School together. Drafted together. Served together.” Peter didn’t finish the thought and changed the subject. “What did they teach you in basic?”72
“I’m highly qualified at fixing splinter wounds in wooden mannequins and cleaning make-up from play-acting nurses.” Thomas caught sight of Peter’s raised eyebrows and sidelong glance. “Male nurses,” Thomas laughed. ”You know I’ve never seen a real, fresh wound... until today. The funny thing is, I felt so happy when I saw that red-ink stamped across my application form ‘APPROVED,’ not having to fight. This is better than bomb disposal. And it felt good that we got into the same unit too.”73
“Yeah, me too. You know what they taught us in basic? They taught us that the enemy isn’t human. We are all perfect killing machines, because their lives don’t mean sh**. I’m ready to kill. And kill and kill and kill. But they didn’t teach us what to do when you’re being shot down by snipers. I’m ready to kill ‘em all, but when I don’t know where they are, I get... I dunno, I get...”74
“Frustrated?”75
“Yeah, but times a hundred. And angry. Real angry. I want ‘em all to die.” Peter paused for a while, then continued in a lower, conspiratorial tone, “But deep down. Deep, deep down in here; I know it’s wrong. I know they’re just like us. With families, wives, children, homes, love, hope... the whole thing. You know. They ain’t monsters.” Peter looked pained. “But I’ll still kill ‘em anyway.”76
“That’s sick.”77
“Maybe. But as long as I can keep myself fooled that they really are monsters, I can do my job.”78
“I could never be like that.”79
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. It’s… almost comforting.”80
As night fell, the squad set up a field camp and a watch rota.81
The next morning they approached their target town, fearing stiff resistance. As they drew close to the first outlying building, Thomas and the radio operator remained behind a ridge line. The rest of the squad moved over the ridge to begin the assault.82
There was an exchange of fire in a prolonged skirmish, lasting almost half an hour, then came the cries. “Medic! Medic!”83
Thomas raised himself to a crouched running position and threw himself over the ridge. The squad were arrayed along the outer back wall of the house and were firing around the ends of the building. In return they were taking fire from across the road at the front of the house. A soldier was being dragged to the middle of the wall by two of the men. Thomas raced straight toward them, gun shots ringing out from both sides of the street. As he approached the injured soldier he saw that it was his friend Peter.84
The side of Peter’s head was a bloody mess mixed with hair and chips of his skull. Most of his ear was gone and he was gasping erratically, his face contorted in a spasm of pain. “Argh. It hurts. Sh**. F***. Those b******s. It hurts. Help me. F***ing sh**.” Peter gritted his bared teeth and reached up to the side of his head as though to feel what damage had been done, but Thomas grabbed his hand and held it away. This was far more complex than any of the ‘standard’ wounds he had been trained to treat. He pulled out his bandages and sized up which one might be able to cover the wound best, but filled with dread as he watched a dribble of pale mush ooze out of the wound mingling with the blood.85
Thomas sat down on the ground and pulled Peter onto his side, laying his head in his lap, wounded side up to minimize the loss. But he had no idea what to do.86
“Peter... Peter?”87
Peter’s face twisted then started to lose tone, relaxing and drooping toward the ground. His breathing stopped then restarted, then groaned in a half exhale, half-cough. Thomas tried to wad a bandage over the wound, but only succeeded in shifting the fluid flow around its edges. “What do I do? Peter, don’t go, help me fix you. What do I do?”88
Thomas fumbled in his medikit pack, pulled out a syringe and stabbed it into Peter’s shoulder. Then he held Peter close toward himself, with his head still resting on his legs. He stroked the back of Peter’s head and softly muttered reassurances to him, “That should help with the pain. I’ll look after you. I’m here with you Peter. You’re doing great. Well done. You’ve done so well. I’ll take you back home. You'll be alright. I’ll take you to your mum.”89
Peter’s breathing stuttered again, his features ceased changing and all movement stopped. Thomas carried on talking to him and stroking his head, holding his hand with his other free hand. 90
With every pounding beat of his heart, Thomas inched a little closer to acceptance of his friend’s death; and in turn closer to uncontrollable fury. Slowly his thoughts turned. He pictured himself taking up the rifle from his dead friend’s side and thrusting its bayonet into enemy after enemy. Killing. Murdering, not in cold blood, but hot, boiling blood. Even his vision seemed to take on a hot red hue as he wallowed in the alien feeling.91
Thomas found himself jerked back to reality. “Medic!”92
Thomas bent his face down to the remnant of Peter’s ear. “I’ll come back, but someone else needs me now.” Then he tenderly lowered Peter’s head to the ground and ran over to the next casualty.93
“Hey medic! I think I’m shot in the leg.”94
Thomas struggled to set his feelings aside and started working on the wound: cleaning, bandaging, injecting, exactly as he had been taught. As he did so, he reflected on the overwhelming anger that had consumed him just moments before. For the first time Thomas felt able to do his job. He worked quickly and efficiently. Caring and sympathy were but distant memories. Instead, the wound had become his new enemy; an enemy to be beaten into submission and defeated. Afraid of his own feelings Thomas reaffirmed his principles, never to kill another human being.95
"Is it bad?"96
"You'll live." Thomas pulled the bandage tight and held it with his teeth while he pinned it in place. He working quickly so that he could return to his friend's side.97
“Hey medic. I don’t think I know your name.”98
“Medic. Just call me Medic.”
Author notes
This is my first attempt at a war story. Any advice would be most welcome. I've re-written the ending to develop the emotional journey a bit given the initial feedback. Hopefully this works a bit better than my first draft.
I have tried writing in third-person style, with limited omniscience (some insight into character thoughts) which is alien to my normal writing. Normally it's either first person or cinematic (i.e. no mental insights).
Oh and I was hoping to make this part of a mini-series, each written in a very different style but within the same setting. One of the others in the series is my short story, Run! (Note the similarity in title...)
Enjoy!
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Comments
1 - 35 of 35
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Very well writen story. I like how you combined the internal battle of the medic with the external battle going on around him. The detachment and hatred that he experenced toward the end seemed to be to an extent the precursors for something to come. I like how you didn't give the ending an afermative close but left it open for the readers minds to continue. Very well done. Thank you for entering my contest.
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Thanks for the supportive feedback.
This story bobbled around in my head for ages before finally getting written. I started with the idea of a dehumanising story, around the two responses to "What's your name medic?" so the overall length of the story was pretty fixed from that perspective. The rest of the journey just evolved over time, but it was always about the internal effects on the Medic himself.
Best of luck with the contest.
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Howdy,
I had to read your story soon as I seen the title. I say that because I am a Medic (civilian) EMT. I noticed a few things to look at for editing:
The squad were arrayed along the (P-85) I reccomend: squad WAS arrayed
There were a few more items to check, but I notice they have been commented on below but not changed here.
On a medical note:
I liked how you handled the first injury with the arm, very believable from a medical standpoint.
However the wound above the sniper's heart would anatomically be the aortic arch. He would bleed out in less than a minute. If you describe it as more to the left or right it begins to gain believablilty from a medical standpoint. However the treatment was reasonably accurate until a needle chest decompression was possible.
I generally haven't seen anyone with their brains actually exposed that could still speak. The trauma that causes the exposure is just to great.
I enjoyed the dialog and flow of the story, that is showing good writing skills. One comment as to the flavor of the attitude between the ranks though. A universal statement exists in remote locations and the military: 'Don't piss off the cook or the medic.'
Hope this all helps on your next re-write.
. Rewarded 8
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This is another reason I should stick to the adage "write what you know" since this is nothing I actually know anything about.
Thanks for the excellent insights and the feedback.
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This was a great story. I like the way he really didn't want to kill or shoot a gun, a good portrayol of war/
A really good story and congrats on being picked for the anthology! -
This was a great story. I like the way he really didn't want to kill or shoot a gun, a good portrayol of war/
A really good story and congrats on being picked for the anthology!. Rewarded 4
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Hi
This story is being considered for inclusion in a Storywrite anthology we hope to publish. If you would like this story to be considered, please apply to this group:
http://storywrite.com/group/info/Storywrite%20Anthology%20Volume%20One?stay=1
Andy
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Very Good!
This is quite interesting and hits a spot with me. At the end of the Vietnam War I was faced with being drafted, enlisting, or going to Mexico or Canada. I didn't speak Spanish and Canada is cold and I don't like cold.
I was a conscientious objector, but my denomination, fundamental Baptists, supported the war effort. I couldn't therefore claim that as a reason not to fight. I was also a coward, I was afraid of dying. I thought about it and I stumbed on the fact that the Coast Guard was considered military service. So, I joined that branch. Many of us were peace freaks. Anyway, that's how I avoided Vietnam. What I didn't know then, is that at times of war the Coast Guard falls under the Navy. My ship was almost sent, but war was not declared as such and we didn't go.
There were some words I wasn't sure about in this story, but I assume they were correct.
This is another good story. I like it better than Barking Dog. We'll see. Only one story per author in the Anthology. One of the two may be included. They're both under consideration.
Thanks for entering Exceptional Stories To Be Published - 2.
Andy
. Rewarded 8
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Thanks Andy
Andy, your comments always hit the mark with me, but on this occasion, I find myself humbled by your words. Your magnanimity is boundless, you are too kind. And, for what it's worth, in case you felt you still might be, a coward could never write the words "I was a coward."
You have my utmost respect.
Thank you for your words. -
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Well,
I didn't run from the draft. I found a way around it without having to betray my convictions.
The Coast Guard is about saving lives and protecting the Coasts of the United States and its territories. Anyway, it did work. It keep my out of Vietnam.
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I would just leave out 'twittered'. I think the sentence reads much better that way. later on, THe medic frowned trying to recall, but the sergeant carried on - I suggest you use 'the sergeant continued'. Instead of 'The Sergeant was holing out his gun ..." how about, 'The Sergeant held out his gun ..." When using verbs, try not to use ones ending in 'ing'. Instead of the pistol jerk ing his arm, the pistol jerked his arm ... Dialogue should always be on a separate line. I'd liked to have known the medic's name earlier in the story as we only discover this much later on. Other than these few suggestions of mine, I think this is a well-written story. Just needs a bit of an edit. As I said earlier, always begin dealogue on a new line and try to avoid 'ing' verbs. I know it's difficult, but this is something which an editor recently advised me about.
. Rewarded 8
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wow this is sad but well written.
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I liked it. I liked the way he struggled with his pacifist ideals after his friend got shot.
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Why Go To War?
Having been in the service...let me offer you some suggestions on the dialogue, at least, as I hear it. In this particular case, the character being quized would not be so informal as to say "Nope!" in P8...it would definitely be: "No, sir!"
At least this was how I was led to hear it so far..in your story. Of course, it might be a more informal conversation...but...then the lead-in should prepare us for that.
Again...P16...The "nope" bothers me. Much too cavalier! He sounds like a belicose wise guy. I think I should be sympathetic towards him...but because of his attitude (as evidenced through his "nope")...I don't like him! Is this what you want?
At P23 I'm beginning to lose what's going on. Is he asking if medic wants to shoot at a target?
Then...why does medic answer with: "why?" Why what? How about "What's the point of that?"
Then does sgt's response make sense? Is this picking a fight? Does one thing warrant another? It seems a little contrived. Why is this guy being so nasty? He's talking to a MEDIC! Medic's are NOT so despised! Certainly NOT in a battle situation. Everyone knows and ACCEPTS Medics help those hurt...they DON'T and are not REQUIRED to fire a rifle (or firearm)!
Also...the medic, having undergone basic training, would have known about the safety.(on the weapon)
This sgt is too much of an idiot. Not especially believable.
The middle of P76...especially, gets extremely editorial. Too much obvious preaching. It's hitting the reader over the head. Try not to do this. It's obvious stuff. We get the point! And everyone KNOWS this stuff.
Listen...here's my feeling on this:
Your writing is fine. The form, style, voice and consistency are all fine. Very literate. Intelligent form and vocabulary.
What disturbs me is the credibility of the whole business. It is very difficult to write about something with which you are not THOROUGHLY familiar. Frequently when you find yourself actually immersed in a situation you have only once imagined, surprisingly you discover it to be quite different. Such is the case, MOST CERTAINLY in military situations. It's NOT like TV or the movies with few exceptions. And...if it IS...it lamentably comes off as cliche. So...unless you are IN such a situation or have been in one...why bother with this venue? Why not try to make your point in some other way? Furthermore, this "conscientious objection" stuff..."who is the real enemy" stuff...and "distancing one's self from idealism" stuff... and duty vs. reality vs. idealism" stuff is overdone. It's not easy to handle it in a new, fresh and interesting, exciting way. I think you are, admirably perhaps, biting off a lot. I would start slow...more modestly, choose a less complex theme. Mankind and literature has been struggling with this one for a long, long time. Still unresolved. My formula: Write about what you know...what truly, personally, deeply, affects YOU!
Again, you did a pretty nice job...well written and you are obviously a thoughtful, gifted individual. But this is a monumental theme to handle. AND...what's worse...it's been done...NAKED and the DEAD...PLATOON...FULL METAL JACKET...etc. to name just a few and some of the best. Why bother anymore? Mankind is going to screw things up anyhow!
Good luck...
GA
. Rewarded 8
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Thanks for the thorough and very complete commentary. It is very much appreciated.
While I have never served in the military, a friend of mine was drafted and chose to serve as a medic. His best friend did indeed die in his arms in the front line. While I have no idea of the details, the image of this (imagined by me) moment has haunted me since (about ten years now). So, I have thought about it plenty, albeit not experienced it.
I agree that it has been done to death, but I had a ghost to exorcise in the exercise.
Again, I appreciate your time and effort in making such detailed commentary. Thank you very much.
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That was great. It was very interesting and it held my intention well. what's a copse? I'll probly look it up laters, but that was teh nly thing that confused me. you captured the cruelty of some people perfectly. YOu did an excellent job with this story
Keep writing!~.~
. Rewarded 6
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Thank you for the review and applause.
A copse is an English word (as in, from England, as opposed to used around the English speaking world) meaning a small cluster of trees. Smaller than a wood or forest.
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This was very good, it kind of reminded me of Band Of Brothers and COMBAT!/ without the evil lieutenant though. lol.
You did an excellent job with this!! WONDERFUL!!
. Rewarded 4
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I don't know either Band of Brothers or Combat! so you have me at a loss. Thanks for the high praise.
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I write war stories, and i think you might have drawn some ideas of of Band of Brothers, but oh well. well written, hope you write more. the last line was perfect. "Medic, Just call me Medic"
. Rewarded 4
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I've never seen Band of Brothers so I'm not sure what to make of the comparison. Can you recommend one of your war stories for me to review in return?
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This is short - but I really really felt it. It's NOT cliche, and I'm very impressed. Thank you for the read, it was very worth it, let me tell you, I feel like I learned something. Not something in my mind - maybe in my heart you could say? Thumbs up.
. Rewarded 4
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Oh thanks. Not sure what you learned, but I'm glad you liked the read.
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Hee hee, you said twilit. I love that word.
I pictured WWII myself. It was the copse of trees and the stone wall that did it. Nam doesn't bring up images of only a copse of trees, but jungles instead, and the walls I imagine there are of bamboo. Your story reminded me of Saving Private Ryan.
I'm not sure the training to be a medic in your war would be so brief as to leave the medics feeling completely inadequate to the task of large wounds, but I'm sure if your war is large enough, the medic school would crank out medics as fast as they could and chuck them into the war regardless of their mental readiness. And anyway, you had your character deal with the situation well and come to grips with his issues.
Honestly, I more than half expected your medic to give his friend Peter a bit too much morphine, accidentally-on-purpose, and let him slip away peacefully. Leaking grey stuff doesn't sound like it's gonna have a positive outcome there, and I suppose, back to the medic training thing, they've have taught him to assess whether a soldier is worth patching up or not, with injuries like that.
Pardon my ramble. Ahem.
Your story was very very well written. I seriously had no issues with spelling, punctuation, grammar, etc. I applaud your attention to those details. Your story flowed like chocolate silk through my brain, and before I knew it I was at the end. Only the details I mentioned above, plot details, caught my eye even just a little bit.
I liked the irony of the practice shot setting off an accidental firefight. Typical.
Really, really well done.
. Rewarded 8
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Thank you very much for the excellent review and thorough explanation of your reading of this story. It is very much appreciated.
I didn't have a particular conflict in mind. Instead, I imagined my own homeland (the UK) in a state of defensive warfare. In such an emergency, I imagined drafting would lead to corners being cut in training, hence the poor training. Besides, I don't think anyone feels prepared for a firefight, no matter how much theoretical training they've had.
The idea was that he's so attached to his friend that his judgement falters in terms of medical assessment and treatment, so he makes some inappropriate choices there.
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P 81: rota->rotation
Other than that, I like this wording a lot better. This flows a lot more, and I especially like the bit about the wounds being new enemies.
Good job!
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Thanks for the endorsement.
I meant rota. A google definition search gives (amongst other definitions):
A rota is a timetable showing when certain things are going to be done during a given period. This is cycled to the next period as a circular system of periods. A good example would be the rotas used in staff shift work or for school lesson times which normally has a weekly cycle.
There may be a better word, but I would not use rotation in this context - although others might, it wouldn't be true to my own writing style.
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Great potential
I was totally into the story through ¶ 87, then you started to lose me. You have hopelessness in 88 and acceptance of death in 89. Check out 'Stages of Grief' as it is covered, for example, in Wikipedia. It sounds like what you were really going for was Anger, Bargaining, Depression, but conventional wisdom says Thomas would get there through Denial, not Acceptance.
Finally, I'd suggest that the last sentence of ¶ 94 is not at all what he would have been thinking, as I now understand your direction in the story. Instead it might have been more like 'Patch them up and let them get back out there to kill the bastards.' That, indeed, could lead into, "Just call me medic."
Bottom line: A very good story, just needs work on the ending. -
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Would you re-review
I've re-written the ending based on your advice and would appreciate it if you could check it out and let me know whether you find it any better.
Thanks -
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Thumbs up
Great work. You've nailed it this time.
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Good observations
I could easily change the last parts of para 89 to remove the impression of acceptance ("I'll look after you and take you back to your mum" perhaps).
In para 94, I really want to keep it this way, but I could first indicate that Thomas is frightened by the experience of the angry feelings.
I'll go ahead and change both of these now.
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The plot in this is pretty good. I definately see what you're trying to do, but the whole thing... It either needs some edits or lengthening for depth. Knowing character thoughts can be fine, and I think that we could know a bit more about Thomas. You did a pretty good job, just needs a few touch-ups.
The actual facts on the war and stuff (which I'm assuming is Nam) seem okay. I don't know how much you know about that stuff but knowing more can never hurt. The start where Sarge is "Soldier this" is a little stereotypical...
Other than that, this was okay. The part where Tom wants to kill everyone doesn't transition well into the "Medic. Just Medic" part. I kind of expected him to go off, switch helmets with Peter or something and just charge madly around before figuring out what a terrible frakking plan that was. But you're story. I would put more about how it goes from "Rahh!" to sort of official and cool.
Don't take this long comment personally, I just talk a lot.
MLR -
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I've rewritten the ending based on your advice and would appreciate any comments you have on the new wording.
Thanks -
I just changed paragraphs 94 onwards. Hopefully that works out better for you. Let me know what you think.
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It's not meant to be 'Nam. It's meant to be generic, so that people can see it fitting in a number of different settings. If you've read Run! you'll see that I did something similar there, although that wasn't (at least obviously) a war story.
Just to round it out, the three stories (I haven't written the third, but it's going to be about a fighter pilot who gets shot down, is taken prisoner, then escapes) show the lives of three people in a time of war. Each of them has powerful emotional grievances against "the enemy" and one of them (unclear in the overall story arc) commits a terrible atrocity against the enemy. If you've seen American Beauty, you probably know the concept. Who's the killer. Well, they all have sufficient motive and wherewithall.
I agree with your observations on Thomas' transition. It probably needs further development and stretching out, but for the contest I wanted to keep the story line to a minimum possible amount of time (well, scenes anyway) to make a single coherent short piece. That's why I compromised on developing Peter and Thomas' friendship, and probably short-changed Thomas' thought processes in the closing lines.
The idea is that Thomas is the one man in the squad trying hard to hang on to his humanity, but in the end he's the one who loses it the hardest. I hope that came across.
Thanks for your insightful comments.
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