Between Insanity and Madness. (Chapter 18- The forgiving God)

'We'll be going in single line formation. I'll be in front, the Lieutenant behind me. The rest of ya' can organise it any kind of way you wanna'.' The words were said quietly by Sergeant Joseph Larsen, who had taken the patrol aside and briefed them. The Lieutenant had never done anything like this before so he stood back and left it all to Sergeant Larsen. He was using a lot of hand movement to go with the firm voice, the drenched face he had illustrated he wasn't happy about the Lieutenant coming along with them. The man had never fired a weapon before and he felt that he could object but it would be ignored. 1

The men organised themselves into a line, they abandoned their 'Jet sacks', their duffle bags and any heavy equipment. Each men, except the Lieutenant was required to take three grenades, three magazines of thirty rounds in each, their rifle and wear their webbing.2

'Why you got a sub-machine gun on you Private?' The Sergeant asked inquisitively. He'd heard that Hayden Smith had somehow haggled a weapon off someone, somewhere from the transport ship. He just didn't know that Hayden would be flashing it about so publicly. 3

'Sergeant, the L85 in jungle conditions doesn't work properly. I've already been gettin' rust on mine. So I thought it was only right I had a back-up.' Hayden blabbed out the truth. It was stinging to some of the men, who knew how bad and ineffective the L85 could be in humid, wet conditions. 4

No one had amazingly had the courage to say anything about the rust that was starting to form on every soldier’s weapon. Three times a day they had to clean their weapons, to battle back the rust, the specks of brown-orange appearing out of nowhere, jumping out from the grass, delivered by the climate to sabotage a man and his gun. The metal working parts, which include the hammer and the gas pistons, were especially vulnerable and neither of them were advisable to let rust; since the hammer helped propel the bullet and the gas piston sent it on its way. It was becoming an issue the government or NATO weren’t willing to talk about. They said replacing the weapons wouldn't be cost effective, but how do you measure money against the life of a human? No one could understand the mass patting of the back of military Generals when their soldiers were this poorly equipped; especially an elite force as the Airborne.5

'Ok Private, I understand.' He ended the questioning there and Hayden felt relieved. He knew the Sergeant could understand why he managed to get himself another weapon, especially when it was only Warrant rank and above that had secondary weapons. In truth, Larsen had witnessed his weapon deteriorate and could only pray that nothing went wrong with it if he needed it now. 6

'Right then girls,' he managed a smile before he continued, 'lock up and load, scouting mission will start in five minutes.' He examined everyone's faces, necks and hands and saw that their camouflage was fading, streaks of flesh was starting to break out between the green's, brown's and black's. 'I'd also tell you to put some more camo on. We don't know what we'll be walking into.'7

He was right, they didn't. Anything could be down in that village. It didn't help that the Captain was refusing to take the whole Company down there and swarm the place, he obviously thought it looked too good to be true and needed investigating; so here they all were, six men were going to check the village out and kill any of the enemy, if any were there that is. They hadn't showed up at all the last couple of days and instead had focused on the other elements of the invasion force.8

Michael Foley sat down next to Hayden, who was just putting the finishing touches to the warrior paint he'd put on his face, neck, hands and ears. He was currently smothering his hands in the brown mix, then streaking black and green along them. 9

'Hayden, you think you'll need to use that?' Foley asked, pointing at the sub-machine gun, which had a magazine already clipped into place and was ready to be used, currently on the floor not being pointed at anyone.10

'Yeah, I do actually.' Foley looked at Hayden and saw a man who was ready for battle, who had wanted to get this over and done with. Thing is though, Hayden himself was dreading it. All a damn show, because no one knew what to expect; would it be like the previous five days or would it be the first engagement for the Battalion on the mysterious, wretched island called Borneo?11

'Once that first bullet flies past your head Foley, you sure as hell won't be wondering if you'll be using your weapon or not.' Ryan was quickly lubricating his with some 'OMD 20' as it read on the small bottle of lubricating oil and liquids. It was standard issue and given to every soldier who went to the jungle to fight. It was supposedly used to combat rust, but Ryan hadn't seen it work on anyone's rifles let alone his own. He continued, 'your mind will be thinking one thing, your body will be too bust killin'.' With that Foley sauntered off, fed up of all this talk of death. 12

What am I doing here if I'm so frightened to die?13

Lieutenant Roger Clapham had given his first aid kit to one of the Corporal Medics on his platoon, so that they had more supplies if needed, if indeed, as he feared; he might not be coming back. He was sure this would be his last day on earth, he wasn't sure why, but he had that hungry feeling inside his stomach that forced him to think so morbidly, to be so uneasy with himself. Why did he put his hand up to go on patrol? He didn't even know why himself! It drove him mad, he punched his helmet which rang throughout his ears and shook his cranium slightly, in self anger and self castration of a stupid and folly idea. 14

He spotted Sergeant Larsen watching him, a people watcher if ever there was one; Larsen deciphered people, their weaknesses, their personalities and their strengths by watching them intently. He didn't care if people knew he was doing it, he didn't care if he made them feel uncomfortable; he was just preparing himself for what could be the first engagement he'd been in since the massacre of Budapest.15

That night, Sergeant Larsen had witnessed mass destruction and death on a scale he'd never seen and hoped he'd never see in his life. Three days of fighting, parachuting into a city that was well defended, well armed, prepared and ready. It was as disastrous as Operation Market Garden all those years ago in the Second World War. How could anyone justify what had gone on that night? The bodies piled up in a crude pyramid fashion of civilians who dared help out and tend the wounds of allied soldiers, the men he'd known for years and fought alongside in previous operations, lying on the floor, their arms or legs missing, their heads with dry blood stuck on them, their helmets shattered. What justification did war have when it did this to people? He wondered all the time about that night, he knew that Ryan Garten, who was just six feet away from him in the small grassy, tropical clearance they were in; also had nightmares.16

Ryan noticed that Sergeant Larsen was thinking to himself, drifting into his own little dreamland, drifting and happily doing so. He had finished cleaning his rifle, the cocking handle made a loud, slick noise as metal greeted metal in the most deadly of ways, a sign to come for man and beast.17

Ryan had often chided himself for not opening up about what he thought on Budapest, how he had to kill his own friend, never to be able to tell anyone. His friend was a Russian spy, had given the enemy plans and information on the Operation and how in his last moments, it was one of them that had to die. David had been staunch in his support of Russia that final time they met, when Ryan found him emptying those plywood drawers of files that Russia had wanted to be burned in case they came into the wrong hands.18

He scratched his head in thought and nearly caused a cut on his forehead where he'd been scratching too hard. If they hadn't kept it quiet, he'd been awarded all sorts of decorations, would have been given a battlefield commission, a posting of his choosing, maybe Kasey and the kids would have stayed with him, instead of that damned letter that informed him of divorce proceedings. 19

He kept that letter in his trouser pocket. He could still smell home on that letter, even though it'd been all over the world with him.20

Sergeant Larsen came out with something, he didn't know where it came from but it was directed at Ryan, who didn't turn around and reply, but carried on adjusting the sling on his rifle. 'I ain't no man of faith Ryan.'21

'I know you ain't.' Ryan smiled to himself, his back still facing the Sergeant, he could hear fear in the Sergeant's voice, were they both afraid of what might happen? Did they both have those same, dark feelings at night? The inability to make love without seeing those dead faces haunt your imagination, to inability to be true to yourself, slowly decaying under the roof that was falling apart; riddled with self doubt and holes.22

'If I die though, I wanna' know that I'm forgiven for whatever I've done...' He gasped as the humidity stuck to the back of his throat. He could feel some tears forming, so Joseph Larsen quickly wiped them without anyone knowing. 'Can that happen?'23

'God forgives everyone Sergeant.' Ryan replied with a stone-faced look.24

'Even those that murder and rape?' 25

'God forgives anyone who is willing to forgive himself Sergeant. You take the first step and then he'll hold your hand as you take walk up the rest.' 26

'But you haven't forgiven yourself either have you?' The Sergeant knew this and Ryan knew this. They were talking about Budapest but in a round-about way, so people around them didn't know how messed up they truly were. Ryan stopped to think about Sergeant had said, it penetrated his thoughts. His weakness had been found and exploited by the people-watcher; Sergeant Joseph Larsen of 'Alpha' Company.27

Oh how I wish for you to be the last thing I ever saw, to be the last thing I ever touched, to never see what I see, to never have to feel what I can, the shivers in me, the chills that run down my neck. I stay alive because I can feel the love; feel mine now.28

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