Sunset

Sunset1

"What do you say, guys?" Sgt. Maple looked out at the sunrise where it met the sand. "Man, ain't she a beauty!"2

Pvt. Andrews and PFC Randall had already been admiring the flattened skyline with the pink and blue paint. Yes, it was pretty, but the pink was disconcerting. Neither spoke.3

Andrews was from the midwest, Iowa, in fact, and the pink sky in morning always meant bad weather to the farmers. Nothing more special about this one other than the fact that it was far from farming country. The middle east was certainly not his idea of beauty. He suddenly wished he had drank a second cup of coffee.4

Sgt. Maple turned to look at the two. "What's with you guys? We had a good day yesterday. Didn't lose one person. Isn't that a reason to celebrate a new dawning?"5

"Hell, no!" Randall decided that it was time that he speak up. "I'm just not as optimistic as you are this morning, Sgt. Maple. Don't you realize that we lost three men the day before? Or did that escape you? I don't think I have one damned thing to be thankful for right now!"6

Maple looked at both men and wondered if it was worth an argument to say that they should be thankful for every minute that they didn't lose anyone. He remembered the day before very well. Sgt. Mulligan had died in his arms, in fact, as he screamed for a medic, his hand brilliant red with the man's blood as he applied pressure to his heart. He prayed and screamed and prayed and screamed although he knew his friend wasn't going to make it. Tears flowed from his reddened eyes onto his sunburned cheeks finding a final resting place on the left lapel of Mulligan's camoflauge shirt. Covered with sand that had been blown around with the stifling hot wind, his mouth was dry and his throat hoarse. This was the worst moment in his entire life, and he felt suddenly more angered by Randall's statement. Mulligan had become his best friend here, and now he was gone.7

"Randall, did you sit and hold your best friend while he died? Did you have his blood on your hands, and did you cry like a baby when he was finally gone? Did you hear the sucking of his blood as he tried to breathe?" Maple paused for a moment. "I didn't think so." He turned and walked away from them and went back to the operations tent.8

"Man, Randall. You just open your mouth and insert that number twelve boot, don't you! He was the wrong one to say that to. What were you thinking, Man?"9

Randall was pensive. He had, indeed, watched the entire scene play out. He didn't hold his best friend as he died; he was holding off the insurgents, hoping and praying that the medics would get to Mulligan and fix him up. He didn't want the Sergeant to die. He had always thought he was a good guy, funny and happy all the time. He could make a joke out of anything and make you laugh no matter what you felt otherwise. 10

"Yes, Andrews, I know. I guess I just couldn't get the sight of Mulligan out of my head. I guess Sgt. Maple was right." He was quite for only a few seconds and then, "I think I'll get another cup of coffee. Let's go. I'll buy."11

The two turned and walked away from the sunrise, both deep in thought and trying to find the hope that seemed to live in Sgt. Maple.12