TBD on Ning
Decisions - Pt !
It was a big fight, and bad. I walked around looking for wounded, ones that needed me now. I heard someone moaning, look around and headed towards the sound. There in a foxhole, a soldier lay, holding his stomach. Half of his face was missing. I knelt down by him and found it amazing, the soldier still lived. I moved his hands. One hand grabbed my arm. He was conscious. He whispered something....I could not make it out so I leaned forward. He whispered "Kill me, I can't take this, help me to die...." I felt his hand relax and drop away. He had died. His guts were there in plain sight. I stayed with him for a few minutes, thinking. What do you do in a case like this. A man is definitely dying, has no chance of surviving such a wound.....how long do they live, how long do you let them suffer? This poor soldier, man, wanted me to kill him. How do you kill another human being without reason. Yes, this was a war, but killing your enemy was different, it was you or him. I felt sorry for these men, and the ones who survived. They had it bad....some had no limbs, half their head blown away along with their brain, but able to live. I swear I've seen every kind of injury imaginable around here. What if this soldier was someone I knew, a buddy, brother. Could I kill him? I had to get busy, so I got up, left to check on other men. Another voice, pleading for help and I headed in that direction. Oh damn, how could this soldier still be alive. He was only half a body, yet when he looked at me, he was alert, I could tell by his eyes. He was feeling his body, what was left of it. He hands ran down his body, ran into nothing, they moved the other direction, still nothing. He looked at himself and then me. "How come I'm not dead? I should be. Oh damn, I can't live like this....kill me!. I'm an officer, I'm commanding you!"
Damn, what do I do? He took his gun out, handed it to me. I stood looking down at him, we stared at each other. I slowly lifted the gun, aimed it, fired once. I looked at him, he was dead....I could tell. I turned and slowly walked off. Another man, moaning....I started moving, looked and this one was not as bad. I checked him over, cleaned his wounds, he would make it. I heard voices, looked and there were a couple other medics, I hollered and they came over. I left them to check out the soldier, and moved on. By the time darkness hit, I had killed 3 more men. And saved a lot more. Men that would not have made it without my help. Did that justify the men I killed? I will never know.
A few days later, a couple buddies and I were having a few beers. These 2 were my brothers, closer then brothers, we had each others back, we trusted each other. I looked at each one, studying them.....and decided to tell them what I had done. Jeff told me I had done the right thing (he was a couple years older then me and had been to Nam before. Tom was quieter, he always was. He stared at me and I stared back. The he admitted he had done the same thing a few times. "Hell, they ain't going to live, and even if they did, what kind of life would they have? And if they aren't gonna make it, why waste the morphine, bandages on them...you know we run out sometimes."
We did run out of bandages, and more important, we ran out of morphine a lot. It was hell listening to those wounded men begging for something and we didn't have it to give. Jeff then admitted he had done the same thing during his last tour, admitting it was for the same reason, lack of morphine, and knowing the men were past saving.
We took our beers, got a few more and walked outside. Not a word was said...nothing needed to be said. We sat out in the darkness, listening to the night sounds, far off fighting, the sounds.
Damn, what do I do? He took his gun out, handed it to me. I stood looking down at him, we stared at each other. I slowly lifted the gun, aimed it, fired once. I looked at him, he was dead....I could tell. I turned and slowly walked off. Another man, moaning....I started moving, looked and this one was not as bad. I checked him over, cleaned his wounds, he would make it. I heard voices, looked and there were a couple other medics, I hollered and they came over. I left them to check out the soldier, and moved on. By the time darkness hit, I had killed 3 more men. And saved a lot more. Men that would not have made it without my help. Did that justify the men I killed? I will never know.
A few days later, a couple buddies and I were having a few beers. These 2 were my brothers, closer then brothers, we had each others back, we trusted each other. I looked at each one, studying them.....and decided to tell them what I had done. Jeff told me I had done the right thing (he was a couple years older then me and had been to Nam before. Tom was quieter, he always was. He stared at me and I stared back. The he admitted he had done the same thing a few times. "Hell, they ain't going to live, and even if they did, what kind of life would they have? And if they aren't gonna make it, why waste the morphine, bandages on them...you know we run out sometimes."
We did run out of bandages, and more important, we ran out of morphine a lot. It was hell listening to those wounded men begging for something and we didn't have it to give. Jeff then admitted he had done the same thing during his last tour, admitting it was for the same reason, lack of morphine, and knowing the men were past saving.
We took our beers, got a few more and walked outside. Not a word was said...nothing needed to be said. We sat out in the darkness, listening to the night sounds, far off fighting, the sounds.
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