#11 Slow Death
Character: John Martin
He wishes for a quick end to the man’s suffering. Here standing in the cellar of the house watching Jackson suffer unceasingly from grenade fragments to the face. He can practically hear the other’s thoughts “If I go, let me go quickly.” He can’t stand the sounds of the man suffering. ‘Come on Roe! Fix him, or get him outta here’ he thinks sickly.
Looking around he notices the shifty eyes of all the other men, some stare at their hands, others look on helplessly. There’s nothing worse than a man crying out for his mother half a world away.
He and Nix stand watching the sky go from a hazy gray, to white, to pink over the town of Foy. He's sipping his hot coffee and Nix silently smokes a cigarette. He’s always been a morning person, the quiet, the stillness, only broken by the sound of small birds flying overhead. Here it’s different, there’s still the quiet, and strong coffee, but instead of birds there are 88mm’s coming toward their location.
Having Nixon stand next to him feels more home than his old farm, he memorizes this solitude he can share briefly before hell breaks out once again.
He sits trying to read the letters to Buck. He can’t tell if Buck can hear him speaking or not. Right now he’s not sure he cares. Here they are in a tent full of battered, bloody, and broken bodies. Yet both of them don’t have a scratch on their surface but look deep within their eyes and anyone could see the emotional wounds that ran deep. Both men had lost those comrades closest to them in horrific ways. Here in this tent, the doctors try to mend the broken strings on the marionettes’ and send them back to war.
There were very few people that Dick Winters hated; sure he strongly disliked some, but hate? No. That was until Herbert Sobel came into his life. He watched as Sobel tormented his men, making them run Currahee numerous times, with gear, without gear. The straw that broke his back was forcing the men to run shortly after a huge spaghetti dinner. As the men sang, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. Nothing would get in the way of these soldiers; they had bonded and hopefully will continue to forge onward, three miles up, three miles down.