Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I’m going to send him to my daddy’s ranch so he can see what a steak is supposed to taste like,” Doc teased. He shot me a wink while passing me a bottle of tepid beer. “And fuck Vietnam. My dad’ll put him on horseback with the bulls during breeding season and teach him what real danger’s like, right, fellas?”
They all chanted, “Fuck Vietnam,” and clinked bottles.
We made the most of the time we had left. I got stupidly superstitious on the last few dustoff flights until Doc finally chewed my ass and called me out in the middle of a mission for being a chickenshit. I knew he was just feeling angry and resentful, but our emotions were so jacked up that by the time we closed up the bird and headed toward the mess, we were both screaming at each other and the men around us were backing away in anticipation of someone throwing a punch.
Doc’s anger reddened his face. “I’ve never once known you to back down from a failed pickup and hand it off to another crew because of live fire. Never once!”
“We already had injured men on board. We needed to get them to base.” My teeth were pressed together so tightly, I thought my jaw would ache.
“Bullshit. You were—”
“Can it, Lieutenant,” I growled, reminding him of our respective ranks.
Dial shoved at Doc’s shoulder, pushing him toward a cargo container we used for storage. “Take it behind closed doors, assholes. I for one am glad the major got us the fuck out of there before we got our asses blown off.”
I followed Doc into the dim space and closed the door until there was only a sliver of light left from the opening. It was hot and stuffy, but at least it was away from the eyes of the other men.
Doc rounded on me, his index finger coming up like he was going to poke me in the chest with it. I grabbed his wrist and held it firm, meeting his eyes.
“Stop.” My voice was low and firm.
His nostrils flared. “Write me up. I don’t care. We should have gone back for those men.”
“The other unit got them out with a gunship escort. They’re all safely back, and you know it.”
“Since when do you let another crew take our dustoff? Since when do you turn tail and run? Since when—”
“Since there was an RPG aimed right at your fucking face, Liam!” I roared.
Doc froze. His mouth hung open in shock.
I continued. “You question me like I’m a fucking cherry grunt who doesn’t know his ass from his elbow! Do you have any idea how many men I’ve rescued under live fire?”
“I know, that’s why I—”
“No, you don’t know. But when some VC asshole with a rocket-propelled grenade launcher points his weapon at my…” I swallowed. “At my medic, I’m not going to hover there like an idiot and take the hit.”
Suddenly, I had two arms full of lieutenant. Doc clung to me like a jungle leech and squeezed hard. I wrapped my arms around him and held on. We both smelled like dog shit, but I’d take Liam Wilde’s dog shit smell any day of the week.
“I don’t want you to go.” His voice was muffled by my shirt.
“Yeah,” I grunted back. Because if I said all the words I truly wanted to say, I’d choke on them and drown.
“You’re the best friend I ever had, Wes.” He pulled back and sniffed, running the back of his arm across his cheeks really quickly. “I’m going to miss you like hell.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled again before taking a step back to keep myself from grabbing his shirt and pulling him back against me. “Uh, same.”
Doc met my eyes. “I’m sorry for…” He flapped his hand back toward the Huey.
I blew out a breath and nodded. “I know you are.”
“Can we go get some chow now and maybe forget this ever happened?” The crooked grin from my dreams appeared in the dusty light. It never failed to make me smile in return.
“Not a chance. You’re my servant tonight at dinner and my beer boy at poker.” I turned and opened the door farther. “And I expect the beer to be cold.”
Doc sighed. “I’m going to have to sleep with Private Samuelson in the mess in exchange for ice, aren’t I?”
“Nah, a little blowie’ll do the trick.”
Doc’s laughter rang out as we stepped out of the storage container. “As long as you don’t speak from personal experience.”
“Hell no. That kid has VD written all over him. I heard his middle name is Boom-Boom.”
We joked the rest of the way to the mess where we joined our friends for a hot meal and thought for the thousandth time how lucky we were not to be cracking open C-rations in the field.