Somebody's War Story

The propellers from the helicopters were deafening in Private Barnes’ ears. It wasn't the heat that Barnes first noticed but rather the humidity that turned the air into a soggy blanket. The sound of practice gunfire, boots marching, and vehicles passing by surrounded him as he stepped off the helicopter and onto base. Barnes had little time to take in his new surroundings before Callahan lost his footing and nearly fell onto Barnes before he caught him.

“Nice going, idiot. How are you gonna survive a war if you can’t manage to step out of a fucking helicopter,” Barnes said in a half-amused, half-frustrated voice.

“Sorry, Barnes,” Callahan said in an apologetic tone.

“It’s alright, just try to avoid me when you do something stupid like that,” Barnes quipped.

“Can’t believe we actually here, Barnes,” Callahan said in a concerned voice, “Heard one in ten ain’t make it out.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Barnes said in a mocking tone. “We’re here to do a job so focus on what we trained for and not on being a bitch.”

“I ain’t no bitch,” Callahan quickly responded, “Knowin’ the odds ain’t make no one a bitch especially when I’m headin’ into this shit knowin’ I got a good chance of not makin’ it out, I say that makes me brave going into a war knowin’ I should be afraid and fightin’ anyway.”

“Yeah, whatever, just don’t go on an' get me killed,” Barnes said in a slightly amused voice, “Our orders say we’re with first battalion so let's find our captain.”

“Alright,” Callahan said.

Both men then went through the base, passing rows of tents and vehicles, a single arrangement of exercise equipment that formed an outdoor gym, and the occasional semi-permanent building fashioned from cheap materials. Outside of this military industry city was a razor wire fence that sat only a few meters from an impenetrable jungle brush that looked as though anyone who wandered into it would disappear into its darkness and never return. That's at least what Callahan thought as he got glimpses passing through the base. It was all he could think about, the dark jungle that would swallow him whole. Barnes, on the other hand, was more focused on the environment directly around him. The soldiers, trucks, tanks, they made him feel powerful and unstoppable.

“Look at all this,” Barnes said in a proud tone. “This is what I’m talking about, this is how you spread some freedom, am I right? Those Chamo communists have no idea what’s coming for 'em.”

“Yeah...yeah they got no idea what's comin’ for 'em,” Callahan said under his breath.

“What’d you say?” Barnes asked.

“Nothin’,” Callahan said.

It wasn’t long before they both arrived at where their assigned platoon was gathered. There were four tents that could each house six people. The platoon that comprised these tents numbered twenty-two. As they approached the camp, a man in camo pants and a grey tank top that read “ARMY” across the chest in black letters approached them and said, “You two my replacements for Ted and Rodriguez?”

“Yes sir!” Barnes and Callahan said while saluting.

“Jesus, at ease, you two are in my squad so don’t fuck up and get me killed. Our tent is the one over there,” he gestured toward one of the four tents behind him.

“Yes sir!” Barnes and Callahan said, now standing at ease.

As the man turned away from them Callahan asked, “Uh, so what’s your name?”

The sergeant turned around with a somewhat surprised look on his face, as he seemed to expect that his introduction was all the orientation they needed.

“You call me sergeant, that's what I am, it's who I am, and you don’t need to call me anything else.”

“Yes, sir,” Barnes and Callahan said.

The sergeant then turned away and walked off.

“You see that, Callahan?” Barnes said, “That's a soldier if I ever saw one.”

“Yeah, let's go to our tent, I wanna lay down,” Callahan responded.

“Yeah, let's go,” Barnes said.

Barnes and Callahan spent the rest of the day doing what they typically did, talk and tell jokes intermittently with Barnes flexing his education and intellect while mocking Callahan. They did this until the night came and they both went to sleep.

“GET UP WE GOT WORK!” shouted the sergeant as each member of the squad quickly moved to prepare themselves for whatever laid ahead.

“Shit, where's my helmet?” Callahan asked Barnes in a hushed tone, “I ain’t ‘member where I left it.”

“It's under your bed, you schmuck,” Barnes jabbed.

“Oh, yeah, I found it,” Callahan said with relief.

“Our job is to move out with the rest of the platoon and assist in establishing a wide defensive perimeter around this location until we need to push deeper.”

“Yes, sir!” Callahan and Barnes said along with the rest of their squad.

“Alright then, let's move,” the sergeant said as each squad member collected what they needed and moved out of their tent along with the rest of the platoon. They marched out of the base past the razor wire fence and into the dense brush. They had the saving grace of a single narrow path cut through the jungle which they followed to their objective.

“Look at this fucking place,” Barnes said, “How does anybody live here? This place is as savage as it gets.”

“It ain’t that bad,” Callahan responded.

“It ain’t that bad,” Barnes said half laughing, “Here we are walking down a goddamn footpath that these people call a road in some humid as shit weather with scorching heat and you’re gonna be over there telling me 'it ain’t that bad.'”

“I mean, it's kinda hot but it's kinda pretty too,” Callahan said.

“What the fucking hell is pretty about as jungle that wants to kill you?” Barnes asked with a half smirk on his face.

“I just feel like, I don’t know. Never mind,” Callahan said in a deflated fashion.

“Yep that's what I thought, next time you can save the genius observations about the killer jungle to yourself,” Barnes said in a joking voice.

“You’re the one that started with dat talk ‘bout the jungle,” Callahan retorted.

“Shut up, Callahan, and just walk. We got a lot of distance ahead of us,” Barnes said.

Callahan stayed silent as the two walked side by side down the narrow path ahead of them. After several hours of walking the platoon finally stopped at a clearing in the jungle.

“Alright,” the platoon lieutenant began to say, “here’s our stop. Sergeants get your men working on building a trench; we’re gonna be here awhile.”

At that moment the sergeant turned to Barnes, Callahan, and the other members of their squad and said, “Alright, you heard him, get diggin.”

Callahan and Barnes each reached for their foldable shovels attached to their rucksacks when suddenly loud popping sounds erupted from the other side of the clearing alongside bright flashes of light from the opposing tree line.

“DROP, CALLAHAN!” yelled Barnes as he grabbed Callahan and pulled them both to the ground. Both men drew their rifles and began firing toward the tree line. 

At that moment Barnes heard the lieutenant call out, “SECOND SQUAD FLANK RIGHT!”

"Second squad? Oh shit, that's us!" Barnes thought to himself.

“LETS MOVE AROUND THE RIGHT, FOLLOW ME!” the sergeant called out as their squad moved back into the tree line behind them and began moving right and around the circumference of the clearing so that they were protected in the brush. As they moved around the tree line they eventually came to the flank of their enemy. Barnes saw movement in front of him, a shade of a man, something to target. He raised his rifle, aimed and fired. Alongside him was the sergeant, Callahan, and the other members of the squad who opened fire alongside him. There was no return fire and within a few seconds all shooting fell silent. Barnes approached the shade he saw through the trees. As he walked forward he couldn't help but feel his feet drag, his stomach turn, and his heart thump faster. He pressed forward until he stood over his target. A young boy no older than eighteen lay on his back covered in blood, a rifle laying next to him. He was wearing a That '70s Show t-shirt and blue jeans.

“You alright, Barnes?” Callahan asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be,” Barnes stated.

“You just shot a guy,” Callahan said.

“I shot Chamo, an enemy. We're here to do a job and fight for freedom and this guy’s a soldier of tyranny. If—”

Barnes paused as he heard the sergeant chuckle.

“That's a real nice speech, kid,” the sergeant chucked. “If you actually believe that bullshit then you’re even more dumb than I thought. We aren’t here for freedom you dumb bastard, we’re here for oil. They really had you going with that shit in boot, didn't they? ‘Fighting for freedom’ an absolute joke unless freedom comes in oil drums. Now stop your preaching and go dig that trench.”

“Yes, sir,” Barnes said in a half-shocked manner.

Callahan and Barnes spent the next two days digging that trench and fending off small attacks from the enemy. After the trench’s completion they would remain camped in that trench for another six months, facing intermediate combat as the enemy attempted to get through their perimeter. The monotony of waiting for hours on end for a few minutes of combat would persist until the seventh month.

“Shit's fucked,” Callahan said, sitting in the trench facing downward so that the rain would stream down his helmet and onto the rest of his body, avoiding his face.

“What’d you say?” Barnes responded.

“I said, shit's fucked,” Callahan said, now lifting his head to look at Barnes.

Barnes, already looking over at Callahan from where he sat in the mud soaked trench, then gave an expression of light amusement and said, “Yeah I heard that but what’d you mean, ‘shit's fucked’? It ain't like that's some kind of meaningful statement, I mean what's the shit and why’s it fucked? Now I gotta ask questions to even understand what you’re saying. It's a waste of damn time. I mean why not just come out and say what ya goddamn mean instead of saying some vague shit to get my attention.”

“I dunno why you gotta be a damn asshole ‘bout it,” Callahan retorted, “All I wanna do is say the shit's fucked, alright? You know what the shit is and why it’s fucked, you’re just tryin' to make me feel dumb like you do. You tryin’ to show off your education like you do, thinkin' you’re better than everybody else cause you can say some smart shit. Well, I ain’t as dumb as you think, I know shit's fucked when I gotta fight over shit I can’t even eat. I mean that shit's fucked. I mean fightin’ over food makes sense, you need food or ya get hungry. But we fightin’ over shit we can’t do nothin’ with except burn. That shit's fucked.”

Barnes chuckled slightly before saying, “Yeah except burning gives the world power. You know, electricity? So you can wipe your ass in the middle of the night. Or fly a plane halfway around the planet. That shit's kind of im—”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know all that,” Callahan interjected, “But it ain’t worth my life. A plane ride ain’t worth my life. Neither are my lights or nothin’ else, and it sure as hell wasn’t worth Ted’s life, or Rodriguez’s. We out here bleedin’ and dyin’ for some’in we don’t even need to live but for some fucked reason can’t live without. Don’t make no sense to me. Shit we out here dyin’ for comfort. Well fuck, dat shit ain’t feel too comfortable in this trench.”

Barnes' face changed from his usual smirk of apathetic amusement to a stoic look before giving way to a slight grin and responding, “Yeah, shit's fucked.”

The sergeant then stood up twelve meters from where Barnes and Callahan sat and relayed the platoon’s new orders, “Listen up, we got new orders from brass that say we don’t have to sit in this—”

A loud pop erupted from the tree line as the sergeant's head snapped to one side and his body collapsed to the ground completely limp. This was followed by a cacophony of gun fire that came from all around Barnes' head. He could feel the weight of his weapon, the smoke from the guns firing around him. He knew what he had to do. He was trained for this moment and yet, he sat frozen.

“What am I doing?” Barnes thought to himself. “I’m not moving? I’m too afraid to move, I’ve never been too afraid to move. It's what Callahan said, I can’t stop thinking about it. What's the point in sticking my head out there for shit I can’t even eat?”

Then a lieutenant who made his way over to Barnes grabbed and yelled right in his ear, “FIRE THAT WEAPON OR YOU DIE!”

“I guess that's why,” Barnes thought to himself as he rose from his fear into a half bent-over stance so that his body would remain protected in the low trench before moving to the side that was toward the enemy. Barnes then raised his weapon and fired. The shooting ended just as soon as it began and the loud, chaotic sound of battle quickly turned to silence, although it was no less deafening. 

It was finally broken by the captain who crouched and said, “Our orders are to move to the well about twenty-eight kilometers from here to secure it. Get prepared, we move out in three.”

“Ain’t we gonna go after them Chamo’s,” Callahan said looking at Barnes with a look of confusion. “I mean, they got the sergeant. We can’t just let 'em get away.”

“Guess our orders are more important than hunting a bunch of Chamo’s through the jungle,” Barnes said with a somewhat distant sounding voice as he stared toward the tree line.

“Aye, you alright? I ain’t never see you like this after a fight,” Callahan asked with a concerned voice.

“Yeah...yeah I was just thinking about something,” Barnes quickly said in a quiet voice as his eyes remained fixed on the tree line ahead of him.

“Well...what was you thinkin’ bout?” Callahan asked.

“Nothing, don't worry about it,” Barnes said in a dismissive tone.

“If you say so,” Callahan responded.

The platoon then began to move, at the behest of the captain, and climbed out of the trench. The mud and rain made it quite a challenge, however soon the platoon was out of the trench and headed through the heavy brush that surrounded their location. Callahan tried to stay as close to Barnes as possible, as he usually did, while they followed the path carved out by the vanguard. The rain was oppressive as was the atmosphere that seemed to radiate from the jungle itself. Fear, death, pain, and loss were the laws of the jungle, though these were no laws of nature but of the men who now called it their battlefield. This was the feeling that hung over every man in the platoon and forced a steady silence that matched the steady pace of the platoon's march. Three hours passed without anyone saying a world until Callahan whispered to Barnes, “Hey Barnes, what was you thinkin’ ‘bout back at the trench?”

“I said it was nothing,” Barnes replied.

“Yeah, but that was for sure some’in, I mean I ain’t ever seen you that rattled you couldn't stop staring off in the distance. You also uh...took a while to uh...shoot,” Callahan said.

“You shut the fuck up, Callahan, and listen,” Barnes said in a notably aggravated tone. “I wasn’t rattled or nothing like that alright? Don’t be going around and spreading lies like that. My gun was jammed that’s all so drop this shit.”

“Sorry, Barnes, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Just…I don’t know I’m just worried ‘bout you,” Callahan said in a voice that was one part sad and another timid.

“Worried about me? What are you, a fucking woman? You should worry about yourself and how your lack of brain cells will get you killed,” Barnes said in an aggressive and mocking voice.

“Why you always putting me down like that?” Callahan asked, “I know I don’t got your education or nothin’ but I ain’t dumb, ight? And there ain’t no problem with me being worried you're just tryin’ to act tough like you do when you in a bad place,” Callahan retorted.

“Fine, you wanna know what I was thinking so bad, I’ll fucking tell you,” Barnes snapped. “I was thinking about the damn fucking Chamos.”

“What about the Chamos?” Callahan asked.

“I was thinking that this shit's fucked,” Barnes said. “I was thinking what if the Chamos are also thinking this shit's fucked too? Then it’s a guy who doesn't want to be here shooting at a guy who doesn't want to be here, so why don’t we just...stop shooting.”

“Cause Chamos won’t stop shootin’ cause you won’t stop shootin’,” Callahan said, “and you won’t stop shootin’ cause Chamos won’t stop shootin’.”

“That’s just it, truth is I didn’t shoot because I was afraid to shoot. I don’t wanna shoot and get shot over something that I don’t even care about. I don’t care about this jungle, the well, or the fucking Chamos, I just wanna go home and... do something worth while, something important,” Barnes said.

“How come you the one always tellin’ me how important this war is, ‘bout how it's for freedom and for home and such,” Callahan said.

“There isn't anything important in being some statistic,” Barnes said quietly. “Let’s stop talking now I think we’re getting close to that well.”

The well was now visible in the distance. The platoon came from the jungle highlands so they now stood above where the well was located and could see it clearly. It was surrounded by a man-made defilade of dirt, rocks, and sand bags that were all guarded by enemy forces. The lieutenant gave the order to attack and the platoon spread out and moved down toward the defenses. The approach was quiet at first with each man trying to make as little noise as possible, that was until their platoon was spotted and the familiar orchestra of ballistic death rang out across the jungle once again. Barnes and Callahan rushed forward, moving from tree to tree, firing as they ran. Around them men started screaming; smoke and dirt filled the air as grenades began to kick up massive clouds. Visibility became poor and soon all Barnes could see was smoke and muzzle flashes paired with the sounds of dying men. Fear began to creep up on him and he pushed it down with his experience and training. Aim, fire, move, aim, fire, move, aim, fire, move. This was the drum beat that Barnes followed as he charged forward. It was all he could think, hear, sense, see, until one voice stood out from the rest.

“AHHHH fuck I’m hit!” It was Callahan.

Suddenly Barnes’ mind cleared and he regained his senses. He looked around to examine his surroundings and he found to his surprise that he was past the defenses and was crouched behind a large oil well. He paused and looked to his right where Callahan, who he did not notice had followed him through the fight, was lying with his back against the well clenching his gut.

“I’m dead, Barnes. I’m dyin’.” Blood poured out of Callahan's wound as he spoke.

“No no no you're fine, Callahan, MEDIC, you're all right.” Barnes’ voice was panicked and shaking. “This isn't how you die, Callahan, you’ll be alright.” The sounds of fighting moved off and the platoon pushed deeper into the wells area.

“You think they’ll forget us, Barnes?” Callahan asked with a weak voice.

“You're doing that thing you do, just tell me what you mean,” Barnes said as his voice began to calm.

Callahan coughed and then forced out the words, “Everyone, them people back home, around the world, you think they’ll ‘member us?”

“Course they'll remember us,” Barnes said.

Callahan looked past Barnes toward the jungle behind them with a distant stare and said, “If they ‘member us then why they keep sending us here. We out here dying for comfort and no one’s life is worth some’in like that. My life ain’t worth that. The Chamos lives ain’t worth that. They gotta ‘member us Barnes else they’ll keep sendin’ us to die for shit we can’t even eat. But they can’t ‘member us cause they don’t even know our names.”

“Then someone’s gonna have to tell them our names. Someone’s gonna have to tell them our story,” Barnes said firmly.

“Who’s gonna do some’in like that?” Callahan asked.

“It doesn't matter who. It could be anybody as long as it's somebody,” Barnes said.

“Nobody can tell all our stories,” Callahan said.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be everyone's story, maybe only a few stories, maybe just our story will be enough,” Barnes said.

“Ours? Who’s gonna care about our story, we're nobodies,” Callahan said.

“Everyone’s a nobody, maybe our story will make us somebody to somebody and maybe if everyone's somebody to somebody then we’ll stop killing each other over comfort,” Barnes said.

“You really think people just knowin’ our two names is gonna change some’in?” Callahan asked.

“I don’t know, but at least someone will know my story. At least what I did here will be important to somebody,” Barnes said.

“Yeah...important....to somebody...You’re imp—” Callahan’s eyes closed and his hand fell limp from his gut.

“Callahan? Callahan? CALLAHAN?”

Barnes looked at the broken body of his dying friend and began to cry for the loss of a man who had far more to offer then he appeared, and for the needless trade of invaluable lives for things unneeded and yet desired above life itself.

Winter 2021