I feel a hand on my shoulder and I immediately look for my gun. It's by my pack where I left it when I was looking for the first -aid kit. I wrench my shoulder out from underneath the hand that was holding me and stand up. I turn on my heel and look into the light blue eyes of a man I have never seen before. The first thing I notice on his uniform is the aAmerican flag displayed on his upper right arm.
As he looks at me he yells, "Medic!"
Another soldier comes hustling over. He has the uniform of a medic with the red cross in plain view. The medic starts to come towards me once he sees me. I take a step back and shake my head as I point over to Tommy.
I tell the medic, "Help Tommy! Save Tommy!"
The medic glances at Tommy, then looks at me with sombere brown eyes. Heand says to me, "He's gone kid. There's nothing I can do to save him now." Then everything comes flooding back until I feel as though I am being drowned in my own memories. I remember going through basic training with him. The six months of hell that we went through together. The 3:00 a.m wake up calls. The obstacle courses in the pouring rain. The drop -offs in the middle of nowhere. The being eaten alive by insects. The all -night training sessions. I slowly back up until my back hits the bulky tree. The tree where everything started, even if it started less than an hour ago. My body slides down it of its own accord. I can't think. I can't breathe. I can't believe it. Tommy couldn't be dead. I had just played a game of blackjack with him the night before. I had just woken up above his bunk 8eight hours ago. I had just cleaned my gun right next to him as he sang some lousy folk song of his. No, Tommy couldn't be dead.