“First of all, let me start by saying, when we refer to your unit as elite, we are using that term loosely. About as loose as it can get! I want everyone shoulder to shoulder! Hold your heads up and show a little pride for Christ sakes! Believe it or not you represent the United States military!” Sargeant Al Carson bellowed. He looked at the five out of shape disgruntled National Guardsmen and shook his head in disgust. A few of them chuckled when Sgt. Carson mentioned that they represented the United States military.
As the Sargeant slowly began to walk in front of each of them, raindrops began to fall from the sky. Everyone groaned while a couple of them looked up at the sky as if that would alter the weather. Sargeant Carlson looked up at the sky as well, but his reaction was much different than the others.
“This is perfect! I couldn’t ask for a better situation! A little rain never hurt anyone! I have briefed your leader, Corporal Ford, here, about the mission. Time is a factor so he will be leading you off into the wild when I am done speaking to you. Three days is all you have to reach the checkpoint and accomplish the goals of the operative. If any of you have any questions, ask your leader! He is the man who has the map, and he is also the man who will be giving the orders! Am I making myself fairly clear? See you in three days!” Sargeant Carlson turned around and ran towards the jeep that was running, his assistant at the wheel.
“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Carlson shouted as he ducked into the jeep. The men watched as they drove off into the incoming rain.
“Where the hell is he going?” Private Roger Nixon asked.
“ Looks like he’s going home,” Private Ralph Franklin muttered.
“Somewhere where he ain’t getting wet like us,” Private Mick Hardesty said as he pulled his rain poncho over his head as the rain began to intensify.
“So, where the hell are we going? Never mind where the hell Sargeant Al Carson is going! Break out the map!” Nixon shouted through the steady rain.
“Of course, it had to rain the minute we step foot out here!” Private Jeff Humphries complained to nobody in particular.
“Take out the goddamn map!” Nixon shouted even louder, his voice carrying through the strengthening winds.
“OK Hold on!” Corporal Douglas Ford, platoon leader cried as he reached into his already soaked backpack. Everyone watched as their leader wrestled with the map which somehow got stuck in the corner of his backpack. He pulled it too hard, causing it to rip in half. A strong gust of wind came out of nowhere and blew the map right out of the Corporal’s hands.
“NO!” Private Franklin shrieked.
“Get the map!” Nixon and Ford both cried in the driving rain.
The lumbering Private Ralph Franklin trudged through the mud and the rain in a valiant effort to reclaim their map which was twisting in the wind on its way to the unknown. Franklin refused to let this happen. As he trudged through the mud, the rest of his unit just stood and watched.
Suddenly, Private Franklin, who seemed to be closing in on the map, which was stuck on the side of a tree, began to sink into the mud. He started to frantically wave his hands and cry for help.
“Don’t move so much Ralph! You’re stuck in quicksand!” Private Humphries warned.
“Quicksand?” Ralph screamed as he began to wave his hands again despite being told by every single one of the members of his platoon.
“Ralph!” The others cried in unison as they stood still and watched their fellow guardsmen disappear underneath the murky quicksand.
“Well, that’s just great!” Nixon shouted, his aggravation and budding anger on full display.
“Now y’all just calm down! Take it easy, Nixon!’ Corporal Ford shouted, his voice already starting to crack from the stress of what had just happened.
“Take it easy? Really? Do you have another copy of the map perhaps? If you pull another one out of your bag right now and don’t let is slip through your hands like the last one, then I will take it easy!” Nixon bellowed; his face streaked with muddy raindrops.
“Dude, are you drunk?” Private Humphries asked.
“What? Drunk? Yeah! I’m drunk! Is that our biggest problem right now?” Nixon growled.
“You do smell like booze,” Private Hardesty mentioned out loud.
“Let’s focus on getting out of the rain and figure out which way we have to go,” Corporal Ford ordered. The rest of the men reluctantly agreed. Ford led them through the marsh, urging everyone to find a place to camp for the night.
“You didn’t even look at the map before you let it slip away?” Private Hardesty asked.
Ford just trudged on, declining to answer the question. Hardesty chuckled to himself since he already knew. The rain eventually subsided, and they found a clearing where they unpacked their gear for the evening.
The night came and everyone was exhausted. Soon the group was asleep. However, it wouldn’t last very long. A loud gunshot ripped through the night followed by a loud splash accompanied by a slew of profanity. The profanity quickly turned into blood curdling screams and more splashing. Private Hardesty was the first one to his feet. While the others were slowly awakening, Hardesty was on the move, heading in the direction of the light ahead that was pointed to the moon.
Eventually Corporal Ford awakened from his slumber. Yawning as he scratched the back of his head, he walked up to Private Hardesty who was returning with a report of what had happened.
“We lost Nixon,” Hardesty informed Ford and Humphries.
“What do you mean we lost him?” Corporal Ford asked. His face took on a sinister aura as he glared at Hardesty and Humphries through the haze of his lit flashlight.
“It looks like he took a shot at an alligator and slipped. I saw a part of his foot but that got eaten before I could examine it,” Hardesty explained.
“You saw him get eaten?” Humphries asked.
“Well, I saw his foot get eaten. But at that point it wasn’t that hard to figure out what happened to Nixon,” Hardesty answered in an indifferent tone.
“Jesus, you act like you see people getting eaten in front of you by alligators on a regular basis!” Private Humphries said.
“Who gives a shit? Nothing we can do now. The sun is coming up soon! Let’s pack all this shit up, grab all Nixon’s shit and get moving. Hardesty, why don’t you grab Nixon’s shit,” Ford ordered.
Hardesty walked over and shone his flashlight in the area around Nixon’s sleeping bag. Empty nip bottles of Jack Daniels could be seen under the flickering beam of Hardesty’s flashlight.
“Told you he was drinking!” Humphries exclaimed.
“He drinks every time he comes. He thinks this is time away from his wife so he says he can drink and doesn’t give a shit who knows. That was like 5 trips ago. He hasn’t said shit since but it’s obvious he is still drinking,” Hardesty explained as he shone the light on the bottles that were visible.
They quickly broke down their camp and had everything packed and ready to go by the time the sun was making its appearance. Hardesty and Humphries both looked at each other without saying a word. Hardesty nodded and turned to Ford who was adjusting his backpack.
“You have no idea where the hell you’re going do you?” Humphries asked their platoon leader as he shot both men a nasty glare.
“Of course, I know where we’re going!” Corporal Ford exclaimed as he adjusted his backpack for another time.
“I disagree! Mick and I have been talking, and we are positive that we know the right way,” Humphries informed the platoon leader.
“How the hell do you know which way to go?” Ford asked, looking very interested in response.
“Because it is the opposite of where you’re going!” Humphries exclaimed.
“Alright! That’s it! You two can go whatever way you want! When I get back to camp before you two, I’ll be sure to tell Carlson that both of you disobeyed my orders!” Ford shot them a disapproving glance like a mother who caught her boys in the cookie jar after they had been told not to several times.
“Good! Who gives a shit? We’ll probably find him first anyway! Anything you want me to tell him for you?” Humphries asked over his shoulder as he followed the much larger Private Hardesty.
“Yeah! Tell him to start proceedings for dishonorable discharges for both of you when he gets back to the base!” Ford cried.
“That will be the first thing I tell him! Don’t worry!” Humphries started to cackle loudly.
Hardesty and Humphries were moving quickly in the opposite direction of their stubborn platoon leader. As they trudged through the brush, Hardesty turned to Humphries. “Do you think we should have gone with him?”
“No! So, all three us can get lost?” Humphries asked.
Before Hardesty could answer his fellow guardsmen, they heard a very familiar voice ring out through the air. They both turned and looked in opposite directions, both of them unsure who was calling them.
“Hardesty! Humphries!” Sargeant Carlson boomed.
“Sargeant! What the hell are you doing here?” Humphries asked as he approached his commander.
“This is the checkpoint! Where the hell is Ford and the other two?” Carlson asked as he peered around Hardesty to make sure that nobody was overshadowed by his huge frame.
“What do you mean this is the checkpoint?” Humphries asked as he looked at Hardesty who just shrugged his shoulders.
“Wait a minute! Who has the map? Where the hell is your platoon leader?” Carlson asked, his tone became more agitated with each passing second.
“It’s a long story. We’ll tell you after we go to the bathroom and get changed,” Humphries said out of the corner of his mouth as he walked past the surprised Sargeant.
“What the hell took you guys so long? It was supposed to be a short trip! The checkpoint was not even two miles away! Since you guys were our elite unit, we figured this would be a piece of cake and we could all go home early!” Carlson explained as the two tired privates just stared back at him, speechless.