Jungle Jitters

Jungle Jitters

by Bradley Davidson

“Do it for your father.” The old sergeant said as they both lay in the jungle foliage of a small island in the Pacific.

“No”, came the reply from the kid followed by an awkward silence. “I’ll do it for my country.”

That’s the spirit, the sergeant thought to himself. Do it for something. Just do it. Then after a few more moments the kid spoke again.

“And the guys. I’ll do it for my country and my buddies here.” After another pause he continued, “And my family, including my father, of course, and my dog, Sparky. And all the folks at home. I’ll do it for all of them.”

“You know”, the sergeant moaned, “You should have stopped after the first sentence then taken off up this hill. I mean, geez, someone’s got to do it. I would except for this bullet in my leg. You just have to do it. I mean, The Duke would never ramble on like that. A quick, inspired quip and he would be off. Do it for your country and go.”

There was a meditative pause.

“I miss him”, the kid muttered.

“Who? Your father?”

“No, my dog.

“Aww, Geez.”

“You think this is some movie?” The kid challenged. “You think I want to race up that hill dodging the bullets and take out that machine gun nest and be a hero. Heck no. I don’t want to be here. I don’t know why I am. So many turns in life and forks in the road, and I took the ones that led here. This isn’t a movie. This is too surreal to be a movie. This is like a bad dream. I got nothing against those guys up there, kids like me, except that they are shooting at us. I don’t want to kill them. I just want them to stop.”

“Well, then run up the hill and tell them to stop and that we would really appreciate their cooperation. You know that isn’t going to happen. So go up there and blow them to smithereens. Otherwise we are all gonna die.”

“Aw cripes! I suppose you’re right. I was just trying to get my more-than-probable last words organized, who I’m doing this for and all that. Why did you say my father, anyway?”

“Isn’t he a big World War I hero? Just thought you would want to follow in his footsteps, make him proud. But I can see I was wrong.”

“No, no, you’re right. I’ll do it for dear old dad. But I’m doing it for everyone else, too, including Sparky.”

His body tensed in preparation to sprint up the hill and take out the gunners who had his whole platoon pinned down. He was in the right place to do it. Those turns and forks and prior life decisions had put him in the right place at the right time to do the right thing. He was ready. He was going.

“Wait!” the sergeant yelled.

“What?”

“Listen”

He stopped and listened and heard… nothing. There was just silence. No wind blowing. No birds chirping. No machine gun fire. Just dead silence as if the war had exhausted the earth and the sky.

The enemy had run out of bullets.

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