Pathfinder

By Lola Carlile

He trudged to the edge of the densely plant-filled forest only to find a

crevice that would hide him for a temporary stay. He tentatively brushed away the
broken shards of tree bark, bits of animal fur, and stagnant leaves. He furtively
placed his entire body within the trench and finally closed his eyes. He could
still hear offensive sounds in the distance and attempted to stop his breath; it
was so loud.
Would they find him buried here and still alive? Or would his spirit give up and
his essence float away? His tiredness was one he had never experienced and one
that hurt in areas he wasn’t aware could feel anything anymore. The bloodied,
bandaged leg was wobbly and sometimes shot out without his will.
Breathing in felt as if tiny corpuscles were trapping the air in fear it would
leave again. Breathing out was more difficult. He might cry out in plaintive
wails if he weren’t careful. Control. Staying in control. That’s what got him so
far….
It was stifling hot lying there in full combat regalia. He had forgotten his
backpack many yards and eons ago. It didn’t matter much. He needed sustenance and
sleep, mostly sleep. As he started to enter the sublime pillow of sleep, he
vaguely heard something foreign. He knew what it meant, but he couldn’t rouse
himself long enough to register the slanted eyes and rough touch….
****
He hadn’t planned on entering the service at all. He was mighty happy working at
the bank, going to junior college, and living at home. This war that everyone was
talking about didn’t seem to matter much to this teenager just barely
matriculating into adult life. The worst fear he had would be that his father
would find out that he had sponsored a party for the bank at their home while the
parents were out.

Mom and Dad had just pulled up as he trudged out with the last load of beer
bottles and paper plates crusted over with something akin to a chip and dip plate.
No suspicions. Good. He was a good boy, went to church, and generally pleased his
family. The fourth of seven kids, he was neither the older privileged or the
younger spoiled, but he was different. He saw things in a different way and
understood life to a degree none of them could. Even the teachers saw that he was
different and needed support. Dad didn’t think he should be put up a grade. He was
no different. They were all alike. His litter of seven. Clean little pups. All
treated the same, or so ole’ Dad thought.
But he inadvertently found a way to garner attention. Simple ways. Ways like being
too skinny and not eating to his Mom’s satisfaction. Varying trips to the doctor
only proved that he needed to eat more. He wasn’t sick. He was just way too
skinny. So while his dog ate his green beans on the floor, he was indulged with
banana bread with no nuts as requested. Although the family was poor and money was
tight, he was allowed extra glasses of milk.
Then something on the other side of the globe uprooted his entirely satisfying
world and college, the bank, and home disappeared. At first, he thought he could
use his wits to control his destiny. The Army came calling first and he high-
tailed it to the Air Force. They examined him, prodded him, talked with him, and
tested him. A fine specimen. They promised a soft assignment, far away from the
gooks in Asia.
Italy was wonderfully sunny and rustic and the females were so very enticing in
their sometimes too tight tops and short pants or skirts. He felt validated in his
choice. The Force had solemnly kept their promise.
At least for a few months. Then he found himself on an airplane headed there. The
place that was in constant uproar and a place most young men didn’t fathom as a
temporary home. Some went albeit roaring drunk with raucous actions, ready to
plunder and emit all the testosterone they could. Others vacuously begged off with
complaints of gender identification or idle complaints of disease. He had done
neither. Now the plane would land and the third chapter of his adult life would
begin.
Before they landed he spied a mystical fog hovering over beautiful trees. It was a
mesmerizing sight and one that made him feel as if he were visiting Disneyland and
riding the tram over the entire façade once again as he had as a young boy. It was
as if his uncle were guiding him to get out of the tram and go on a ride. Some
ride it turned out to be….

As the aged transport C57 careened to a stop on the short airstrip, he noticed the
change in scenery as well as the stifling air. He had never breathed in such heavy
air, the scent of which almost made him pass out. The others on the plane weren’t
ready for this party either. He didn’t know what was worse – the tittering of the
plane or the deep unforgiving dive of the landing. He grabbed his stiff olive
backpack and stood up slightly dizzy and quickly headed for the nearest exit.
Whoa! Wait a minute. That tarmac sure looked hot. He was sweating profusely as he
waited for the rest of the team to line up. This felt like grade school, but it
surely wasn’t a field trip – this was war and he was in the midst of it. His heart
pounded so loudly he felt it was ready to explode. Tiny beads of perspiration
trickled down his forehead. It was time to boogie.
The signal was given and the group ran to the long steel barracks. No time to look
at the surroundings, nor any time to perceive a feeling of liking this place or
not. Just running to a tin can and shutting the door. What was next? Over three
million tons of bombs had been dropped on Vietnam by 1968 and public opinion was
increasingly negative, especially on college campuses.

He was just a kid – barely 20, not old enough to order a beer, but old
enough to shoot someone. Damn. He stood in line to get supplies he would need on
his reconnaissance flights. He was one of the lucky ones. ‘Cause he was smart.
Put into intelligence. He hoped that would be in some captain’s office,
intercepting the mail or something mundane like that.
“Son, here’s your gun.” He didn’t know anything about guns. Never had one. Never
wanted one.
“I don’t want a gun. I won’t shoot anyone.”
The burly supply sergeant heaved a heavy sigh. He looked at the frail young man
who looked like he should still be in high school.
“Look son, I have to give you a gun. It says so in the orders. But nowhere, and I
repeat, nowhere, does it say I have to give you bullets.”
He took the gun. He would never remember the color, the size, or any details about
it. It was just a gun. Worn to warn others that he had strength and might. It
would be the first thing he would lose. He didn’t think about anything other than
his country needed him and he was scared shitless.
Later on, they rounded up the newbies and gave them an orientation. Don’t eat
outside the base. You’ll get sick, especially if you eat from stands off the
street. He ate on base and became violently ill. From that time on, he made it a
point to eat off the street vendors goods. Never sick from that time on….
On his rare days off, he ventured downtown and liked what he saw. Beautiful women
– all willing to be his girlfriend. So many that his ideas of going to war weren’t
all that stressful at times. Or, if they were, the tender caresses of a female
took all that pain away. He was determined to make these people see Americans as
kind and loving. He was successful in that part. The girls’ parents liked him and
he immensely enjoyed getting to know the culture. At one point he even considered
leaving the service and becoming a monk. His spiritual growth was immense. He was
seeing the world for what it was and wanted to meditate to a higher level.
His first flight was exciting and excruciating at the same time. The pilot tried
to maintain an aura of lightheartedness. After all, they weren’t killing machines.
They were intelligence – they just helped ward off the bad guys with words. The
wide-bodied mass of steel swooped down suddenly. The code operator puked and held
his head. The navigator shouted, “Don’t worry. We’re alright. Take some deep
breaths.”
Under his breath he muttered to the white-faced pilot, “Shit, what the hell was
that?”

“Enemy fire – too close!” exclaimed the pilot.

“Damn, you’re good,” closed the navigator as they both watched another plane that
didn’t fare as well. They weren’t close enough to see ejecting bodies, but the
shards that fell to the earth with fire could have been men escaping. They would
never know as they turned quickly and returned to home base.
He just held his breath and said a Hail Mary for all of them. He couldn’t wait to
get back on the ground and off base for a good dose of lovin’.

****

Hardly any human actually recognizes the last day of their life. They don’t wake
up and think, “Today I am gonna die.” Except maybe for some criminal who is being
put to death. But the rest of the suckers have to be surprised. And he was.
As he lay in the crevice barely hearing the strange sounds and movements, he heard
a loud crashing sound. His pain disappeared and a strange whiteness filled his
head. He felt a liquid surround him and he was a bit confused.
He felt light and felt something pulling him higher and higher. As he floated
upwards, his essence – his soul – his very being – noticed that his body was still
in the crevice. The blood was all over the dirt. He didn’t even recognize his
face. It wasn’t a face at all. He didn’t look back. He kept rising to wherever
those who fought a good fight go and he didn’t look back. He had found his path.