Hometown Hero

He walked into the clinic for his volunteer shift. He was the jack of all trades when he did the volunteer work for the clinic. It seemed like they never had enough hands to go around. He’d empty the trash, restock supplies for the nurses, and occasionally do his favorite part of the gig and that was talking up the patients. He also got to learn how to heal. Granted he didn’t have the medical training so he could volunteer to treat patients, but he could volunteer and learn all he could from the doctors and the nurses. He relished the opportunity. He never knew when he decided that he wanted to help people through medicine, but just always knew that is what he was supposed to do.

Before high school he simply knew he wanted to be able to heal people. Once he was in high school, he had fantasy that he would someday be a well renown medical doctor treating patients throughout his city. Maybe he’d go to the big cities and drive the fast cars and make the big bucks being a big shot doctor, but he often thought the middle town America town that wasn’t took big and wasn’t too small was the right place for him. He wanted to do real medical work, so he didn’t want to be a small-town practitioner, but he also didn’t want the hassle of the big city life. He realized the real satisfaction came from finding a happy balance in life, sometimes meeting in the middle was the right medicine.

Perhaps there was comfort in that desire. The desire to heal people. He often wondered what his motivation was. Was his desire due to pure selfishness? He sought to bring healing to people, but why? Was it because it brought him so much joy and comfort that he sought this passion? Or was he doing it for the pure reasons of simply helping people? He was never sure why it bothered him so much, but the fact that he didn’t know his motivation was a mildly disturbing nagging that always clung in the back of his mind. He started to accept the fact that he might never know.

He was never one to brag, but he was kind of a big deal. After all he was responsible for crushing Madison in last Friday’s game. As QB he had thrown three touchdowns in the last half to seal the deal. It was always a good day when he was able to crush the competition, especially on the first big home game of the season. This brought all the accolades, and attention from his fellow classmates.

His popularity brought attention from all the girls. There wasn’t a girl in class that wouldn’t have stabbed her best friend if it meant she had the opportunity to date him. It wasn’t just that he got the good grades, that he was the high school star quarterback, or his absolutely striking good looks. It wasn’t just that he had it all, it was that he was also a genuine nice guy.

One Thursday night during his senior year, unbeknown to the students, many of his teachers actually had a two-hour conversation trying to figure out how he was still a nice guy. How had the popularity, talent, and intelligence not corrupted him? They didn’t get it. A couple teachers thought it must have been his parents, and just solid childrearing. Other teachers thought it was the girl. The adage that there’s always a good girl standing behind a good man definitely applied here.

They had started dating freshman year. Somehow it had continued to work throughout all high school, and they were positive they would get married shortly after high school ended. Being the de-facto king and queen of the school solidified their relationship and made it seem like it was just meant to be. But they didn’t have the standard superficial cliché that was so common among high school relationships. There relationship was built not on rabid teenage hormones, but a strong bond of friendship and personal respect. They genuinely cared for each other at a personal level. This mutual trust, and compassion for the others well being defined their relationship. They had a healthy amount of lust and teenage hormones, but lust was not the relationship’s foundation. They wouldn’t be married because culture dictated that was the appropriate course, they would be married because they quested to share each other’s life, together.

Naturally he had planned to move right into university after high school, the first step in his idealized version of getting into medical school. However, the conscription notice came the tail end of his senior year. The war was ramping up and they needed more men. There were options for deferments and with his grades he definitely could have gotten out of the duty to attend school. He spent many sleepless weeks tossing and turning trying to decide the right course of action. It haunted him though, that he should avoid the danger while others would go in his place. He couldn’t do it.

They spent a long night together. They embraced all night long, fearing to let go. He would ship out to be indoctrinated in the ways of war the following morning. They really didn’t know when they would see each other again, but they had this night. In the coming months he would remember this night, this very moment. He would long for her touch again, in this moment.

The preliminary training went well for him. As one might expect he excelled and accelerated through the training and became a dependable and reliable soldier. He worked hard and took pride in the work. He had always believed that putting forth a solid effort was key to success. As the preliminary training was coming to an end, there would be another series of trainings. The military service, being somehow unusually crafty, had discovered that he had volunteered at a clinic and had a rare medical acumen. In typical fashion they present it like it was an option, but there wasn’t really an option. He was off to medic training.

Naturally he could not have been more pleased with the outcome, and for the first time didn’t resent the military service that was pressed upon him. This would ultimately help him to his goal. It also brought the added benefit of giving him his natural deep satisfaction that he now knew he could help people. Life really was turning out to be grand. Who would have thought he would take such a detour and still be right on target?

Medic training was flying by and because of his previous experienced he naturally excelled in the role. This led him through an early promotion which was unusual while still in training. He had been writing frequently but casually back home, but he took the time to write multiple proper letters after the promotion. He was proud that he was getting the medical training now that would have only begun after a traditional university degree.

He was deployed to a front-line infantry group. He thought that perhaps proving himself a very skilled medic might keep him behind the line where he could help soldiers coming into the medical tents. But it was not to be, the military thought that his skill in medicine could keep more men alive in the front by quickly accessing them. The military was right of course, they were always right.

He had been in country for a week when the platoon he was attached was called up for a mission beyond the wire. It was a reported hot area, the old hands in the group joked that the new guys might just lose their virginity. There was a high expectation that there would be contact. He wasn’t sure how he felt, a sickly fear hovered over him. Yet a twisted sense of anticipation was also there. It disturbed him that he was excited, but that self-awareness didn’t change the reality. He took a couple minutes to write a note to his betrothed back home before they planned to leave.

As they marched out of base, he dropped the note off at the post facility. Naturally this spawned several retorts from the senior men in the group. He had always considered himself to be somewhat witty, but these men were relentless. He wasn’t sure how he’d earn their trust or respect, but he did know that it wasn’t going to be easy. One thing was certain, once they were beyond the wire and in enemy country, the fear was a much harsher reality.

They hadn’t gone far, barely outside what was considered controlled territory when they started climbing up the ridge. The veterans in the group started hissing orders at the new men to be cautious and stay alert. This was ridiculous of course as there wasn’t anything around here, but the FNGs shut up and put their heads on a swivel. Their targeted destination was a series of low hills about a mile away, each of which had to be topped and descended on the other side. They continued the way, slowly approached the first of the series of rolling knolls.

The group of soldiers were hunched low trying to minimize their exposure as they crested the first hill. It was many yards before they could reach the partial cover of the tree line. Complete silence permeated everything. No one dared to make even the slightest sound. He wasn’t even sure any of them were breathing, he wasn’t sure he was breathing. They had crossed half of the expanse on their way to the tree line when there was a resounding pop.

The slug took him in the throat, he didn’t have a chance. As the bullet slid through his spine, he lost motor function and listlessly collapsed. The men would later say that it appeared he melted to the ground. As he lay there, he gurgled his way out of this life, silently remembering his sweetheart.

The fire fight was slow and sporadic. The men weren’t even sure where the shot came from. A couple shouts of sniper from the veterans sent the remaining men diving for cover. Under cover and with rapid movement the senior men of the platoon recovered the body and slowly retreated out of the engagement. There were no direct orders to engage, they were simply supposed to reconnaissance and report back enemy movement. There never was a second shot, even though the platoon lived in constant expectation it was coming any moment.

The team returned to base, taking turns in groups of two or three caring their fallen comrade.

The commanding officer of the company wrote a nice letter to the family about how their son had died a hero in a heroic action fighting the enemy. A true patriot.