Windward Review Volume 19 (2021): Empathy and Entropy

didn’t have enough water to spare. You can’t imagine the heat there sir. A day without
water and you’d be a goner. So, my LT gave us the nod.”
“Bullshit.”
“Turn around, sir,” I said, all gentility in my voice gone, “Do what I say this
time. Just, just, turn around and we’ll leave together.”
“No, I want no part of this, and you will obey my orders, Sergeant. Or have
you decided that listening to a commissioned officer’s orders is only a formality too?”
Milani was stressed. This was his first firefight, and it wasn’t the kind that any
man should have as his first. Hell, I don’t think anyone should ever have to see combat
like that. We were both young, but experience divided us in the same way years would
in the normal world. That’s why Sergeants existed in the first place. Senior riflemen
that advised officers and kept them on the right path.
Situations like this was where he needed a guiding hand, but he was pushing
it away. All for what? Moral superiority? This was war, and good men needed to do
bad things to survive. Someone had failed in teaching him that, and now I was caught
holding the bag.
I let out a sigh, attempting to bury the hatchet one last time, “Fine, we’ll deal
with that later. I’ll go outside to get the men. We’ve still got a shitload more of these
bunkers to clear out.”
“No, Sanderson, you’re done. I am ordering you to stand down, and if you
don’t…” Milani said, and that’s when he made a fatal mistake; he raised his weapon at
me.
Things had been quiet before this for the US Army. Italy was done and
dusted, and Africa was practically ancient history. Problems had arisen with soldiers,
particularly new officers, lacking combat experience training alongside us veterans in
Britain. The problems varied, but the two most potent had been lack of understanding
and lack of situational awareness. Milani displayed both in that moment, as he was
pointing a weapon at me. A weapon, that he had forgotten to reload amidst the carnage
of the trench clearing. He probably didn’t even notice its’ action was snapped
back.
What happened next was something I regret being forced to do. Milani, by
his naivety, stood alongside the Germans as people who would ensure “Red from shipping
and receiving” kept up his activities with my wife. I couldn’t have that. I wouldn’t.
Maybe if we hadn’t been in such a tight spot, I could have talked him out of it. He was
simply scared, after all. But I did not have the time. If I didn’t make a play, I would
never see my family again. Five murder charges just about guaranteed that by either
a prison sentence or a firing squad.
“Nothing personal, sir,” I said while raising my own weapon.
Milani looked surprised that I had resisted his supposed unimpeachable authority,
“What?”
The LT squeezed his trigger first, I’ll never forget that. I let him, just to be
sure he would. His Thompson let out a dry click. When his gaze returned to my own,
his eyes were wide in fear. His mouth started to move like he was trying to say something.
It might have been “please”, but I wasn’t sure. My own weapon silenced his
pleading with a barrage of slugs into his chest. He fell like any German or Italian man
I had killed. It was anticlimactic, considering the circumstances.
Carnage still raged as I approached Milani. Blood poured over from his lips
almost immediately, and I knew I did some serious damage to his internals. Time felt
out of synch in that moment as I drifted over to his body. I had to be sure he wasn’t
going to get back up. Closing my eyes, I reloaded, then ripped off another burst.
When my own weapon announced it was empty, there wasn’t much left of the once
handsome Lieutenant’s skull. Nobody walked away from that.
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Empathy / Entropy