Bury the Pity [Andrew]

[Ben Shirley]

Country: Africa

Time: Around noon

Weather Conditions: Very Hot, ruins where the battle of Gazala and Bir Hachiem took place.

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The heat of the sun was beating down on to the the little grains of sand, making it look like fists of invisible forces were mashing flour in the little power. Ben stood in the midst of the battlefield, the wire all torn up and destroyed from the grenade the German officer threw.

"I will get revenge, I will send that bastard to hell," thought Ben in his mind as he walked across the savage plain, he saw the bullet marks and scars, he saw and remembered the daring faces of his soldiers and those that opposed him.

Ben licked his lips in a circular motion but more slowly then usual, the little specks of sweat tickled his forehead as he squinted his eyes, trying to get a better view of the horizon that touched the sky and the earth.

A old friend of Ben came strolling by, with his cap a little tilted to the side as he walked in big strides, trying to reach Ben as quick as possible as the sun was showing no mercy, making everyone show signs of dehydration quickly.

"Hey Ben, what the hell are we here for?" said a young man with facial hair that showed in a few spots.

Ben turned his attention to the voice of his good old friend, Joseph Shirley. Ben rose a brow at him, crossing his arms and licking his lips in a circular motion. Ben then wiped the sweat off his forehead, with a quick flick of his wrist and then dried it off by using the little clean spot on his rag that he carried around.

"Answer me damn it!" said Joseph as he grew more and more irritated, probably because of the pounding heat.

"Look young man, don't give me that little crap that you give me all the time. You know why we are here, so shut the hell up and get to work. I am not leaving a man that died to protect his country and his family without giving them a proper burial. Now move your ass!" said Ben as his cheerful personality had just vanished, being replaced with a more serious, strict side that Ben had.

"Grr...." mumbled Joseph as he walked off in to the opposite direction, leaving Ben by himself once again as he looked in to the sky and admired the time he has with the world. Ben checked out the trench and everything else the Germans were occupying during the time of the battle. The trenches were filled with dry mud and felt a little bit cold.

"Where is this kid? He said he would join up with me," thought Ben as he turned around, walking towards his current squad and looking at the preparations and supplies they had. Ben planned to do things right, but he had to wait for the jerk to come.

[Andrew J. Ryan]

Ryan picked at his uniform uneasily, weary of the scalding sun overhead. The growing heat of the unforgiving desert made it a vicious battlefield for both mind and body. The truck traversed the open desert uneasily, practically flipping onto its side every time it hit a bump. The metal of the door almost seared the Sergeant Major's skin as he laid on his hand on the outside of the truck. In response, Ryan only grunted and took a deeper drag on the cigar held firmly between his lips. He was conditioning himself for this new battlefield in order to survive its harsh conditions.

Early that morning, they had received an urgent radio transmission of lone squad of soldiers retreating from their position in a farmhouse. The Allies had pushed through Rommel's lines with some success at first, but ever since had been rapidly losing left and right. They were spread thin and squads were pulling back left and right. The 3ID had sent out a single truck in order to transport the stranded infantry squad back to safety, where the Allied forces would reform to fight an advancing Afrika Korps.

Sergeant Major Ryan had volunteered to lead the "rescue" operation with nothing but a driver and two medics in order to assess the front line. He hadn't seen combat in weeks and was thirsty for some sort of excitement be it a battle or making a report for the brass about the struggle at the front lines. The truck kicked up sand as it made its way across the desert, a few specks appearing off in the distance. Ryan counted only about a handful of men approaching from the horizon, pinning it as Shirley's boys.

The truck slowed to a near stop as they made their approach in case they were wrong and didn't want to arouse suspicion until they were absolutely certain that American boys were off in the distance. The driver, relieved to see that the soldiers were friendly, slowed the truck to a halt next to a makeshift grave the boys were digging. Ryan kicked open the door and stepped foot onto the fiery sand that made up the desert. He spotted the Junior NCO off in the distance, talking to another young soldier, before turning around to spot the truck.

"Kid? Is that how you were taught to address superiors, Corporal Shirley? You will learn to hold your tongue," Ryan muttered without a sign of emotion in his voice. He was always calm and collected, even under fire. It wasn't his job to scold the men, but relay officer's orders in words they would understand. Sergeant Majors were just serious by nature serving as the Senior NCO and adjutant to officers. Ryan wiped the sweat from his forehead before getting down to business. It was clear that he was now in charge. "I'm here to assess the situation and get your men back to safety. What can you tell me of the front lines, Corporal?"

[Ben Shirley]

Ben sat on a skinny but hard and strong rock that was a shiny brown, in the middle of the barren land as he waited for something or someone to pass by. A few birds were flying above, making CAWW noises as they kept circling the little group of soldiers that were awaiting some kind of miracle, still grieving over their defeat at the battle grounds that laid in the distance a few miles away.

Ben took out his combat knife, flipping it over and over as he caught it with his left hand and then juggling it to the right, aiming his fingers carefully so that his index finger and thumb grab the non edgy part of the blade. Ben did this for several minutes until he saw something in the distance. There was dust and sand flying high in to the high, as if it was trailing something. Ben shoved his hand inside his jacket, searching for a black binocular that he had hidden.

"Hey Joseph! The dude is here," said Ben as he looked through his binoculars and saw a green ambulance car sped across the plains of the desert barren Africa, quickly getting closer and closer to the position of Ben and his men.

"What? pass me that damn thing," said Joseph as he snatched the binoculars out of Ben's hands, then putting the them close to his eyes. Joseph looked in to the distance, now noticing the car getting closer than ever. The car stopped and out came a man that was about in his thirties.

Ben turned his attention to the mouth of the officer, as he heard words coming out of it.

"Nah Sergeant, won't happen again I promise," said Ben to apologize to the man. Ben took a breath, wiping the sweat from off his forehead with the quick flick of his index finger, sending the sweat fall to the ground as a droplet, then soon drying up in a matter of seconds.

"The battle was in our favor in the beginning, a few shots were exchanged, the enemy made headway and position them selves behind those rocks," said Ben as he pointed to a group of boulders before continuing." They blew up the wire with a grenade, making a space about 6 feet wide. Then, they moved in for a assault but we tried the best we could to weaken the force before they got to our two men in the trench, Jacob Swizz Smith and Mack Swizz. They were outnumbered and got killed easily. We took the body of Mack Swizz over here to bury his body so he could rest in piece," finished Ben as he saw Kevin and George slacking off, so Ben turned his attention quickly to them.

"Stop slacking off men! Get that grave finished!" shouted Ben as Kevin and George got scared, soon digging at double the speed they were digging before. Ben looked at the Sergeant, not familiar with him as he was new to the Division.

"So Sergeant, whats your name? I am new to the Division, Ben Shirley is the name. Want a smoke?" said Ben as he opened a little pocket from the left side of his green jacket, taking out a black box that was filled with cigarettes. Ben took out the lighter that was in the case, he then used his thumb to make the lighter do a SNAP noise, letting out a little orange and yellow flame that lit up the cigarette. Ben took a extra cigarette out, offering one to the Sergeant to join him in the smoking session under the heat of the African sun.

[Andrew J. Ryan]

The African-American was quick to apologize for his disrespectful attitude, promising it would never happen again. Strangely, the Corporal continued the disrespect by calling him a Sergeant. "It's Sergeant Major and you will address me as such, Corporal," Ryan grunted. If this man couldn't even get his superiors ranks right, how could you trust him to fight in a battle. He may have even proven the latter in his recent failure. Perhaps, it was because of his color after all. Ryan had been brain washed to believe that blacks were a terrible race ever since he was born. But, he hardly believed the crap that was shoved down his throat as he had never seen any evidence of such... hopefully Shirley didn't show "evidence".

As the Corporal began to explain how the battle was fought, he pointed off into the distance as if they stood on the battlefield. The sun must be driving him insane which would explain his unruly attitude and delusions. Ryan's brows furrowed as he followed Shirley's pointing finger towards the distance where was...nothing but sand. He grimaced at the prospect of a crazed African-American running around getting his men killed and destroying any segregation within the army.

Shirley summed the battle up rather...early. The Germans had merely gotten throw the barbed wire and killed two men in a trench...and he had retreated? Now, he was certain he would be writing about this in the reports. He would have to take something up with his superiors about properly training soldiers to fight in the desert. It would be devastating to have a man with his brains practically fried leading valuable men into combat. Perhaps, this is why their offensive into Rommel's lines had been thwarted. Rommel was a brilliant tactician and most likely wary of the desert's affects on his men.

Continuing with the incorrect rank calling, Shirley asked to know his name. It was unnerving that this man hadn't learned his Sergeant Major's name yet, or that he was trying to act like they were buddies. Not wanting to cause any srife between himself and one of the Junior NCOs of his platoon, he merely responded, "Sergeant Major Ryan." That was a good enough answer for the Corporal and all he needed to know. His brows raised once more as Shirley decided to offer him a cigarette...when he was already smoking a cigar. Ryan shrugged off the incompetence once more and shook his head before taking a drag from his cigar.

Wrapping his right index and middle finger around the cigar, he removed it from his mouth. "Have your men finish with the grave and paying proper respects to the fallen," Ryan gave his orders to the Corporal. Hopefully, he would straighten out the disrespect. Walking over to the grave, he looked down at the dead man and gave a slight nod of the head. Dying for his country, the ultimate sacrifice. He worked his way over back to the transport truck (not an ambulance, wouldn't be able to transport a squad) and climbed into the back, where the two medics awaited him. He made sure nobody would be able to hear and informed the men have possible heat stroke or any other related diseases. He wanted his men to be cared for. Jumping back out of the back of the truck, he made his way around to the passenger seat and watched over the digging progress.

[Ben Shirley]

Ben looked back at Sargeant Major Andrew J. Ryan as he had a strange look on his face, as he said something about calling him a Sergeant.

"Sorry Sir, I am new to the American Division and I am not familiar with the American ranks. Those British ranks are what is in my head, I will try to familiarize with them and find my place in the army," said Ben trying to reassure the higher ranking officer that he didn't want to start off bad with him like the time with Nicholas Ealing.

Ben looked at Sergeant Major Andrew J. Ryan's face as he continued with explaining the battle and saw the look on his face once again. Ben turned around and looked to where he was pointing his finger. He saw nothing and now was completely confused to what he was trying to say and point out. He was getting heat stroke, or some kind of African heat disease that was messing up his senses of sight. Ben rubbed his face, trying to release any tension in his face and maybe get some mental relief. He then poured some water on to his hand and then wiped his face a little bit, he then took out a red little clean rag and wiped his off to make it dry.

"Sorry Sergeant Major, I feel very sick and maybe so do some of my soldiers. I wanted to add something to my battle report since I wanted to specify more on why we retreated. Once we lost the two men, they got extremely close to our trench. There remaining soldiers that were behind them came around, to the left side and out numbered us. We were very spread out due to a grenade throw and I couldn't and wouldn't be able to get to the other side since we would get shot from a close range shot," continued Ben with his report as he soon walked off towards his soldiers working on the grave. Kevin looked like he was getting tired, with him looking as if he was getting dehydrated and his movements looked sluggish.

"Kevin get out of that grave, Joseph! Get in their and help me finish this thing. I am not letting George doing it since he has a injured arm," ordered Ben as he saw his brother walk at a slow pace towards the grave and grabbing a dirty shovel from the sand floor. Joseph helped Kevin get out of the deep and steep hole that was going to be the resting place of Mack Swizz, as he laid their lifelessly waiting to be buried by his fellow soldiers.

Ben heard Ryan's question and Ben replied, "No sir, this hole was started a while ago until you arrived. We will finish it even faster with me helping. Can't let a injured soldier to work, can you get some medics to see his injuries? Me and the soldiers tried but we can't get the bullet out and all the good we have done is to stop the bleeding," said Ben as he lowered himself in to the grave slowly so he wouldn't hit the dead body of Mack Swizz. Ben worked on the grave heavily with Joseph as they worked even harder and did double the pace with their refreshed bodies. Ben moved up and down with the shovel, placing it firm in to the earths sand and dirt and then flicking it out softly so he didn't hit any unsuspecting people that were watching the work within the grave.

After a few minutes, Ben stood straight up and wiped his face off with his rag. He then jumped out with Joseph and rested for a bit but only for a few seconds. Then they both filled up the grave once again and gathered everyone from the crew. Ben thought Sergeant Majors wanted to pay respects also so he asked, "Sergeant, do you want to start off things?" said Ben who still had his face sweaty, so he wiped it off with his second rag that was in his back pocket.

[Andrew J. Ryan]

Andrew Ryan stood to the side of the truck, cigar firmly attached between his lips, as the Corporal hastily tried to explain himself. He had obviously come to the realization that he and his men may be suffering from heat stroke, due to Ryan's facial hints, and that he was unfamiliar with the American ranking system. Ryan shrugged it off, already realizing the excuses. He couldn't blame him for not wanting to start off on the wrong foot with a superior, so Ryan allowed it. If his men didn't want him to hate them, he wouldn't.

The medics had already piled out of the back of the truck in order to check up on the men for any heat-related diseases. One of them pulled aside the wounded Private and began to operate on his arm. Ryan watched slightly from the distance as Shirley joined his men with the grave digging. Normally, Ryan would help himself, but it looked as if the men were about to finish anyways. Besides, they were the ones who knew and fought alongside the man. It was good they were the ones doing the honors.

As the men climbed out from the grave with exhaustion, Ryan walked over to their side and carefully watched over them. He was almost caught off guard when the Corporal glanced up and asked if he wanted to start off the funeral. It was strange that Shirley wanted Ryan to start it off, even though the man served under him and they knew each other far better. Not wanting to be disrespectful for the deceased and his comrades, he gave a silent nod before stepping before the dead soldier.

Getting down on his knees, the Sergeant Major dug his cigar into the sand to put it out. He tossed it into one of his pockets to expose of it later, not wishing to rudely toss it next to the grave of the fallen man. A religious man, Ryan gripped his hands together and said a silent prayer for the dead man. Standing up and breaking the silence, he looked over the dead Private, contemplating what to say. "I'm sure he was a damned good soldier like each and every one of us. He died an honorable death and made the ultimate sacrifice for the country he loved. God will accept him in his kingdom of heaven... and let him have mercy on his soul. He was one of the unfortunate to have to suffer through the hell of war. May he rest in peace," he spoke clearly and thoroughly. Every fallen soldier deserved a life in heaven. He gave a brief nod at the dead man and took a step off to the side to allow the others their turn.

[Ben Shirley]

Ben was happy that the Sergeant Major was nice enough to say some kind words to Mack Swizz. Ben stood by Ryan the whole time, looking down at his fellow comrade and soldier as he laid their on his back with his eyes closed. Once Ryan was finished, all the soldiers said, "Amen."

Ben asked if he could pass in to his spot, so he got down on to his knees, with all of his brothers around him but on different sides of the grave. Before they started praying, they put their hands together and closed their eyes.

"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey, and While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet him behind the veil. Remember these wise words I have told you. We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. This experience shall challenge you and foster you more than ever. Here is a famous poem that my grandma has passed down from generation to generation,

"If tears could build a stairway,
And memories a lane,
I'd walk right up to Heaven
And bring you home again."

"Remember guys, to lose a loved one is not a punishment. Its a feeding of the mind. Embrace this and use it to fuel your journey," said Ben, as he remembered the young words from his grandma and his father, before he left to go in to war, said Ben out loud as he was trying not to cry, trying to keep his tears behind his eyes, but he just couldn't and felt worthless to cry in front of a Sergeant Major. He took out his rag and wiped his eyes and soon looked at his brothers as he waited for them to say something before he continued.

"Mack Swizz, you were a good friend and a excellent soldier as you helped me with many things. You were always out going and wanted to improve yourself for the better. He had good knowledge in medicine, but he didn't want to go through with the idea of becoming a full time medic since he liked the excitement of the front lines. I hope you rest in peace and just remember, you got a place in my heart!" said Joseph who was the most grieved, since he was the one out of the whole original squad that knew Mack and Jacob better. He was breaking apart, Ben could only watch and share his pain as everyone else.

Kevin then started quivering and began to speak slowly. " I never knew you as well as Joseph, but you one hell of a good soldier. You tried your hardest out there, You killed a Nazi for your squad and country. You stay on path and on duty, so rest in peace in heaven. Where you belong," said Kevin as he closed his eyes and put his hands together once more.

George went to the group that was around the deep grave, limping a little as the pain was unbearable in his arm. He lowered a little and got down on his left knee with his head down. He began saying his side, " I feel sorry for it had to end this way, You were a great soldier and didn't want to be left out of anything. Remember, God take God Give," finished George as he was able to keep his tears unlike the other men since he was now turning in to a hard veteran because of the scars caused from his first battle.

Ben stood up with his head still down, he then rose his head and looked left and right very slowly. His gaze met theirs of his soldiers, he then wiped off the tears from his eyes as he regained composure and calmed down.

" Come on guys, lets dig it up and head home," said Ben with a more of a commanding voice, his brown and sweaty hands grabbed a shovel from the ground. He grabbed it and then rose it on to his shoulders and walked back to the grave. He started taking the piles dirt that were on the sides of the grave, then started putting his shovel as firm as possible in to the mounds and then flinging them back in to the grave.

Joseph was still crying and so George helped him to move away from the grave so Ben and Kevin could work on it faster. Ben wondered what the Sergeant Major thought, but just kept to himself until they got home. A few hours passed and Kevin and Ben were finishing. Finally, they finished the grave and soon they all went around the grave and made the religious cross of Jesus with their hands.

"Amen," said all of the soldiers as they all moved towards the truck and awaited for it to start moving.

[Andrew J. Ryan]

Ryan took a step back from the desert grave and allowed the Corporal to succeed him. The man got down onto his knees and the rest of his soldiers got in a circle around him and grabbed hold of each others hands. They each took turns in saying their goodbyes by reading old poems, sharing old stories, or just saying how they plain out missed the dead soldier. He watched hesitantly from a distance as some of the men began to shed tears and embrace each other, grieving over their fallen comrades death. It took a toll on the Sergeant Major's heart, but the last he had cried was the day he had found his family murdered. Sadness never was an issue after that moment in his life.

As the funeral process drew to a close, Ryan grasped one of the shovels. He might as well help with the desert burial now that the men were stuck on burying the man beneath the sands he died in. For a second, he wondered if that would be what his family would want... before realizing that these men were his family. They were his brothers. An everlasting bond that could only be brought out through combat. It was a near unbreakable bond that was almost impossible to achieve in the ordinary world. But out here on the battlefields, the man next to you was the closet thing to family you had. And you put your life in his hands as he returned the favor.

The time came and the men all lifted the dead man from his position on the burning sand and placed him down gently into his grave. Jamming his shovel down into the mounds of sand gathered around the grave, Ryan tossed them over the mans cold, dead body. They worked rapidly to cover the man until finally he was six feet under and buried in the crushing force of sand. As Ryan patted the sand down with his shovel, he wondered if the soldiers true family would ever see him again. Probably not. The sand would shift and hide the location of the grave. At the same time, it would beat down onto the man until layers upon layers formed up on his body. Swizz would be lost forever.

Ryan leaned the shovel over his right shoulder and lead the squad towards the rear of the truck. They tossed the shovels, that were usually meant for foxhole digging, into the back of the truck. Some of the sand shook lose in chunks and gathered on the truck bed. Pulling himself up into the rear of the truck first, he grabbed hold of the next mans arm and helped pull him in. Although, usually a simple movement... the process of getting into the back of the truck with pounds of equipment, exhaustion, and the sun beating down on you turned into a harrowing feat. He patted each man on the back once he pulled them on board and allowed them to rest for the first time in hours.

As he pulled the last man in, the medics began a thorough examination of the men. The wounded soldiers received must of the attention. Instead of hopping out and heading to the front of the truck, Ryan moved through the back of the truck and tapped on the metal area where the driver sat. Immediately, the truck's engine roared to life and made a quick U-turn before speeding off through the desert. Ryan plopped down onto one of the seating rows and tore his helmet off his head. He brushed the sweat from his hair with his hand, before leaning back for some relaxation.

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod Post

CP:
Ben: 7CP

Andrew: 8CP


~Dan