Heroes

(J.D.)

I peered out the window before I flung open the door. Don stood back in the shadows nervously twisting a string hanging loose on his jacket. I closed my eyes and a loud sigh escaped me. Why did he have to show up now?

Finally, I broke the silence between us and declared, “Come on in.” I motioned towards the kitchen where Richie’s dad, Charlie, sat in brokenhearted silence. He gazed up at us, and then quickly averted his eyes. I touched his shoulder and slid into the chair next to him. The kitchen looked the same as always. The once sunny, yellow walls had turned dingy and dull after years of indifference. Days of dirty dishes perched precariously in the sink, and the worn, wooden table and chairs sat neglected next to a solitary, kitchen window. It had never looked this dilapidated when I hung out here with Richie, but now it seemed so forlorn and cold.

Don stuck out his hand, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Gordon. If there’s anything you need…”

Charlie brushed his hand away. His voice broke as he whispered, “Naw. Richie knew what he was doing. He always knew he wanted to join up and be a soldier from the time he was a boy. My Richie died doing what he set out to do.”

I watched Don’s face and knew what he was thinking before the words came out of his mouth, and I didn’t want him to have a chance to spurt out his opinions. I glared at him and almost shouted, “Charlie was just about to tell me about Richie when you knocked. I’d like to know now, if you feel up to it, Charlie.”

Charlie face reflected his feelings as he stared out the window. He cleared his throat, and then uttered, “Richie did right well in boot camp…said he sailed through it without any problems. Then he got his orders.” Charlie paused and swiped at the sweat running down his face. After a while, he spoke slowly and deliberately; like he was tasting the words before they escaped his mouth. “Richie…my Richie landed in South Vietnam just ten days ago. Right away, he joined up with a team of foot soldiers headed out on patrol. I don’t know their intended destination, just that they were somewhere near the Saigon River when it happened.”

He hesitated and solemnly contemplated his next words. Finally, he spoke, “From what I’ve been told, the men were knee deep in weeds and trying to make it across a field to a shelter of trees, which stood about a hundred or so yards away from them. About halfway across the field they heard a click and everybody froze. One of the soldiers, another young kid Richie’s age, had stepped on a land mine. They all knew it, and as badly as they wanted to run away, they couldn’t leave him there to die alone. If he stayed still, the mine wouldn’t detonate. If he stayed still, the Vietcong would eventually shoot him. I can see Richie frantically trying to solve this boy’s problem. I can see him… I know how my boy’s mind works, and how he’s always trying to save others.”

My throat closed up and tears stung my eyes as Charlie continued his dreadful tale. He pushed himself up from the table and walked away from us. I could barely hear him when he finally spoke.

“My Richie figured it out. He didn’t think of the consequences…he never did. He just thought of the kid, and he did the only thing he could do. He rushed the boy, shoved him five or six feet, and then my Richie he fell… he fell right on the mine.”

“Oh dear God,” I moaned. Richie’s hastily made decision had cost him his life. I walked staggered over to Charlie and wrapped him in my arms. His sobs about broke my heart, which was already shattered over what I’d just heard.