Assuming they won this. Assuming there weren’t more wounded before it was over.
Matt fired a few more times, sure he didn’t hit anything, then dropped down and toggled his radio. “We’ve got wounded, Abrams.”
The private swore. “Hold tight, we’ll be there in five. Stabilize them until then. Have you eliminated the enemy?”
“Getting there. Just a sec.” Matt toggled off the radio, moved a few feet along the emplacement, and popped up enough to see. The firefight was still going strong, but it looked as if they’d taken out over half the enemy. Those who remained had found better cover among the tree trunks and deadfall and were pinned down, returning fire where they could. He reported that in.
While he was on the radio one of the blockhead scouts abruptly threw away his weapon, calling “Surrender! Surrender!” over and over from his hiding place. The next few moments were chaotic as more of the enemy threw away their weapons, calling their own surrenders in an unfamiliar language. Others kept firing, while some ran.
Matt opened his mouth to tell his squad to cease fire, at least until they could decide what the blockheads still fighting planned to do. A lot of his people had already paused, so most of the shooting was coming from the other side.
Before he could give the order two shots rang out in swift succession from beside him. One hit an enemy soldier who’d jumped up to toss aside his weapon, and the other the unlucky man’s nearby companion who tried to bolt down the slope a few seconds later.
“Cease fire!” Matt bellowed. Then, remembering the first battle in the canyon, he leaned over and yanked the rifle out of Pete’s hands. Just in case his friend decided to disobey his order or “take too long” to obey it.
The young man swore and turned to glare at him. “What was that for?”
Matt didn’t have time for that right now. The rest of the squad had stopped firing, and seeing it the rest of the blockheads were throwing away their weapons and standing with their hands raised. Matt stood as well, cautious for any sign of a hidden weapon or other deception as he addressed the soldiers. “We accept your surrender! Come out into the open and gather up so we know where you all are!”
The only response was blank stares. It looked like none of the blockheads spoke English, aside from the word “surrender” itself. Matt repeated himself and communicated with gestures, and the enemy soldiers hesitantly started towards a more open area in the aspen grove, gathering together as directed.
“Gutierrez, take everyone but Mitchell and Eddy and go secure them.” The former soldier nodded and began calling orders, making his way down from the emplacement towards the nine blockheads below with his rifle held steady on them. Others followed, most making directly for the weapons that had been tossed aside to secure them.
As they left Matt hurried over to where Mitchell lay clutching at his neck. Dark red blood oozed between his fingers. But judging by the fact that he was still alive and it wasn’t spraying everywhere, Matt was fairly sure it hadn’t hit an artery. Eddy was kneeling over his friend, looking frantic but unable to do anything to help.
Matt wasn’t sure what he could do, either. He probably should’ve paid more attention to what Terry, April, and Sam were doing in the clinic, all those times he’d been around visiting his wife or seeing to a sick or injured friend. But he hadn’t, and that was on him.
He slung his weapon and Pete’s over his shoulder, then reached into a pocket on his combat vest and pulled out the small first aid kit there. There was gauze and antiseptic ointment inside, as well as a bottle of liquid bandage spray, butterfly bandages, rolls of cloth bandaging, and a small hand-squeezed water sprayer for irrigating wounds.
Matt decided to start out with the gauze until someone who knew what they were doing showed up. He doused it in the ointment, then had Mitchell move his hand long enough to press it on. “Hold it there,” he ordered. The wounded man nodded, dazed, but held the gauze on tight.
Pete had followed him over, hovering nearby as he worked. “Can I have my gun back?” he demanded.
Matt hesitated, then straightened, looking over at where his people were collecting the weapons and binding the surrendered enemy soldiers. He supposed now he did have time for this. He just wasn’t too eager to address it.
But he had to. He grabbed his friend and pulled him away a short distance. “You shot a soldier who was surrendering, then a running man in the back.”
Pete shrugged. “So? They’ve probably done the same to innocent Americans dozens of times.” Matt didn’t respond other than to stare at him steadily, and the young man’s anger ratcheted up a notch. “Why are you on a high horse, Matt? You were first in line to congratulate Lewis, when he came by with the news about slitting a bunch of blockhead throats and lobbing firebombs in at them as they slept.”
His friend’s casual disregard for what he’d done floored Matt for a second. Pete wasn’t even trying to pretend he’d mistaken the enemy movements as threatening or anything like that. “It’s not the same. Lewis wasn’t in a position where taking prisoners was an option. We are, and so we did. There are rules in war.”
“Rules?” Pete nearly shouted. “A third of the people on the planet are dead! These monsters have been tearing our country apart from one side to another, butchering everyone they find. You want to talk to me about rules? The only rule I care about is the one that says I kill every blockhead I see. I don’t feel bad about shooting those guys. At all.”
Matt leaned in closer to the young man, speaking firmly. “The rules aren’t for their sake, they’re for ours. To keep us from becoming animals like them.”
Pete looked away, sullen. “Yeah, well maybe if we were we’d be winning this war.” He held out his hand. “Give it back.”
Matt hesitated, hating this situation. He supposed he appreciated Pete’s honesty, but if the guy had at least pretended… gah, what a mess. He shook his head and gripped the straps of both rifles firmly in his hand. “I think I’ll hold onto it for a bit. Go help the others secure the prisoners.”
His friend spat off to one side. “Prisoners,” he muttered. “We can’t feed them and we have nowhere to put them. Wanna bet Davis is just going to put a bullet in all their heads once we get back to camp?” He started to walk past Matt, nearly slamming him with his shoulder.
Matt twisted and caught the young man in a firm grip, stopping him cold and turning him around so they were face to face. He didn’t like what he saw in Pete’s eyes. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “You need to stop and seriously think about, well, how you’re thinking. Get your head on straight.”
“My head’s just fine,” the young man snapped, barely in control of his temper. “If you don’t want me to shoot blockheads under certain circumstances, just tell me not to and I’ll obey your orders.” He yanked away from Matt’s hand again, stomping towards where Gutierrez was lining up the prisoners. Matt reluctantly let him go.
I shouldn’t have to tell you that, he thought. He’d ignored Pete’s issues for far too long, but he didn’t think he could anymore. The only question was what to do about it.
He put aside the matter for now and returned to Mitchell, waiting for Abrams to reach them. Before too long Gutierrez brought the prisoners up to the emplacement, sitting them down with half the squad guarding them. The former soldier had also sent Scott out to take Pete’s place at the south lookout position, in case more blockheads were on their way.