Sunrise Over Fallujah by Walter Dean Myers Page B

dead. But it had all happened so quickly. One moment he was alive and he was scared, as I was scared with him and for him. And then he was dead. I had never been that close to anyone who was killed. I had heard the boy talking, had seen his dark eyes darting around the room. Then I saw his body jerking in the dusty street, as if he had already been separated from it. I wanted not to think.
    Marla was back up in the gunner’s turret and I headed back to the Humvee.
    â€œYo, Marla, how you doing?” I asked.
    â€œIf you see a bus schedule for Dix Hills, Long Island, save it for me,” she said. “I’m ready to leave this mother.”
    â€œTell me about it.”
    We weren’t going home, of course. We were still wandering northward toward Baghdad. We weren’t at the front of the action and I was glad of that, but there was enough going on where we were to keep us on our toes.
    â€œWho’s supposed to be the bad guys here?” Jonesy asked as he slipped behind the wheel of the Humvee. “We got people standing around looking like civilians one minute and then the next they’re pulling heat from their closets.”
    What I wanted, more than anything else, was to go to bed. I felt more tired than I could imagine, as if my very bones were drainedof marrow. Captain Coles came over and said that we were chang ing direction. He seemed jumpy, too. Darcy was with him.
    â€œWhere we going?” Jonesy asked.
    â€œThe 204 th Medical called asking for some help south of An Najaf,” Coles said. “That’s about a hundred and some miles northeast of here. There was some heavy fighting and the Infantry suffered a number of wounded and a half-dozen KIAs. Their medical unit is dealing with the infantry and the worst of the wounded Iraqis. They want us to deal with some of the minor wounds of the Iraqis.”
    â€œWe going to do it?” I asked, instantly knowing that we would.
    Coles looked at me, then pivoted sharply and walked away.
    The medical team attached to us consisted of two physician’s assistants, one male and one female, and two technicians. They seemed okay, dedicated really, and they worked well with the Iraqi women and kids. They hauled along a trailer behind their Humvee, and I watched as they loaded up.
    â€œWe’re moving too fast,” Marla said. “How the heck can we fly past these villages and just leave them as if they’re not Iraqis and we’re not invading their country?”
    â€œI bet this all looks good on paper,” Jonesy said.
    I asked Marla if she wanted me to take a turn on the squad gun.
    â€œDon’t get careless,” she answered. She took a drink from her water bottle and swallowed hard.
    My throat was dry, too. The water was warm but it felt good in my mouth as I settled down behind the machine gun. I shook myshoulders to loosen up. I wasn’t afraid when we were moving. It was a different feeling when we were out of the vehicle and roaming around the villages.
    Second squad, with Ahmed along to interpret, was going to lead the way with the medical team next, and then us. The whole route was supposed to be under control of the 3 rd . I could only hope it was. Our little convoy of four vehicles took off. Darcy popped up in the Two Squad gun position and waved. Jonesy measured the distance in time between vehicles and eased onto the open road.
    I felt vulnerable in the turret, as if every gun had an eye on the end of it that was looking for me. I felt ashamed of what I was thinking.
    I wanted my mind on the road and what was happening around me. I turned sideways, trying to see if anything was coming behind me. I kept the gun sights moving along the building lines. We passed one low building with tables and chairs and men eating and drinking. They pointed at us as we passed, and when I pointed the gun at them, one of them opened his shirt as if to dare me to fire at him.
    I reminded myself of my mission in