Another mortar hit about 20 yards behind him. They’re getting closer. Dobson thought, crawling away from the Lieutenant’s body. He kept his head down, below the gunfire.

He made out Sergeant Hobbs a few feet away. He headed that way, dragging his med-pack behind him on a tether.

“You’re in charge, Sarge!” he yelled. “LT’s gone!” The Sergeant paused momentarily

Swanson was lyng on his back, clutching a wound in his chest. Several, in fact. Machine gun.

“There’s nothing I can do for him, Sarge.” The medic yelled, jamming a morphine shot into his thigh.

“This’ll help, Tom” he said as soothingly as possible, considering the noise. But Tom’s attention was somewhere else. He was looking straight up. “Sorry, man.”

He moved off to a group of four or five soldiers a few yards off, hoping not to find anything to do there.

Another mortar round impacted, shaking the ground. Dobson continued to crawl.

He stopped.

The last thing he heard was the deafening impact of the mortar that killed him.