Memory of the Boats

I sat on my front porch, watching the ocean and taking in the fresh salty breeze, as I had most every day since retirement. I spent most of my life on or near the water and I found starting my day watching it would always bring back memories. Some good, some bad, but all were the stories of my life. This morning was no different.

I watched, confused, as the rowboats came in; seven of them, all unmanned. I'm not a superstitious type, but there's something unnerving about seeing unmanned rowboats arrive in mass upon a beach. As was surely expected of me, I stood up and focused my full attention on the boats in the distance. Unbeknownst to me, the crew that should have been in those boats were in S.C.U.B.A. gear, circling the small island; preparing for an attack on our outpost.

As I sat on my porch, sipping my hot coffee and gazing out over the water, I let my mind wander off into the memory of that bloody day.

I remember radioing my commander, “General Offard, sir, there are some suspicious, empty, boats at our south shores… Umm, what should I do?”

There was momentary silence before his voice cracked over the radio, “Go check it out. Scope it out from a distance. Make sure there’s no one hiding in or around the boats. Keep me updated.”

As I approached the boats, gun trained on the one nearest to me, I heard a muffled shot fired from the other side of the outpost. I looked back to see the others posted on this side of the outpost running through and around the building to face the hostiles on the other side. But I didn’t run to their aid.

It would be said that I stayed out at the boats to continue searching the area for hostiles. ‘I was just following orders’ I would tell them when they debriefed me, back on the mainland. And I was. They just happened to be orders that following seemed would keep me away from the danger. Yes, my biggest motivator was fear. I was only eighteen. I thought I was tough. The Army would be a great way to see the world, I thought. At that moment, I regretted that thought. I was still only a boy.

I continued to check all the empty boats, jumping every time I heard gunshots fired or grenades exploding. Eventually I worked my way close enough to confirm the boats were indeed empty, and not trapped. It wouldn’t be until later that I realized they were the trap. They were meant to distract more of us soldiers. Not that it mattered.

Once I had finished searching the boats, I found a large bolder on the beach to hide behind. After switching my radio off, to avoid drawing any attention my way, I watched our little outpost get entirely overrun through my scope. There had to have been at least two dozen enemy soldiers, on the ready, verses the eleven remaining, unsuspecting men in that outpost. To this day I still don’t know why we were so viciously attacked. We were only a small island outpost; one of a handful in the area. Ships used our station to resupply and communicate with loved ones on the mainland. I suspect that we could have been taken prisoner or something that would have involved less death. But the enemies were soulless bastards.

Once the gunshots started to slow, I turned and ran for the west end of the island. There would be supplies that I could use to escape the island; hopefully a boat. I needed to get to them before the enemy locked down the outpost and began sweeping the island.

I ran until I could taste blood in my breath, but the scent of battle rode the breeze along side me; inspiring me to keep running.

Finally I reached the west end of the island. Just as I had suspected, I found a Zodiac tied to a small dock. We usually used it to ferry supplies to and from the different islands. It should have been brought back to the outpost, but rarely did we ever bother to do so. For once, laziness paid off.

It only took me a couple minutes to make sure I had emergency supplies and enough fuel before I sped away from the island tomb of my squad.

After about a half hour on the water, headed in what I was pretty sure was the right direction, I turned my radio back on and began trying to contact a nearby base. “S.O.S. Civilian stranded in a life raft.” I lied, again hoping to not draw undue attention from the enemy forces if they did in fact have one of our radios still on, intact and in range.

After my third call over the radio I got a response. “This is Lt. Stone. What is your situation Civilian?”

I thought fast, trying to come up with something to keep my cover. “It’s kind of an embarrassing story, but I was cooking on my boat and… Yeah, I accidentally caught my food on fire and not thinking, doused it with water. The flames were too much and I ran for the Zodiac. I’m currently located somewhere west of the Tamlin outpost island and South of the island of Binalla.”

There was a long pause on the other line, I’m sure they were laughing at me, I would have in their situation, before the voice came back over the air. “Ok, sit tight civilian, we will send a rescue crew to locate you.”

Finally feeling safe for the first time since seeing those empty boats, I turned off the engine and laid back on the bench seat and enjoyed the warmth of the sun while awaiting my rescue.

Hearing a large boat approaching I sat up. I was immediately shouted at through a bullhorn on the other boat, “Drop your weapon!” I panicked for a moment, having forgotten I was armed, then fumbled to unsling my gun from around my shoulder. I put my hands in the air.

As the rescue boat approached, three crew members kept guns trained on me. “You are not a civilian, and on a craft belonging to the U.S. Military. State your name and rank or submit to arrest.”

Crap, my lie appeared to have backfired a bit. “Uh, I-My name is Private Holms. Uh, currently deployed at the Tamlin outpost. We were attacked by enemy hostiles. I lied over the radio to not draw attention because I suspect they have our radios and I was not one hundred percent sure I was out of their radio range. Please don’t shoot.” I said, my knees shaking.

The guns stayed trained on me as the captain of the boat confirmed my personal information. After a couple minutes he called back over, “Okay Private, we’re bringing you aboard, hold tight.”

After arriving back at a base on another island, I was brought in for questioning on the situation. “At ease Private,” The General said as I saluted him. “I am General Halk. We have lost all communication with the Tamlin outpost. What can you tell me about the situation.”

I relayed all the information I had, including the number of estimated enemy hostiles, the number of empty boats that I had seen on our shore and the brutality of their tactics. “Not that it’s my place to say, sir, but I would suggest bombing the outpost. Between them killing everyone while storming the place, the amount of damage they caused and their complete lack of respect for human life. I do believe that that tactic would lead to the fewest deaths of our forces. I also doubt they will give the place up easy enough that anything will really be salvageable.” I paused. “At least that’s the way I see it, sir.”

General Halk nodded gravely. “You might be right Private. I’ll pass your opinions to the higher ups when we decide on the next course of action. I’ll be sending in another officer to get your full report.” With little ceremony he left the room.

I spent the next couple hours going over my report with other officers from the base before they shipped me back to the mainland. I remember vividly the news reports the next day, the images of the U.S. Air Force bombing the hell out of east half of Tamlin Island. At the time I felt a sense of pride in knowing that my report most likely led to those barbarians being blasted off that rock. I felt relieved that the situation was over. More than anything though, I felt vindicated.

My reverie complete, and my coffee mug empty, I got up off the chair on my front porch and walked back inside, shaking my head. I may have felt good about the situation at the time but the memories of all of my fallen comrades and the realization that we responded with the same animosity, and took even more lives, never stopped haunting me.

Word Count: 1520