Chapter Two

          I awoke back in hell. I'd forgotten where I was, and I was terrified beyond belief before finally remembering. Grabbing my rifle, I started to crawl back to base, which was just up the hill, each movement sending an immense agony tearing through my body. I knew I couldn't fight anymore.
          I crawled as fast as I could, stopping only to catch my breath or momentarily ease my pain now and then. Fear consumed me. I'd never been shot before, and definitely not four times. Was I going to end up like Douglass and Andrews?
          My heart twisted in pain. My wounds stung and burned. My mind raced, and everything blurred together where I couldn't remember anything anymore. My vision fell in and out of focus.
          "Hey! Corporal Jackson! Get over here!" I heard someone yell amidst the erupting gunfire. I looked up to see a tall, brown-haired man motioning me toward him. "Now! Move!"  he ordered.
          I crawled over to him as fast as I could.  "Yes sir?" I asked upon seeing his sergeant rank.
          "How many times have you been hit?"
          "Three or four times, I think, sir." I couldn't actually remember now.
          "You okay?"
          What a question to ask right now! "Well, I'm alive," I said, not wanting to disrespect with the intense sarcasm I felt that question deserved.
          "You look like hell."
          "Well, thank you, sir."
          "No, seriously. I'm taking you back to base."
          "No, thank you, sir. I can make it myself," I protested. I'd never been one to ask for help.
          "You won't," he said matter-of-factly. He helped me up despite my objections and weak struggle, then started to carry me back to base.
          "How did you know my name?" I asked, as I had never seen the man before in my life.
          "Doesn't matter," he said quickly, then added, "I really admire your dedication and valor back there, Jackson. Don't ever give up."
          "Yes sir," I said quietly.
          Suddenly he stumbled, but managed to keep going. A bullet had struck him in the heart. He should have died instantly, but it hardly phased him. He wasn't even bleeding! He kept going as if nothing had happened.
          Fear coursed through my veins.
          "You... you just got shot!" I managed to stutter.
          "Yeah. So?"
          "So? You should be dead after getting shot like that!" I yelled, my voice high with terror. "Do you even feel anything?"
          "No."
          I stared up at him and noticed an odd, ghostly glow about him, like perhaps he was an angel. "Who are you?" I whispered.
          "Sergeant John Gray."
          I had never heard of him before.
          "What platoon are you in?"
          He didn't answer.
          Arriving at the base, he set me down gently on the ground. By now I was doing all I could to stay conscious.
          "You'll be alright," he told me.
          I nodded as best I could. "Thanks for saving my life," I managed.
          "Anytime," the sergeant replied. He called for a corpsman, then stood to leave.
          "Hey!" I called. "Where are you going?"
          "To save another man's life," he answered. He smiled and waved, and before I could say anything else, he was gone. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.
          I turned my head to see several corpsmen come running toward me. A captain stood nearby, looking dazed as he stared off into the distance where the sergeant had gone, looking pale and terrified, as if he had just seen a ghost.
          The doctors picked me up to move me. I screamed and cried. The pain hurt so bad that I fell unconscious again.