Poem: "Marines Don't Do That"
This poem came out of the February 2023 Crowdfunding Creative Jam. It was inspired by a discussion with Dreamwidth user See_also_friend. It also fills the "Kammerite - Moral Compass" square in my 2-1-23 card for the Valentines Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by a pool with Dreamwidth user Fuzzyred. It belongs to the series Polychrome Heroics.
Warning: This poem contains canon-atypical violence and material that may disturb some readers. Highlight to read the more detailed warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes child soldiers, child harm, war crimes, assault on prisoners of war, murder of a war prisoner, reference to past combat death, fighting in the ranks, messy medical details, partially trained medic, moral injury, and other mayhem. If these are touchy topics for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before deciding whether you want to read this. It's not attached to any current threads, so skipping it won't cause a problem.
"Marines Don't Do That"
[Thursday, June 27, 2013]
The four boys they had "captured"
barely counted as soldiers, and
had probably been conscripted by
the Taliban rather than volunteering.
They were primal soups -- two dog boys,
a pig, and a hyena -- which tended
to mean cannon fodder more often
than it meant credible threat.
They were also all unarmed, and
too injured from some previous fight
to put up another one or even run away.
Lashon Frances left two of his men,
Harvey Ross and Duilio Anderson,
guarding the quartet of captives
so he could report on the capture.
Aaric Ilbert was already rummaging
in the humvee for the big first aid kit,
while Lashon reached for the radio.
Then came the sound of gunfire.
Lashon whirled and ran for his men,
but instead of the captives attacking
with hidden weapons, he found
Harvey trying to shoot them and
Duilio following Harvey's lead.
"Marines don't do that!"
Lashon barked as he
wrenched the weapon
away from Harvey.
Duilio flinched and
lowered his gun too.
"You're protecting them?"
Harvey snarled. "After
they killed Sander?"
"No, Sander Legrande
was killed by adult humans,"
Lashon said. "None of
these boys were involved."
"They're just animals, they
deserve to die like animals,"
Harvey said as he reached
for his backup handgun.
Lashon hit him in the face
with the butt of the rifle.
Harvey collapsed in the sand.
Lashon looked at Duilio, and
the younger man backed away.
"Drop your gun," Lashon said.
"Toss it away from the humvee."
Duilio tossed his gun away.
"Now grab Harvey and take
him over by the vehicle,"
Lashon said. "Stay there."
Duilio heaved Harvey onto
his shoulder and hauled
him over to the humvee.
Finally Lashon could go
check on the captives.
One of the dog boys
was clearly dead now.
He probably wasn't even
eighteen, though it was hard
to tell with half of his head gone,
and the others were younger.
A queasy lurch of guilt turned
Lashon's stomach; he really
should have been more careful.
Now the hyena, who had been
the worst wounded already, had
a fresh hole through his shoulder
or possibly his upper chest.
The surviving dog boy had
been stabbed several times,
but at least he didn't have
any new bullet holes.
The pig boy showed
multiple cuts, but they
all looked shallow in
comparison to the rest.
"Corpsman!" Lashon yelled.
They needed Aaric here
sooner rather than later.
"Here, sir," Aaric said
as he dropped down
beside the victims.
He worked fast,
patching up what
he could of the mess.
The hyena boy needed
a field hospital, though.
The dog boy probably did
too, although the pig boy
might be okay with first aid.
"I need another pair of
hands here, sir," said Aaric.
Oh yeah, it looked like
the hyena boy had gotten
in the way of a knife too.
He had a long slice across
his ribs that Lashon had to hold
so Aaric could tack it together.
Eventually the corpsman
moved on to the dog boy.
Lashon lent his hands
there too, so Aaric could
patch up the injuries.
The pig boy wasn't
as bad off, so Lashon
left him to Aaric and
went to the humvee.
"What's going to happen
to us?" Duilio asked him.
"I don't know," said Lashon.
"That's up to the CO at base.
We'll make our reports, and
let the brass sort it all out."
Well, Harvey would get
court-martialed for sure,
but Duilio might just
get demoted instead.
So Lashon called in
a quick summary of
what had happened and
asked for transport, since
the humvee couldn't carry
the soldiers as well as
the captives all at once.
Then he went back
to check on Aaric
and the primals.
"This kid will be fine,
and so will the dog boy,"
said Aaric. "Hyena's
touch and go, though."
Lashon hoped that
the hyena boy made it.
He felt guilty enough already.
The pig boy grunted as Aaric
scrubbed sand out of his injuries.
Then he looked up at Lashon
and said, "What happen us?"
Lashon sighed. This was
going to get ... messy.
"You are prisoners of war,"
he explained. "Because some
of my men committed war crimes,
you are all owed citizenship in
the United States of America.
If our actions mean you don't
want it, then America is obliged
to find you another country or
else pay different restitution."
"Also, right now you're injured,
so the first stop for everyone is
a field hospital," Aaric added.
"They'll fix you better than I can."
Aaric had joined the unit after
Sander's death, because nobody
had a trained corpsman available
so they had sent a volunteer who
was willing to learn on the job.
Aaric was learning just fine, but
he was still sensitive about that.
"Nobody can fix bullet holes with
first aid," Lashon pointed out.
"So yeah, field hospital next."
"Thank," said the pig boy. Then
he looked at the sprawled corpse.
"Him too," Aaric said. "They'll
want evidence of the murder,
but then you can decide what
to do with your friend's remains."
"Was leader," said the pig boy.
"Now Ramin." He tilted his head
to indicate the hyena boy.
"Hey, what are your names?
I can't keep calling you the pig boy,"
Lashon said. Names would help with
his report later. "I'm Lashon Frances,
and our corpsman is Aaric Ilbert."
"Javion Dehghani," the pig boy said,
pointing to himself. His hands were
oddly shaped, with two thick fingers
and a tiny stubby thumb. He pointed
to the dead boy. "Bahman Safavi."
The hyena boy earned a worried look.
"Ramin Afsoun." Finally the dog boy
was simply introduced as "Kalb."
Lashon frowned. He knew that
kalb meant "dog" in Arabic.
The others all had normal names
for Afghanistan. It made Lashon
wonder if there might be something
different about Kalb than the others.
Well, they could sort it out later.
For now he just needed to get them
to a field hospital and try to keep
the captives from freaking out.
Lashon shifted in place, awkward
and uncomfortable. His moral compass
felt like he'd gotten sand inside of it.
"Thank you for the introductions,
Javion," he said. "That will help."
"I'm all done here," Aaric said,
patting Javion's shoulder. "I'm
gonna go keep an eye on Ramin."
Javion watched them, still clearly
worried about Ramin's condition.
"On behalf of the Marine Corps,
I apologize for the violence,"
said Lashon. "That was wrong."
Javion shrugged. "Is war."
"It's a war crime," Lashon said.
"Prisoners of war are owed
decent treatment as well as
medical care if they need it.
They are not to be harmed."
"Is war," Javion repeated,
looking even more confused.
Great. They had come to
the Middle East to show folks
a better way of life, and wound up
confirming this warped view of war.
"Just ... watch what happens from
here out," Lashon said wearily.
"We'll try to show you boys how
things are supposed to go."
Maybe if he could see it through,
it'd relieve some of the wrenching guilt.
He wasn't getting his hopes up, though.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes will appear separately.
Warning: This poem contains canon-atypical violence and material that may disturb some readers. Highlight to read the more detailed warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes child soldiers, child harm, war crimes, assault on prisoners of war, murder of a war prisoner, reference to past combat death, fighting in the ranks, messy medical details, partially trained medic, moral injury, and other mayhem. If these are touchy topics for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before deciding whether you want to read this. It's not attached to any current threads, so skipping it won't cause a problem.
"Marines Don't Do That"
[Thursday, June 27, 2013]
The four boys they had "captured"
barely counted as soldiers, and
had probably been conscripted by
the Taliban rather than volunteering.
They were primal soups -- two dog boys,
a pig, and a hyena -- which tended
to mean cannon fodder more often
than it meant credible threat.
They were also all unarmed, and
too injured from some previous fight
to put up another one or even run away.
Lashon Frances left two of his men,
Harvey Ross and Duilio Anderson,
guarding the quartet of captives
so he could report on the capture.
Aaric Ilbert was already rummaging
in the humvee for the big first aid kit,
while Lashon reached for the radio.
Then came the sound of gunfire.
Lashon whirled and ran for his men,
but instead of the captives attacking
with hidden weapons, he found
Harvey trying to shoot them and
Duilio following Harvey's lead.
"Marines don't do that!"
Lashon barked as he
wrenched the weapon
away from Harvey.
Duilio flinched and
lowered his gun too.
"You're protecting them?"
Harvey snarled. "After
they killed Sander?"
"No, Sander Legrande
was killed by adult humans,"
Lashon said. "None of
these boys were involved."
"They're just animals, they
deserve to die like animals,"
Harvey said as he reached
for his backup handgun.
Lashon hit him in the face
with the butt of the rifle.
Harvey collapsed in the sand.
Lashon looked at Duilio, and
the younger man backed away.
"Drop your gun," Lashon said.
"Toss it away from the humvee."
Duilio tossed his gun away.
"Now grab Harvey and take
him over by the vehicle,"
Lashon said. "Stay there."
Duilio heaved Harvey onto
his shoulder and hauled
him over to the humvee.
Finally Lashon could go
check on the captives.
One of the dog boys
was clearly dead now.
He probably wasn't even
eighteen, though it was hard
to tell with half of his head gone,
and the others were younger.
A queasy lurch of guilt turned
Lashon's stomach; he really
should have been more careful.
Now the hyena, who had been
the worst wounded already, had
a fresh hole through his shoulder
or possibly his upper chest.
The surviving dog boy had
been stabbed several times,
but at least he didn't have
any new bullet holes.
The pig boy showed
multiple cuts, but they
all looked shallow in
comparison to the rest.
"Corpsman!" Lashon yelled.
They needed Aaric here
sooner rather than later.
"Here, sir," Aaric said
as he dropped down
beside the victims.
He worked fast,
patching up what
he could of the mess.
The hyena boy needed
a field hospital, though.
The dog boy probably did
too, although the pig boy
might be okay with first aid.
"I need another pair of
hands here, sir," said Aaric.
Oh yeah, it looked like
the hyena boy had gotten
in the way of a knife too.
He had a long slice across
his ribs that Lashon had to hold
so Aaric could tack it together.
Eventually the corpsman
moved on to the dog boy.
Lashon lent his hands
there too, so Aaric could
patch up the injuries.
The pig boy wasn't
as bad off, so Lashon
left him to Aaric and
went to the humvee.
"What's going to happen
to us?" Duilio asked him.
"I don't know," said Lashon.
"That's up to the CO at base.
We'll make our reports, and
let the brass sort it all out."
Well, Harvey would get
court-martialed for sure,
but Duilio might just
get demoted instead.
So Lashon called in
a quick summary of
what had happened and
asked for transport, since
the humvee couldn't carry
the soldiers as well as
the captives all at once.
Then he went back
to check on Aaric
and the primals.
"This kid will be fine,
and so will the dog boy,"
said Aaric. "Hyena's
touch and go, though."
Lashon hoped that
the hyena boy made it.
He felt guilty enough already.
The pig boy grunted as Aaric
scrubbed sand out of his injuries.
Then he looked up at Lashon
and said, "What happen us?"
Lashon sighed. This was
going to get ... messy.
"You are prisoners of war,"
he explained. "Because some
of my men committed war crimes,
you are all owed citizenship in
the United States of America.
If our actions mean you don't
want it, then America is obliged
to find you another country or
else pay different restitution."
"Also, right now you're injured,
so the first stop for everyone is
a field hospital," Aaric added.
"They'll fix you better than I can."
Aaric had joined the unit after
Sander's death, because nobody
had a trained corpsman available
so they had sent a volunteer who
was willing to learn on the job.
Aaric was learning just fine, but
he was still sensitive about that.
"Nobody can fix bullet holes with
first aid," Lashon pointed out.
"So yeah, field hospital next."
"Thank," said the pig boy. Then
he looked at the sprawled corpse.
"Him too," Aaric said. "They'll
want evidence of the murder,
but then you can decide what
to do with your friend's remains."
"Was leader," said the pig boy.
"Now Ramin." He tilted his head
to indicate the hyena boy.
"Hey, what are your names?
I can't keep calling you the pig boy,"
Lashon said. Names would help with
his report later. "I'm Lashon Frances,
and our corpsman is Aaric Ilbert."
"Javion Dehghani," the pig boy said,
pointing to himself. His hands were
oddly shaped, with two thick fingers
and a tiny stubby thumb. He pointed
to the dead boy. "Bahman Safavi."
The hyena boy earned a worried look.
"Ramin Afsoun." Finally the dog boy
was simply introduced as "Kalb."
Lashon frowned. He knew that
kalb meant "dog" in Arabic.
The others all had normal names
for Afghanistan. It made Lashon
wonder if there might be something
different about Kalb than the others.
Well, they could sort it out later.
For now he just needed to get them
to a field hospital and try to keep
the captives from freaking out.
Lashon shifted in place, awkward
and uncomfortable. His moral compass
felt like he'd gotten sand inside of it.
"Thank you for the introductions,
Javion," he said. "That will help."
"I'm all done here," Aaric said,
patting Javion's shoulder. "I'm
gonna go keep an eye on Ramin."
Javion watched them, still clearly
worried about Ramin's condition.
"On behalf of the Marine Corps,
I apologize for the violence,"
said Lashon. "That was wrong."
Javion shrugged. "Is war."
"It's a war crime," Lashon said.
"Prisoners of war are owed
decent treatment as well as
medical care if they need it.
They are not to be harmed."
"Is war," Javion repeated,
looking even more confused.
Great. They had come to
the Middle East to show folks
a better way of life, and wound up
confirming this warped view of war.
"Just ... watch what happens from
here out," Lashon said wearily.
"We'll try to show you boys how
things are supposed to go."
Maybe if he could see it through,
it'd relieve some of the wrenching guilt.
He wasn't getting his hopes up, though.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes will appear separately.