do the jobs that nobody else wanted - to get our hands dirty face-to-face with a specified enemy. Finding those kinds of people wasn't easy. If you look, there's evidence that, in most modern wars, the average soldier simply shot his gun in the general direction of the enemy and when given a clear shot at an individual, couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. Most casualties of war came from the long-range weapons, when you couldn't see the face of your opponent. There were always exceptions, of course; otherwise Mac wouldn't have found enough recruits to form his unit.
Actually, I think he accepted some of the early missions - like my first one, where we actually went in and did the whole job - just to give us some on-the-job-training. He didn't trust an outsider to protect his new people until they graduated, so to speak. Regardless of all the training, no one was really considered a graduate until they actually pulled the trigger, figuratively speaking of course - it could be a knife or garrote or your hands.
We lost one of our group that way. His name was Mark and he was a pain in the ass all through training. He was the gung-ho type, with the movie soldier syndrome. You know what I mean. He considered everyone with perfectly legitimate fears, if not a coward, then certainly lacking in the manly attitude. I'll admit I was prejudiced - he was one of the ones who laughed at my reaction to parachute training. He was the first to belittle someone for a bad score and the first to brag on his own good scores - and they were very good. He was a natural at any weapon and hell on wheels at hand-to-hand. There was more than a touch of bully in him and we were all just as happy when he was sent out on his own and not paired with one of us. Vance went along to chaperone and told us about it later.
It wasn't a high-risk operation, as the French underground did all the work. All Mark had to do was lie down on the ground about three hundred yards back and pull a trigger. It was broad daylight and the target was just standing there. Vance was lying beside him, ready to make sure if Mark missed. The first time you have a real person in your sights instead of a paper target, its easy to get a little excited and rush the shot or shake just enough to pull the bullet off course, which is why we always had company on our first missions. Anyway, Vance waited almost too long, giving Mark the benefit of the doubt. Then, he heard a choking sound and saw the barrel of Mark's rifle tilt down. Looking over at him, Vance saw that Mark was crying. He simply couldn't pull the trigger. He wasn't a coward - he was later awarded a Silver Star for bravery under fire, once he was reassigned to a combat unit where his talents were more appreciated - he just couldn't kill someone in cold blood, something no tests, interviews or training can determine.
Mark, of course, never came back to our base. His things were collected and forwarded to the appropriate unit. Most of us, including Vance, didn't fault him, and those who hadn't yet had the chance to prove themselves were very quiet for a few days. It happens. Fortunately, Vance was able to make the touch and nobody died because of a failed mission.
Ironically, a lot of our missions were like Mark's, especially while we mostly operated in France. Mac was willing to lend a hand when a back-up man who was handy with weapons was needed, so long as the primary risk was taken by others. I spent a lot of time totally removed from the action, waiting for my target to appear, pulling a trigger, and quietly disappearing while all hell broke loose below me. Most of the time I had no idea why I was pulling the trigger or even whom I was shooting. We weren't exactly inundated with information, if you know what I mean.
Chapter 12
Our little group would expand and contract as the war went on, new recruits added and
Actually, I think he accepted some of the early missions - like my first one, where we actually went in and did the whole job - just to give us some on-the-job-training. He didn't trust an outsider to protect his new people until they graduated, so to speak. Regardless of all the training, no one was really considered a graduate until they actually pulled the trigger, figuratively speaking of course - it could be a knife or garrote or your hands.
We lost one of our group that way. His name was Mark and he was a pain in the ass all through training. He was the gung-ho type, with the movie soldier syndrome. You know what I mean. He considered everyone with perfectly legitimate fears, if not a coward, then certainly lacking in the manly attitude. I'll admit I was prejudiced - he was one of the ones who laughed at my reaction to parachute training. He was the first to belittle someone for a bad score and the first to brag on his own good scores - and they were very good. He was a natural at any weapon and hell on wheels at hand-to-hand. There was more than a touch of bully in him and we were all just as happy when he was sent out on his own and not paired with one of us. Vance went along to chaperone and told us about it later.
It wasn't a high-risk operation, as the French underground did all the work. All Mark had to do was lie down on the ground about three hundred yards back and pull a trigger. It was broad daylight and the target was just standing there. Vance was lying beside him, ready to make sure if Mark missed. The first time you have a real person in your sights instead of a paper target, its easy to get a little excited and rush the shot or shake just enough to pull the bullet off course, which is why we always had company on our first missions. Anyway, Vance waited almost too long, giving Mark the benefit of the doubt. Then, he heard a choking sound and saw the barrel of Mark's rifle tilt down. Looking over at him, Vance saw that Mark was crying. He simply couldn't pull the trigger. He wasn't a coward - he was later awarded a Silver Star for bravery under fire, once he was reassigned to a combat unit where his talents were more appreciated - he just couldn't kill someone in cold blood, something no tests, interviews or training can determine.
Mark, of course, never came back to our base. His things were collected and forwarded to the appropriate unit. Most of us, including Vance, didn't fault him, and those who hadn't yet had the chance to prove themselves were very quiet for a few days. It happens. Fortunately, Vance was able to make the touch and nobody died because of a failed mission.
Ironically, a lot of our missions were like Mark's, especially while we mostly operated in France. Mac was willing to lend a hand when a back-up man who was handy with weapons was needed, so long as the primary risk was taken by others. I spent a lot of time totally removed from the action, waiting for my target to appear, pulling a trigger, and quietly disappearing while all hell broke loose below me. Most of the time I had no idea why I was pulling the trigger or even whom I was shooting. We weren't exactly inundated with information, if you know what I mean.
Chapter 12
Our little group would expand and contract as the war went on, new recruits added and
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