they used to shout my name (now they whisper it)

chapter three: sledge

Author's Note: Here's chapter three! I'm putting in an author's note to let you all know that I am leaving for vacation this Friday (the 17th) and won't be returning until next Saturday, the 25th. I won't be able to update at all next week, I'm so sorry! But hopefully I'll be able to work on it when I have free time from my parents and their friends (it's like a joined vacation. RIP me.)! (I mean, I'm hoping I'll be able to watch Teen Wolf and the Scream TV series while I'm there...so wish me luck on that.) So here I am, rushing to get this published. My computer is acting really uh...well it's not working properly, which is why my updates have been kind of off and I'm not sure if I'll be able to update ASAP when I get back because 1) my computer and 2) I should probably start on some AP Euro summer work. (I actually got most of it done today, but I have to write an essay. UGH.) The next time I update, it'll most likely be for my BOB fic which I'm hoping I'll be able to update by the time I leave, but I can't say for sure.

Now that I'm done rambling, here's chapter...three! There's a lot of skips in this but oh well.

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The Marines were sent to Cape Gloucester, an island off of New Britain.

Matt didn't much of it at first. He and his fellow comrades got all set up, waiting for the fighting. He had to admit, he was anxious for it. Whether it was for the thrill of it or whether it was so he could get it done, Matt couldn't tell you. He just wanted to get it over with.

It rained a lot at Cape Gloucester. The rain drops were heavy and it always came unexpectedly. It didn't matter if you were able to get your poncho on or not, you were instantly soaked to the bone within seconds. Matt and other Marines ended up getting colds from it.

Eventually, when the fighting rolled around, Matt was not prepared at the time. He was in his hammock, drawing an overdramatic figure of Snafu when he heard the shots going off. He shared a look with Jay before the shots got louder. Quickly, Matt put his helmet on and rolled out of his hammock, grabbing his gun and crawling into positions with Jay, Burgin and Snafu.

Those next few weeks were absolute hell. In fact, Matt was sure that they were in hell. Matt found a hard time keeping up with the rapid pace of war. He watched comrades die right in front him. He had killed many of the enemy. He's fought in the day in the night. He fought in rain or shine. He didn't know what was the worst or what was the better condition to fight in.

In one of the many battles, Matt had gotten hit in the forearm. God, did that hurt like hell. He yelled, but he hadn't called for a corpsman. A corpsman came to his aid anyway. He tried to keep firing as the corpsman was checking his wounds, but the corpsman hit him hard in his wound, causing Matt to hiss and drop his gun.

"What the fuck?" he yelled to the corpsman.

"I'm trying to get the bullet out. Move off the line!" the corpsman yelled. Before they could do anything, however, the corpsman was shot down.

"Holy fuck," Matt whispered to himself, checking to see if the corpsman was alright. He turned the body over to find that the corpsman had been shot in the head.

"Shit," Matt said to himself once more. He would have to get the bullet out later. Quickly, Matt dug into the corpsman's bags and found sulfa. He placed some on his wound before wrapping the wound, temporarily stopping the bleeding.

Looking back to that moment, Matt thought that was one of the scarier things. He remembered that Madison was going to be a corpsman too (or medic, since she was with the army). His sister was going to be on the line at all times, patching up her comrades and knowing her, try to protect them. Like the corpsman that had tried to help him, Madison could get killed out there. In his next letter to her, Matt wrote to Madison to think twice before actually going into war.