The testament of SSG Blessing (8)

Nobody said a word on the way back to the crash site, and our silence wasn't out of tactical necessity alone.

I thought about the things I had seen.  I searched for anything that could logically explain the events we experienced that night, but nothing came to mind.  I've seen plenty of dead.  I've killed up close before.  I know a corpse when I see one, and those....things, were certainly of the corpse variety, but why were they moving?  How?

To this day, I still don't have the answers.  I probably never will.

I made coms with the Platoon Sergeant just before we reached the crash site.  I grabbed the camera from Johnson, and had Jules put the boys in place around the perimeter.  Our horrific experience must have showed on our faces.  When I linked up with the Platoon Sergeant, he gazed at the boys as they moved into position, gave me a funny look, and asked if everything was all right.  I didn't say a word, instead, I pulled out the camera, and showed him the video.

Our Platoon Sergeant, Sergeant First Class David VanVugt, was a bonafide cowboy before he enlisted.  He was born and raised in South Dakota, and grew up on a small ranch raising cattle.  He was one of the most honest, hard working individuals I have ever met in my life, and his practical and common sense approach to problem solving was emulated by every leader in the Platoon, including the Platoon Leader.  He was our anchor in the sea of chaos we often found ourselves in while conducting operations.  He didn't say a word as he viewed the footage.  Jules suddenly appeared and SFC V broke the silence.

Jules and I told him of our experience from start to finish, and he asked all the same questions I had asked myself, in a vain attempt to find some logical conclusion that simply didn't exist.  The cannabilism could have been the result of bad drugs, or maybe temporary insanity from infected wounds.  The "walking dead" could simply be infected with an unknown virus that masks their vital signs.  We thought about these possiblities, and while they could indeed exist as "possiblities", the probability seemed to border more on the "impossible", rather than "possible".  Bodies need blood and organs to operate, and the video evidence clearly showed that those things were functional despite lacking both.

Still, this WAS Afghanistan, and who knows what kind of virus lived in these remote hills.  Nobody  understood the symptoms of Ebola when that virus was discovered, and it took plenty of time to understand the HIV virus as well.  This could very well be a localized virus we stumbled upon, like Ebola, but worse.  We explored this line of thinking for a time, and concluded that it was the only logical explanation.  We thought of the potential implications, and began to piece together the odd events that occured the night we arrived on the objective.

Since we had arrived, we witnessed TF Bravo assualters seemingly "come back to life", despite being assessed as KIA.  We saw locals eating a stray dog and an infant, and discovered signs of cannabilism in the town we cleared.  We witnessed individuals functioning despite horrendous wounds that would kill a normal man, and they lacked vital signs when checked.  We also had members of our force sustain injury due to bite wounds.

Bite wounds.

Bite wounds inflicted by those that should have been dead.

Jules was the first one to make the connection, and when he did, the Platoon Sergeant and I followed his gaze to the only man at our crash site that sustained a bite wound.

The TF Bravo medic lay on the ground behind a rock, seemingly unconscious, clutching his wounded hand.