Editor’s note: this appears to be an alternative ending that Joe wrote to the previous story ‘Murphy’s Law’.
What military genius would send us out on a patrol like that one? At night with two Jeeps and four men. I know we had plenty of men, but to lose two jeeps. I guess they figured if we came back, the road was clear. If we didn’t, how long would they have waited? We had no radio communication. Were the armored cars too valuable to risk on a night mission? Now let’s see two green GIs, Bender and me. Were they trying to tell us something?
Well, we fooled them. The bad pennies returned. I wonder how the Lieutenant explained the rookie’s broken leg. Me? I would have sent out a full platoon or a foot patrol with a two-way radio, but what do I know? I was just a Corporal. When I was a kid, my nickname was Happy. From that night on, I should have been called Lucky. Why wasn’t I driving the Jeep? The Lieutenant knew I was from New York City, and my ability to drive was suspect. I could ride the subway, though.
Revised ending.
What military genius would send us out on a patrol like the one I just described? Two jeeps, four men and at night? I know we had plenty of men, but to risk two valuable vehicles and machine guns. Half the patrol had never fired a shot in combat, and Bender couldn’t hit the broadside of a running chicken. I was a mortar gunner for jiminy sakes. Behind a 50-caliber machine gun, I was a danger to all concerned. Our orders were to stick to the paved road. I guess they wanted to see if the Krauts had them mined. I hated being a target. I know that putting men in harm’s way to test the lines was for the greater good, but I just wish this once they would have used a little more discretion.
I was running out of clean underwear. This patrol was a good example that even the least of us could contribute to the final victory just by being there. Since the patrol made the round trip that night, would the Brass say the road was open?