Achtung Baby
Baxter and I were sitting on my cot, backs against the Bradley’s skirt plate, eating MREs for breakfast and talking about Sgt. Lustig. He was the tough platoon sergeant who didn’t talk much and always meant exactly what he said. He was the one with “ACHTUNG BABY” stenciled on his tank’s gun tube. His platoon was always out front, the first to receive contact.
“He’s like fucking Satan,” said Baxter. “He don’t hesitate to blow these motherfuckers away. That’s why I told him, ‘If you were going to Hell to fight the devil, Sgt. Lustig, I’d go with you.”
“What did Lustig say?”
“He said, ‘Thank you, Pvt. Baxter, I appreciate that.’”
I pretty much felt the same way. Lustig and Wolford were aggressive, didn’t flinch, but knew when to pull back or hold their fire. They made sure things happened. They were hardasses and didn’t have the rosiest personalities, but they looked after their men. People like that would keep you alive, but there was more to it than that. They were leaders. No frills, not much charisma. But I was beginning to realize, like Baxter, I would follow them anywhere.
Riding around in an armored vehicle, blowing shit up, trying to avoid being blown up, was beginning to feel like the entirety of existence. The past and other places were very far away, and the future didn’t exist.
Posted by Jules Crittenden at 1:00 am on Saturday, April 4, 2009
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