Porter

22 February 1945

Elijah Porter moved the bed covers off of his legs. He looked around his bedroom. His eyes scanned over the photo of him and his wife on their wedding day. Their smiles were wide and their eyes were shining frozen in time on a small sheet of paper in a cheap wooden frame they found at a pawn shop. He stood, and picked up the photo, smiling at the memory. They had just got married a year ago, she cried as he said his vows, her brown eyes boring into his, as she grinned from ear to ear, showing her straight, white teeth. He remembered brushing her curly hair from her face as he swung her around and kissed her, sealing their hearts forever.

He turned and looked at his wife asleep in bed, and had deja-vu as he remembered how she had laid in that exact position, when the house belonged to his sister in law, on the night his brother died in a gang fight he accidentally walked in on.

He smiled as he remembered the look on her face a month ago, as she ran into the kitchen yelling

“I’M PREGNANT ELI!!”

And how he picked her up, swung her around and kissed her face all over

He smiled a sad smile. His wife had been through thick and thin, and high and low with him, and now he was leaving to defend his country and he was leaving her... two months pregnant.

He got a sick, guilty feeling in his stomach.

What if I die? He thought, what if my kids don't have a father?

He set the photo down, shaking the thought from his head, and opened his dresser drawer to grab a shirt.

His wife, Allanah sat up and looked at her husband as he pulled on his pants and tucked in his shirt, he put his tags around his neck, and looked at himself in their small vanity mirror.

Allanah sighed, and turned her head away from her husband to stare at the wall adjacent to her bed. Elijah turned around at the sound of her sigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“Can’t you just stay off duty for while? And stay with me?” Allanah replied.

“Baby…” Elijah said, “it’s my job.”

“It’s not your job,” she answered, turning to look at him, “It isn’t your job anymore, it’s your entire life!”

Elijah didn’t answer. He sat on his side of the bed and let out a heavy breath of air. He sat there for a couple seconds… warfare had been his whole life since he ran away from home when he was fifteen, and joined the Chinese Military. His father turned him in for being too young, but Elijah didn't care and just went and joined another army. He found a home in battle.

Allanah continued: “Eli, don’t you want your kids to have a father?” she asked.

“Yes” Elijah said, another guilty pang hitting his gut. He crawled over to her side of the bed and wrapped his arms around her, “Of course I want them to have a father. But I also want them to have respect. When they walk the halls of this house, the halls of the school, and the streets of this town, I want them to know their father was- is- a fighter. A black american hero. And I want the other kids and their parents to look at our kids and say, ‘you’re that Porter kid aren’t you?’ I feel like respect from the world will be what I am fighting for. Respect for my kids, and for my beautiful wife.”

Allanah smiled a sad smile then hugged her husband and pressed her lips against his.

“I love you Eli.” she said, “Be careful.”

Elijah nodded, “I love you too, and I will.” he said, and then he left the room. Allanah followed him out, and they said their goodbyes before he got on the bus and disappeared down the road and over the hills.

One month later

21 March 1945

“Porter!” commanding officer Jenkins called from in front of his tent.

Elijah looked up from cleaning his gun.

“Me sir?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes you, you are the only Porter here.”

Elijah stood and jogged over to Jenkins.

“Yes sir?” he asked.

“You are an experienced soldier, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay, and since we are advancing into Heidelberg and Speyer in two days and we don’t know what dangers are ahead of us we need a unit to advance slowly to scope out the area tomorrow. I’m putting you as the commander of that team.”

“Yes sir.” Porter replied.

“You are leaving tomorrow, so tell your men to clean up their guns and to get the tank and trucks prepared.”

“Yes sir”

“Good day soldier.”

“Good day sir.”

Porter turned and did as he was told. That night he barely slept. He was filled with both excitement and fear. It was his time to prove that he was actually capable of fighting. His time to give his kids a worthy father. Elijah's own father was a drunkard and a dishonorable man. Elijah's own father was part of the reason he ran away from home to become a soldier. He shook the memory of his disheveled, drunk, red eyed father out of his head, and conjured up thoughts of his beautiful wife, he smiled and finally drifted to sleep.

23 March, 1945

Porter, and three of his men, Swifty, Foxer, and Jenner sat atop a tank.

Two more of his men were inside the tank, and 12 more were distributed in the two trucks in front of and behind them. All of his men were African Americans, what the white men called “the expendables”.

“Porter, what made Jenkins choose you as commander?” Elijah’s best friend and fellow soldier, Swifty, asked.

“Luck I guess.” Elijah replied, flashing a smile.

Swifty laughed, “Maybe because you hold your gun so tightly.”

Elijah looked down. His knuckles were almost white from how tightly he was gripping his rifle. He chuckled,

“Maybe,” he said, “or it’s because you need a person on the squad who can actually shoot.”

The crew laughed. Swifty smiled, “It ain’t my fault I can’t shoot. I used to be a good shot, but then my kids wore me out.” He winked, “And so’d my wife, if ya know what I mean.”

The men laughed. Porter grinned.

“Oh, that is a poor excuse. Just admit you aren't a good shot.”

Shifty smiled, “Well-”

He was cut off by a massive explosion coming from behind the tank.

Porter and his men turned their attention towards the explosion, and watched as the truck behind them and the men in it were thrown ten feet in the air and watched as it hit the ground so forcefully that it surely crushed the crew inside.

“BAZOOKA FIRE!” Porter screamed, “All infantry get off the tank!”

His men obeyed, and fired into the field blindly.

Porter squinted and saw the gun that had shot at them nearly 150 yards away in an old warehouse, across an open field.

“They have and 88!” he screamed, “Fall back!”

“They have a tank killer?!” Swifty asked.

“Yes! Now move!” the men sprinted back, and piled into the truck, some ran towards the tank.

“Leave the tank! It’s too slow!” Porter yelled.

The two men inside, climbed out, and they all ran towards the truck. As they ran. The enemy infantry opened fire, and mowed down six of the seven guys. They hit the seventh in the leg.

Porter leapt from the truck, and picked up the man, slinging him over his shoulder, and he ran him to the truck. His crew took the man and laid him down in the truck bed. Porter hopped in, “Go! Go!” He yelled to the driver. The driver turned around and gunned it down the road. The Germans stopped firing once the Americans were out of sight.

Jenkins met Porter's unit halfway back to base with his own men.

Porter filled him in on what had happened. He told him about the 88, “tank killer” that they had in the warehouse across the open field, and about the turrets they had as well.

“Damn it!” Jenkins yelled, clenching his fists and banging them on the hood of the truck. He straightened, and asked, “Do we know how many guns they have farther along the road?”

“No sir.”

Jenkins turned to one of his soldiers.

“I need men to go out and fight the German Infantry.”

“Yes sir.” the soldier said, and he left

“Sir?” Porter said.

“Yes private?”

“Let me go.”

“No, I can’t let a private go out and fight an unknown amount of soldiers. It’s too dangerous.”

“No, sir. You said it yourself, I am an experienced soldier. And I am fully confident that I can carry this out the way you want it to be carried out sir.” He looked down at the ground and back up at Jenkins, and even though he didn't truly believe this, he added; “I'm expendable…” he knew this phrase might change Jenkin's mind because since Porter was a black man, his life, (in the eyes of the white men), meant little- to- nothing, therefore, if he died, they wouldn’t care. And as much as that annoyed Porter, he found a way to use it to his advantage.

Jenkins looked at him and frowned, “This is a very important mission, private.” he paused, thinking. “But,” he said, “ if you are confident, you can go.”

“Thank you sir.” Porter said.

He ran over to a cargo truck and opened a crate full of magazines. He grabbed four mags, then proceeded to pry open a case of grenades.

As he was loading himself up with explosives three of his men from the last mission approached him.

“We’re coming with you.” Shifty said.

Porter chuckled, “No you ain’t” he said as he put another grenade in his pockets.

“If we don’t go with you, it’s basically a suicide mission.” Foxer said.

“You aren’t coming with me. That’s final.” He said, and he tried to walk away.

The men blocked his way, “You’re our commander, and my best friend,” Swifty said, “And I am coming, for you, and for my family. And If you say no, I’m- we are most likely going to do it anyway.”

Porter smiled, and punched his friend's shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Okay,” he said, “I guess you can come. Get some ammo and explosives.”

Two hours later, the four men stood at the edge of the field.

“Alright guys, let’s go.” He said, and they started advancing briskly towards the warehouse.

He glanced to his left, to see Foxer, who looked serious and slightly scared. He looked to his right at Shifty, who looked back at him, smiled, and gave him a thumbs up. He looked behind him at Jenner, who was sweating nervously, and breathing hard.

“Alright soldiers, let’s keep our heads up.” He said encouragingly.

A few seconds passed. A few seconds of complete silence. And then the sound of gunfire ripped through the air. one bullet came so close to his face that he felt the gust of wind it created. Porter saw the sniper on the top of the hill. He aimed his automatic and before he pulled the trigger, the man collapsed. The firing ceased, and Porter turned to check on his men.

Foxer was brushing off his pants and Jenner was wiping sweat off his forehead.

“Where’s Shifty?” he asked, “Shifty?!” He exclaimed, pushing aside grass so he could find his friend.

“Over here…” Came a raspy, weak voice.

Elijah turned, ran to his friend and knelt beside him.

He had a bullet lodged in his sternum and his stomach.

Swifty coughed up blood, then tried to smile.

“That was me, I hit him Eli.” he said, then he tried to laugh, but coughed up more blood, “I- I guess I’m not as bad of a shot as you thought.”

Porter smiled, “Not I guess not.”

“I think I’m okay.” Swifty said.

“This is no time for jokes right now, Swifty.”

Swifty looked away, and then back at Elijah. Then he reached up and grabbed Porter’s uniform with his bloody hands.

“Promise me,” he said, “Promise me you will tell my wife I died saving your ass,” He laughed, “But in all seriousness, tell her, tell her I love her so much, with all of my heart. And that I am so sorry I didn’t get to meet our new daughter.” a tear ran down Swifty’s face.

“ No, Swifty!” Porter yelled, “Not yet, Don’t give, up yet. Please!”

Foxer and Jenner took their helmets off and bowed their heads.

Swifty smiled again, as tears streamed down his face, “Make sure my kids have a role model. And make sure our kids are best friends. And-” he gasped, “Make sure my daughter goes to college.” Swifty took a few more panicked breaths, coughed up more blood, took one last, deep breath, and then went limp.

“I promise,” Elijah said.

He removed Swifty’s lifeless hand from his shoulder, then stood and slipped his tags off his neck, and read them:

Jacob Jackson

Private

000322980

“Swifty”

He turned to his men, “There are more than I thought there would be,” he said, “so I’m going to go cause a diversion to draw their fire. And you guys are going to shoot at them from here.”

“Sir, It’s safer if we all just go together.” Jenner said.

“Just listen!” Porter exclaimed, “I’m going alone. I’m going to draw their fire, so they are focused on me, while you two shoot at the vulnerable men from where you are.”

Both men sighed, “Okay.”

Porter turned and began advancing alone. Almost immediately a mine went off, and sent him sprawling on the ground. His ears were ringing, and his body hurt, but he got up swiftly and continued forward. He stopped about 20 yards away, pulled the pin of a grenade and threw it. Instantly after the explosion a bullet was shot into his leg. He was knocked to his knees, which sent another wave of pain up his thigh and into his hip. He got back up, pure adrenaline kept him moving and he continued to run towards the warehouse.

Bullets were raining down like arrows in a medieval battle. As he was running, two of the bullets lodged themselves into his right shoulder. He fell to the ground, and turned to see Jenner shot through the eye, and Foxer shot twice in the chest.

Porter punched the ground in anger. Then got up, and aimed his gun in the midst of the rain of bullets. Then he shot all three of the Germans behind the barrier. Then he felt a burning pain as a bullet ripped a hole through his left shoulder.

He turned to where the bullet had come from, and saw the massive turret. And even with the immense, burning pain in his right shoulder, he removed the pin from another grenade, and pulled his arm back. The man behind the turret aimed his rifle, and right when the grenade left Elijah’s hand, the German fired. The bullet found its mark on the right side of Porter’s chest. But before he fell to the ground, he watched as his grenade demolished both the turret and the man. Then his vision went black, and he collapsed to the ground.

As he lay on the cold, hard dirt, he found himself in his parent’s livingroom on Christmas morning. Taking a plate from his wife to give to his kids who were sitting in the living room, laughing and playing with some of the presents they had opened. His parents were watching their grandchildren smiling. His wife turned him around and said;

“I love you, Eli. I’m so glad you made it back to us, safe and sound.” She smiled up at him.

Her smile triggered something in Porter’s mind as he slowly blinked his eyes open.

He felt the cold hard ground beneath him, the long grass tickled his face, and the grey sky nearly blinded him when his eyes opened fully.

Then he felt the pain. The massive, ripping, burning pain all over his body. It felt as though some invisible force was trying to rip him apart. He looked down and saw his clothes soaked in blood. he praised the heavens for keeping him alive.

He rolled to his side, and tried to stand, but immediately dove back to the ground when he saw eight German soldiers with their heads down searching the field for any survivors, the sudden action sent jolting violent pain up into his body, and he nearly cried out.

He grabbed his rifle, which was sitting two feet away from him, and with shaking hands, he searched his straps for the mag he took from the cargo truck.

The German men were getting closer, Porter could hear their voices.

He quickly ejected the empty magazine from his rifle, and clicked the new one in.

The Germans were less than fifteen feet away. He could hear their footsteps. His heartbeat was accelerating as they drew near.

He waited ten more seconds, praying that he wouldn’t lose focus or bleed out before he did what he was about to do.

Two more seconds passed… the Germans were eight feet away.

Despite the immense pain in his leg, Elijah Porter stood, and, without aiming, he opened fire, and mowed down six men. Who all fell, dead, to the ground.

The last two dropped their weapons.

“Wir geben auf” the one on the left said. “We surrender!”

“Komm her!” Porter said, “Come here.”

The men walked towards him, slowly.

“Schneller!” he yelled, “faster!”

The men jogged towards him.

“Get in front of me.” Porter said. The men stared at him, blankly. Porter rolled his eyes, “Vor mir stehen!”

He used the two men as human shields as he limped, backwards, out of the field. And with every step, a shooting pain shot up his leg and into his side. It hurt to hold his gun, but nevertheless, he kept it poised and aimed at his two captives.

Even though Porter was in massive pain, he limped back to camp. As he did so, he interrogated the men, speaking perfect, fluent german, and using force when needed.

Jenkins met Elijah at the edge of the camp.

“Dear god private!” he said as he went to assist Porter, who immediately collapsed onto the support of Jenkins’s shoulder.

“Someone! Take care of these German scum!” Jenkins ordered one of his men, nodding his head towards the two German soldiers.

“Sir…” Porter said weakly.

“What?”

“Promise me, you'll get my men’s bodies from that field.”

“I’ll get some men on that right away.” Jenkins replied, then he turned to one of his soldiers, “Get Porter to a hospital immediately!”

“Yes sir!” the soldier said, and he went to retrieve a truck.

When the man got back with the truck, Jenkins set Elijah in it.

“Wait, sir.” Porter said, pain seeping into his voice.

“What, private?”

“There’s concealed artillery and mortar crews in heidelberg.”

“How in God’s name did you know that?” Jenkins asked.

“I interrogated them, sir.” Porter said, “The captives.”

Jenkins stood in awe for a minute. Then, he said quietly, “you know german?”

Porter laughed, “Yeah,” he said, “I know a lot more than you give me credit for, sir.”

Jenkins smiled, “For sure.” he said, he tipped his hat, “Good day soldier.”

Elijah smiled, and let his head relax,

“Good day captain.” he said. And the truck started and began moving out in the direction of the hospital.

Three weeks later

14 May 1945

Elijah Porter’s wounds were still bandaged when he returned to camp. The doctors had told him:

“You have a million dollar wound son, you have to go on home.” But Porter refused, and left the hospital, returning to base where Jenkins met him with a smile and a handshake. Which was the first time Porter had been greeted with a handshake from a white man.

“Welcome back, private.” Jenkins said, “Just in time for our leave.”

Porter smiled.

“Yes sir.” he said, and he headed toward the line of trucks and tanks, slowly moving into line.

“Porter.” Jenkins said.

Elijah turned around, “Yes sir?”

“I got a call earlier that you went AWOL from the hospital.” He laughed, “Did you leave early?”

Porter nodded, “Two months early sir.”

Jenkins chuckled and shook his head, “You are a stupidly brave man, Porter. I respect that.”

Porter smiled, “Thank you sir.” he said, than he went and retrieved his gun and explosives, and joined his men on the tank.

“Here we go again boys!” he said raising his rifle in the air with one hand, “FOR AMERICA!” he exclaimed triumphantly.

“FOR AMERICA!” his men repeated and they erupted in cheers.

Porter put his hand over his heart as they cheered, “for Shifty.” he whispered.