Night Vision

by Tim Moynihan 

Private David Brown, ruddy, bright-eyed and awful young looking for a seasoned combat veteran, sat in his company commander's office and waited for the next difficult question. He was eighteen years old and turning down a Bronze Star for Valor, one of his nation's highest awards. But it was the right thing to do, even if everyone said he was crazy. He had adapted the motto of his dead platoon leader, Lieutenant Samuel: “Always do the right thing--even if it feels wrong.” The Lieutenant was gone in body but still very much present in spirit.

Captain Joshua Morris, flint-faced and seasoned commander of Bravo Company, sat reading Private Brown's prepared statement. To Morris' right, Lieutenant Jonathan Abrams, the company Executive Officer, sat staring at the young private. They wore their “battle-rattle” – combat equipment – for they could be called to fight at any moment. 

“So according to your written statement, it was Lieutenant Samuel, not Sergeant King, who led the patrol out of the ambush site at Junction 78 on April 9th,” Captain Morris continued.           

“Yes, sir,” Brown answered.

“And this is your sworn statement?” asked the Captain.

“Yes, sir.”

“Even though Lieutenant Samuel was killed on April 7th?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lieutenant, call in Sergeant King.”

Abrams did as ordered and the three were joined by a scowling, cynical giant, Sergeant Conrad King. King, who stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the unit, had a good reason to scowl. He was also up for a Bronze Star, unless Brown's statement changed the official story.            

King glared at the private, sat next to him and turned to face the commander.  

“Sergeant King, have you read Private Brown's statement?” Captain Morris asked.

“Yes, sir, and with all due respect, sir, he's nuts.” 

“So,” Captain Morris continued, fixing his gaze on Private Brown, “let's make sure we all understand you, Brown, according to your sworn statement, it was the deceased Lieutenant Samuel who led the patrol out of the ambush site at Junction 78 on April 9th.” 

“Yes, sir.”

King popped out of his chair.

“He's freakin' crazy, sir, just like I said!”

Abrams glanced up at King.

“At ease, Sergeant!”  Captain Morris snapped. Then he looked at Brown and spoke again with his honey tinged Florida accent. “Son, this is no joke, we've all been under pressure, especially you. Did you know Lieutenant Samuel and Lieutenant Abrams were West Point classmates?  It won't do to mock the dead.” 

“Sir, if I may be so bold, I've brought more than just my sworn statement, I brought proof,” Brown answered.

With that Private Brown reached down by his chair and grabbed a sand-colored tactical carrying case for night vision goggles. He stood up and unceremoniously dumped its contents on Captain Morris' desk. The suddenness of the action rattled the senior officer for just a moment.

“Night vision goggles. Okay, where did you get these, Brown?” he asked.

“They belonged to Lieutenant Samuel before he died, sir. I secured them from his vehicle when he got killed,” Brown answered.

“Why, you little thief…” growled King.           

“At ease, Sergeant King!” Captain Morris snapped.

“Look, sir,” Brown continued, “Lieutenant Samuel got killed coming to the aid of an Iraqi civilian…”

“And in violation of our rules of engagement,” King interjected.  “We had Iraqi police on the spot already…”

“At ease, Sergeant!” Captain Morris boomed. “Go on, Brown.”

 “Well, I think we could have saved Lieutenant Samuel's life but Sergeant King didn't want to wait...” 

“Liar!” shouted the Sergeant, jumping to his feet again.

“Sergeant King, I said clamp it! Look, you're dismissed,” the Captain commanded. “Return to your platoon now!” 

There was a pause.

“All right, sir, but don't let this nutcase fool you.”  Sergeant King looked at his commander, then at Brown and stormed out, slamming the door behind.

“Okay, Brown, explain yourself,” said the Captain.

“Sir, just put these on. When you do, you'll see Lieutenant Samuel--I swear--that's how he gave me his orders on the 9th. I just put these on and did what I was told. He led me and the platoon followed me.”

“And Sergeant King?”

“Sir, when I gave him these goggles to show him, he saw Lieutenant Samuel and freaked out. He said Samuel was coming back to get him. Sergeant                                                      

King stayed in his vehicle during the battle… and he's been trying to get his hands on these goggles ever since !”

“So, Private Brown, are you telling me Sergeant King is afraid of a ghost?”

“Yes, sir, I'm no hero either, I just obeyed the Lieutenant.”

“Okay, Brown, we have your statement, we have the night vision goggles. Go get your gear, you're going to Second Brigade, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” With that Private Brown stood, saluted, and walked out.

“Well, Lieutenant Abrams, what do you think?” asked the Captain.

“Sir, I think Brown and King are both crazy. This will be bad for troop morale if word gets out. I recommend we push the awards forward, re-assign Brown as planned and drop this, sir.”

“Do you think Sergeant King had something to do with Lieutenant Samuel's death? If so, we need to do the right thing and that means an investigation, no matter how bad it is for morale.”

“Yes, sir, except we have nothing to go by but one nutty soldier's accusation. Jesse Samuel was my friend, sir. If I thought King was responsible for his death I'd push for an investigation. But Brown sounds crazy—no one will believe a ghost story. I'd go with a gut feeling before I'd go with Brown's ghost.”   

“Okay, Lieutenant, no sense in getting this blown out of proportion. For now, I'll go with your recommendation. If anything changes, let me know.”  

Captain Morris examined the night vision goggles on his desk. They were not the standard issue military night vision goggles but a civilian model manufactured by a company called Endor Corporation . The modes were unfamiliar. There were settings for Infrared , Medium and Thermal .  It was set on Medium .

“Hmmm, never saw this setup before.”

His curiosity aroused, he click them on, placed the eye-piece to his face and looked toward the door. The goggles were designed to turn night into green phosphorescent day and would automatically shut down in a brightly lit room such as the Command Post. There was a strange look on Captain Morris' face as he peered through the goggles. Lieutenant Abrams couldn't remember seeing this look on his commander's face before. Was it shock? Fear? Captain Morris removed the goggles from his eye and handed them to his Lieutenant.

“Please dispose of these for me,” he said without explanation.    

Lieutenant Abrams nodded and took the goggles from his commander. Stepping out of the command post, he shut the door and looked up at the Iraqi night sky. The sky was cloudy and darker than usual. He fingered the night vision goggles in his hand. They had belonged to a good friend. He clicked the power on and a soft green glow played out of the eyepiece. He lifted it to his face.

“Hey, Jon, how's Bravo Company?”

Lieutenant Abrams pulled the goggles away. Was he seeing things?   

“Who's there?” He asked the dark empty space to his front.

Nothing. No answer. He returned the eye-piece to his eyes.

“Sorry, Jon, you can only see and hear me when you have the goggles on,” said the familiar phantom to his front. “Relax, it's me, Jess Samuel, remember me? You were in my wedding!” 

“Holy…” Abrams pulled the goggles away. Nothing was there. He put it back to his eyeballs. There was Jesse Samuel, in spectral green, and it was real.

“I'm back, can't you see, Jon? The kid, Private Brown, he's telling the truth. King did leave me to die the day I crossed over. But even after that I couldn't leave the platoon. I knew a lot of my guys would die on the 9th if I didn't intervene.” Then the phantom's face changed as he exclaimed, “Watch out!” 

At that moment, a dark hand reached from behind, grasped the night vision goggles and stripped them from Lieutenant Abrams' face. In the darkness Abrams couldn't see what was happening. He heard stomping and the sound of plastic breaking. He turned to grab at a shadowy figure and jammed a mini-mag flashlight into the face. It was Sergeant King. 

“Sergeant King, what the---”  

King shook himself free and ran off into the gloom. Lieutenant Abrams aimed the beam at the ground and saw the debris of the night vision goggles. He picked up the pieces. They were hopelessly destroyed. 

That's all I needed , he thought. Good work, Brown .                                                                        

Lieutenant Abrams walked back in to the company command post and reported to Captain Morris.

“Sir, I can't explain it but I just got that gut feeling I was telling you about. I recommend we lock Sergeant King up and pursue the investigation.”

“Okay, Lieutenant, I was just thinking the same thing. You still have the goggles?”

“No, sir, they're gone.”

Captain Morris seemed to pause before answering.  Abrams shivered. Cold air wafted over his body, then was gone.

“Good, they say it's a sin to disturb the dead…”

“Roger that, sir.”

“Now go with your gut and notify the military police while I call battalion headquarters.”

“You got it, sir.”