Mar 16, 2025

  R

  literature

  Rudy Goes to War

  Rudy had come from a long line of military men. His father served in Vietnam, his grandfather in World War II, and so on, stretching back through the generations. Every man in the family had gone to war, had worn the uniform, had done their duty. Rudy wanted nothing more than to make his father proud, so the second he turned eighteen, he marched straight into the recruiter's office and signed up.

  Boot camp, however, was not what Rudy had imagined. He had pictured himself as a war hero in the making—firing rifles, taking down terrorists, earning medals. Instead, he was the platoon's punchline.

  "Goddamn, Rudy! You are such a worthless, half-dumb, good-for-nothing piece of garbage in this whole goddamn platoon!" the drill sergeant barked, his face red with rage.

  Rudy wiped the spit off his cheek and held back tears until lights-out, then slipped away to call his father. "Dad, the drill sergeant is a total dick. I don’t think I’m ever gonna get to go fight and kill some terrorists. Wah," Rudy whined into the phone.

  His father sighed, the sound of a beer cracking open in the background. "Goddamnit, Rudy, I shoulda known you’d pull some shit like this. How the fuck do you expect to go to war if you can't cut boot camp?"

  Rudy sniffled, swallowed his pride, and got back in formation the next morning. He trained harder, took the verbal abuse like a champ, and even managed to scrape by without washing out.

  When the time came for deployment, however, Rudy was denied. "Unfit for combat," the paperwork read. "Complete failure at life."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Rudy sat in the corner of the barracks, head in his hands, moping. The other soldiers couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him.

  "Hey, Sarge, Rudy put in all this work at boot camp. We should let him fight!" one of them piped up.

  "Yeah!" The others chimed in, voices growing louder. Soon, a chant began:

  "Let him fight! Let him fight!"

  The drill sergeant looked around at the dumbasses he'd been assigned and threw his hands up. "Okay, fuck it. Rudy, you're infantry. Front line. Good luck, soldier."

  Rudy nearly exploded with excitement and rushed to call his dad. "Dad! Dad! They're gonna let me fight! I get to save America!"

  His father sighed, long and heavy. "Goddamnit, Rudy. How the fuck did you pull that off? Just keep your goddamn head down, okay?"

  "You just watch! Keep watching the news! I'll be in Fallujah soon!" Rudy said, bursting with pride.

  And soon, he was.

  The convoy was rolling down a deserted road, the desert heat beating down on them, when the IED went off. The explosion turned the lead vehicle into flying shrapnel, sending bodies into the air.

  "Holy shit!" Rudy screamed, leaping out of the Humvee.

  Bullets zipped past his head. His fellow soldiers hit the ground, returning fire.

  "Rudy, what the fuck are you doing? Get your ass to the front line!" his sergeant roared.

  But Rudy wasn’t listening. His eyes had locked onto something more important—a news crew, cameras rolling.

  "Hold on, Sarge! I see a news crew! Lemme call my dad!"

  As he pulled out his phone, several of his fellow soldiers were mowed down by machine gun fire. Rudy, however, remained standing, waving at the cameras, hoping they were getting his good side.

  Then came the hand grenade.

  Somehow, in the chaos, it got caught on his belt. The pin popped free. Rudy had just enough time to look down, eyes wide, before—

  BOOM.

  The blast split him in half. His torso landed several feet away, arms still twitching. Blood pooled in the sand.

  A fellow soldier rushed to his side. "Jesus Christ, Rudy! Is there anything I can do?"

  Rudy coughed, barely breathing. His guts spilled out onto the dirt. He reached up weakly. "L-let me call my dad..."

  Somewhere, through the static of the radio, Rudy heard his father’s voice. "Goddamnit... I’m glad you had a brother, Rudy. God. Damnit."

  War is hell.

  Rudy wheezed, eyes glazing over. His final thought drifted to an alternate life, one where he wasn’t in pieces on a desert floor.

  "I wish I had took up football."

  Rudy died.

  They didn’t make a movie about him.

  Because he was a fucking loser from Indiana