SpazTheButcher
The Warrior-Poet
Howdy Y'all!
Thank you for visiting. This here is my general page for my writing works, which vary.
Almost all of what I write revolve around my man, Ray Person, who is not one being, but instead represents sung and unsung heros from all generations, cultures, and ways of life. He is everywhere, and no where. One day he could be a firefighter from Chicago in the biggest blaze of his life, to a combat pilot in Vietnam. Of course I will post my original works, but sometimes I need help gettin' inspired, which is why I am here. If you have any suggestions for a short story for Ray, or a particular unsung hero you want recognized, just hit me up here and I will do my absolute best. Of course I recommend readin' what I already have to get a feel for my writing, which is featured below. Any additional stories I write will be featured up here as well.
Happy Trails and Good Readin'!
Thank you for visiting. This here is my general page for my writing works, which vary.
Almost all of what I write revolve around my man, Ray Person, who is not one being, but instead represents sung and unsung heros from all generations, cultures, and ways of life. He is everywhere, and no where. One day he could be a firefighter from Chicago in the biggest blaze of his life, to a combat pilot in Vietnam. Of course I will post my original works, but sometimes I need help gettin' inspired, which is why I am here. If you have any suggestions for a short story for Ray, or a particular unsung hero you want recognized, just hit me up here and I will do my absolute best. Of course I recommend readin' what I already have to get a feel for my writing, which is featured below. Any additional stories I write will be featured up here as well.
Happy Trails and Good Readin'!
Ray had been driving down the road for a while now, nothing particular driving him, and no destination in mind. The radio was cranked up, and the song playing was “The End”, by The Doors. It was about 9:30 pm when his phone buzzed and chimed with the old fire alert. Ray pulled over and fumbled with it, reading the message. STRUCTURAL FIRE, 213 HARDING AVE, ENGINES 52 and 51, MEDICAL 302, AND LADDER 45 RESPONDING. Ray knew the location, and he stepped on the gas. As Ray arrived on the scene he was greeted by police cars, cones, and tape blocking both ends of the road. He pulled over and grabbed bunker gear from the trunk of his car. He pulled on his boots, pants, jacket, and plopped his helmet onto his head.
He walked past the cops and approached the Captain, who was directing the Engines and Ladder truck to the nearest hydrants, and it wasn’t until now that Ray looked at the building. It was a 6 story apartment complex, the top floor being engulfed in flames and the lower floors being flashed with the red and white lights from the trucks. The Captain saw Ray immediately and yelled towards him. “Grab an SCBA(Self Contained Breathing Apparatus) and see the El Tee!”
Ray ran towards Engine 52 and opened up the side compartment, pulling on the bottle and letting the airflow into his mask. He walked over to where a few other guys were gathering near the pumps operator’s station and clipped his ID to a chain, alongside six others.
The engineer on duty nodded towards him, and Ray gathered with the other six guys wearing bottles, the Lieutenant already laying down the plan, “The guys on 51 and 45 were gracious enough today to stay out here in the relatively safe position of pumping water,” two guys chuckled, “So, that means we get the grunt work. Ramirez and Johnson, you two evacuate the first two floors, working up. Phillips and I will get the next two, working down. Ray, Rodgers, and Chunks. You guys got the top floors, we think there may be one or two people left up there. Once we clear our sections, we’ll rally with you guys. Got it? Let’s roll boys.” Everyone nodded, and Ray looked over at Rodgers and the man they called Chunks. He still didn’t get the nickname, but that was for a later time. Rodgers and Chunks grabbed a skyline kit, and Ray grabbed the halligan and ax, which were strapped together.
Ray was happy that he wasn’t carrying the skyline kit, which was everything they needed for “interior firefighting”. In most large buildings, there are water pumps in the center that in the event of a fire, a department can hook up to and fight the fire from inside. Ramirez’s team and the Lieutenant's team were already inside, so Ray put a chock in the door behind them to keep the fire from being fed air. They clamored up the first four flights of stairs, and by the time they hit the 5th floor, Ray was winded. He tried the door, and surprise surprise, it was locked. Ray put the ax down and put the halligan between him and the door. Ray put his weight into it and the door opened up, hot air rushing into Ray’s face.
Ray’s radio chirped in the background as he began calling out, “Fire Department, call out if you hear us,” while Chunks and Rodgers set up the hoses. From the third door on the right, a young man came rushing out, and Ray sent him downstairs. “One coming out”, he said into his radio. After he checked on all the rooms, he called out to Rodgers, “You guys set up down there?”
“Yessir.” Chunks said, coming down the hall with a hose over their shoulders and extinguishers in free hands. Ray grabbed an extinguisher, a halligan, and his ax as they went to the top floor. They nodded to him and Ray cracked open the door, the temperature significantly hotter. The back half of the floor was filled with flames, while the rooms closer were filled with smoke.
“Fire department, call out if you hear us!” As Ray flicked on his helmet and survival light,
Chunks and Rodgers opened up the nozzle and water doused the flames closest to them. Help. The voice was muffled, but Ray swore he heard the word. “Is anybody in here?”
“Help!” The words were barely audible, but Ray could tell where they were coming from… the far side of the building.
“Let’s go guys!” They fought back the fire, moving towards the voice as it continued to call out. “Listen, keep talking to us, we’re coming for you, alright?”
“The flames, they’re getting closer! Please help me!”
“Just remain calm, okay? We’ll get you out of here.” Ray found the apartment where the yells were coming from, and hit the burning door with his ax, chopping at it until they could get through. The room was seemingly covered in a thin sheet of flames, with the kitchen counter, the walls, and the couch all burning. He used the extinguisher to make a path through the room and came upon the bedroom, where the bed was covered in flames and he found the victim. “We’ll get you out of here okay!” As he approached the woman though, he noticed her left arm and leg were covered in deep burns and she was now unresponsive. “Damn!” he spoke into his radio, “Cap, this is Ray, we have a female, mid-twenties, unconscious and covered in burns. Bringing her down.”
“Advise Ray the building is burning up by the minute, grab her, and evac immediately.”
Ray put his radio onto its strap and picked up the girl with her arms over his left shoulder and her legs over his right. Chunks and Rodgers were clearing the way until the water stopped flowing. They both fumbled with the nozzle, and couldn’t get the hose to work. Chunks grabbed the halligan and ax and Rodgers grabbed the extinguisher, and the second they entered the hallway they found the problem. The walls of the hallway were covered in flames, and the floor was only slightly better. The hose must’ve caught on fire and was now spitting water everywhere and was flooding the floor. The water made a small pathway through the fire, and the darkness created by the smoke was cut by Ray’s helmet light and survival light.
Rodgers used the extinguisher to clear a path through the fire, with Ray in the middle and Chunks bringing up the rear. They got to the door to the stairs, but then there was a crash, and Ray spun around to find Chunks trapped under a collapsed and burning part of the ceiling. Rodgers ran to his side and tried to lift the main pillar pinning him down, while the trapped man screamed in pain. As Rodgers tried to free him, Chunks' SCBA bottle began making a noise familiar to any firefighter: the steady beeps of an SCBA alarm, alerting anyone in the vicinity of a firefighter who isn’t moving. Ray tried to click his radio to alert the Captain, but Rodgers beat him to it. “We got a man down on the top floor! We need guys up here stat!”
“No can do Rodgers, we evaced the building, you guys need to get out of there. Or that rescue is going to turn into a recovery.”
Rodgers swore. “I’ll get Chunks out. You get her out of here Ray.” Ray was too busy to argue and entered the staircase. The two floors below him were burning, and Ray darkly thought about how he was in the middle of a burning sandwich. As if to inform him that his luck had run dry, Ray's SCBA bottle beeped. Ray put the girl down, propping her against the wall, and checked his bottle’s pressure. 5 minutes. He picked her back up and tried to go down the stairs, but the flames raged and he was forced into the fourth floor’s hallway. He set her down and looked around, trying to think of a way to escape. As he tried to come up with a plan and looked about, he noticed water running down his helmet’s visor. Ray looked up to see a small hole in the ceiling leaking water, and before he could react, the floor above burst like a balloon and collapsed on top of him. Ray, now pinned, looked down at his chest, and was surprised to find that the pain in his chest was from a pillar that had impaled him. Somewhere in the background as his vision began to fade to black, Ray heard the SCBA chime, now multiplied by three.
He walked past the cops and approached the Captain, who was directing the Engines and Ladder truck to the nearest hydrants, and it wasn’t until now that Ray looked at the building. It was a 6 story apartment complex, the top floor being engulfed in flames and the lower floors being flashed with the red and white lights from the trucks. The Captain saw Ray immediately and yelled towards him. “Grab an SCBA(Self Contained Breathing Apparatus) and see the El Tee!”
Ray ran towards Engine 52 and opened up the side compartment, pulling on the bottle and letting the airflow into his mask. He walked over to where a few other guys were gathering near the pumps operator’s station and clipped his ID to a chain, alongside six others.
The engineer on duty nodded towards him, and Ray gathered with the other six guys wearing bottles, the Lieutenant already laying down the plan, “The guys on 51 and 45 were gracious enough today to stay out here in the relatively safe position of pumping water,” two guys chuckled, “So, that means we get the grunt work. Ramirez and Johnson, you two evacuate the first two floors, working up. Phillips and I will get the next two, working down. Ray, Rodgers, and Chunks. You guys got the top floors, we think there may be one or two people left up there. Once we clear our sections, we’ll rally with you guys. Got it? Let’s roll boys.” Everyone nodded, and Ray looked over at Rodgers and the man they called Chunks. He still didn’t get the nickname, but that was for a later time. Rodgers and Chunks grabbed a skyline kit, and Ray grabbed the halligan and ax, which were strapped together.
Ray was happy that he wasn’t carrying the skyline kit, which was everything they needed for “interior firefighting”. In most large buildings, there are water pumps in the center that in the event of a fire, a department can hook up to and fight the fire from inside. Ramirez’s team and the Lieutenant's team were already inside, so Ray put a chock in the door behind them to keep the fire from being fed air. They clamored up the first four flights of stairs, and by the time they hit the 5th floor, Ray was winded. He tried the door, and surprise surprise, it was locked. Ray put the ax down and put the halligan between him and the door. Ray put his weight into it and the door opened up, hot air rushing into Ray’s face.
Ray’s radio chirped in the background as he began calling out, “Fire Department, call out if you hear us,” while Chunks and Rodgers set up the hoses. From the third door on the right, a young man came rushing out, and Ray sent him downstairs. “One coming out”, he said into his radio. After he checked on all the rooms, he called out to Rodgers, “You guys set up down there?”
“Yessir.” Chunks said, coming down the hall with a hose over their shoulders and extinguishers in free hands. Ray grabbed an extinguisher, a halligan, and his ax as they went to the top floor. They nodded to him and Ray cracked open the door, the temperature significantly hotter. The back half of the floor was filled with flames, while the rooms closer were filled with smoke.
“Fire department, call out if you hear us!” As Ray flicked on his helmet and survival light,
Chunks and Rodgers opened up the nozzle and water doused the flames closest to them. Help. The voice was muffled, but Ray swore he heard the word. “Is anybody in here?”
“Help!” The words were barely audible, but Ray could tell where they were coming from… the far side of the building.
“Let’s go guys!” They fought back the fire, moving towards the voice as it continued to call out. “Listen, keep talking to us, we’re coming for you, alright?”
“The flames, they’re getting closer! Please help me!”
“Just remain calm, okay? We’ll get you out of here.” Ray found the apartment where the yells were coming from, and hit the burning door with his ax, chopping at it until they could get through. The room was seemingly covered in a thin sheet of flames, with the kitchen counter, the walls, and the couch all burning. He used the extinguisher to make a path through the room and came upon the bedroom, where the bed was covered in flames and he found the victim. “We’ll get you out of here okay!” As he approached the woman though, he noticed her left arm and leg were covered in deep burns and she was now unresponsive. “Damn!” he spoke into his radio, “Cap, this is Ray, we have a female, mid-twenties, unconscious and covered in burns. Bringing her down.”
“Advise Ray the building is burning up by the minute, grab her, and evac immediately.”
Ray put his radio onto its strap and picked up the girl with her arms over his left shoulder and her legs over his right. Chunks and Rodgers were clearing the way until the water stopped flowing. They both fumbled with the nozzle, and couldn’t get the hose to work. Chunks grabbed the halligan and ax and Rodgers grabbed the extinguisher, and the second they entered the hallway they found the problem. The walls of the hallway were covered in flames, and the floor was only slightly better. The hose must’ve caught on fire and was now spitting water everywhere and was flooding the floor. The water made a small pathway through the fire, and the darkness created by the smoke was cut by Ray’s helmet light and survival light.
Rodgers used the extinguisher to clear a path through the fire, with Ray in the middle and Chunks bringing up the rear. They got to the door to the stairs, but then there was a crash, and Ray spun around to find Chunks trapped under a collapsed and burning part of the ceiling. Rodgers ran to his side and tried to lift the main pillar pinning him down, while the trapped man screamed in pain. As Rodgers tried to free him, Chunks' SCBA bottle began making a noise familiar to any firefighter: the steady beeps of an SCBA alarm, alerting anyone in the vicinity of a firefighter who isn’t moving. Ray tried to click his radio to alert the Captain, but Rodgers beat him to it. “We got a man down on the top floor! We need guys up here stat!”
“No can do Rodgers, we evaced the building, you guys need to get out of there. Or that rescue is going to turn into a recovery.”
Rodgers swore. “I’ll get Chunks out. You get her out of here Ray.” Ray was too busy to argue and entered the staircase. The two floors below him were burning, and Ray darkly thought about how he was in the middle of a burning sandwich. As if to inform him that his luck had run dry, Ray's SCBA bottle beeped. Ray put the girl down, propping her against the wall, and checked his bottle’s pressure. 5 minutes. He picked her back up and tried to go down the stairs, but the flames raged and he was forced into the fourth floor’s hallway. He set her down and looked around, trying to think of a way to escape. As he tried to come up with a plan and looked about, he noticed water running down his helmet’s visor. Ray looked up to see a small hole in the ceiling leaking water, and before he could react, the floor above burst like a balloon and collapsed on top of him. Ray, now pinned, looked down at his chest, and was surprised to find that the pain in his chest was from a pillar that had impaled him. Somewhere in the background as his vision began to fade to black, Ray heard the SCBA chime, now multiplied by three.
He had always knew it would end like this. Surrounded. Cut off. Though surprisingly it was overseas like he expected. It wasn't at home, like he wanted, surrounded by family members who had watched him grow old. But was he ever truly home? He certainly did not feel like it. The world had... changed since he left. He scanned every room he entered for threats. Close friends pissed him off. Fireworks made him duck. And every time a helicopter flew around with just the right rotor pitch, he longed for an evac. He dreamed that one day, a red smoke marker would pop off and a Blackhawk would come and lift him away. But he knew it would never be that simple.
After a few years back home in New York state, Ray found himself appalled by the growing pop culture. Until he finally found his Blackhawk. He re-enlisted. Ray always knew that he could never live to be old, as Cypress Hill once said, "We ain't goin' out like that." He redeployed to Iraq for what Ray was sure would be his last time. Now was his moment. Fate found him and his squad pinned down by MGs, AKs, and an RPG. He knew that he wasn't gonna make it. The Doc Jones got hit first, luckily non-lethal, and then they radioed for a dustoff. But then their squad gunner, Reyes, took a round to the should, and then their RTO lost his leg. His squad began dropping like flies until Ray was the last one standing. They were all still alive, and Ray was intent on keeping them that way.
So Ray made his play, slinging his M4 and hefting the downed gunner's M249B, and began peppering the rooftops and windows. He held down the trigger, not planning on being around for the gun to overheat. The Helo's rotors were close now, and Ray knew he had to keep the squad from getting wiped out. Whoever was flying the helicopter, Ray would have to buy that man a beer as it quickly and efficiently dodged rounds and rockets coming in from all angles. As the belt finally stopped feeding, Ray put the gun down and first picked up his RTO, Young. The wheels of the Blackhawk touched the ground and the door slid open, the corpsman inside waving Ray over. Ray set down Young, and went back out for the Doc. Up, there, down, back. Ray repeated the cycle over and over again.
Finally, he hefted Reyes over his shoulder, and jogged them back to the chopper, exhausted. Just as he set Reyes down, Ray felt a slight pain in his back. And then another. Ray looked down, and two dark red spots had formed through his vest, and began eating away at the fabric around it. He cocked his head confused, and then finally understood. Sounds were muted now, but Ray knew the chopper's corpsman was yelling at him, until finally someone pulled Ray onto the chopper as it took off. He used what strength he had left to lay himself against the back wall and stared into the chaos of Baghdad below.
It wasn't like he was told. His life didn't flash before his eyes. They were more like memories that came and went. He mostly ignored the work they were trying to do on his chest, and he thought back to his childhood. His father always told him he would never amount to anything. Classmates told him he was too scrawny. A teacher once remarked that him joining the military would be a waste of his life. But was it? He remembered building clinics, hospitals, and schools. He would often share his own water with civvies, and would give his last cold beer to a stranger. He remembered his first kill, and his last. His mind floated through every last man he had seen die before him, friend and foe. And he knew every name of every man who had died with him. A few names in particular came. Sergeant Brad Colbert. Private First Class Michael Richardson. Lance Corporal James Hamilton. They all came back to him now.
Then he asked himself, Do I get to go home? Does a man like me get to go to Heaven? His eyelids began to grow heavy, and as he closed his eyes one final thought was in his brain, Do murderers get to go home? But his mouth betrayed him. The last breath to exit his mouth carried his last message, "Everyone goes home."
* * *
Corporal Sarah Reyes stood at attention in the dusty field at FOB Hammer. Her arm was bandaged from the elbow and below. Only a few hours ago, her helicopter landed and she was able to thank the pilot, a nice woman by the name of Jacqueline, who offered her a cigarette. Reyes obliged. She now stood in this field with the entire Battalion at attention. She heard the Battalion Commander's words.
"First Sergeant, roll call."
The First Sergeant snapped to attention, "Hospitalman Richard Jones."
"Here First Sergeant"
"Private First Class Jackson Young."
"Here First Sergeant"
"Corporal Sarah Reyes"
Every part of her wanted to cry out, wanted to burst out sobbing. But she was a Marine, and as the tears welled up in her eyes, she proudly said, "Here First Sergeant."
"Gunnery Sergeant Ray Person." The dreaded silence filled the air. "Gunnery Sergeant Ray Person." Reyes heard the volleys fire, and tears streamed down her eyes. All she could think of was Ray's decision to extend his tour only one week ago.
After a few years back home in New York state, Ray found himself appalled by the growing pop culture. Until he finally found his Blackhawk. He re-enlisted. Ray always knew that he could never live to be old, as Cypress Hill once said, "We ain't goin' out like that." He redeployed to Iraq for what Ray was sure would be his last time. Now was his moment. Fate found him and his squad pinned down by MGs, AKs, and an RPG. He knew that he wasn't gonna make it. The Doc Jones got hit first, luckily non-lethal, and then they radioed for a dustoff. But then their squad gunner, Reyes, took a round to the should, and then their RTO lost his leg. His squad began dropping like flies until Ray was the last one standing. They were all still alive, and Ray was intent on keeping them that way.
So Ray made his play, slinging his M4 and hefting the downed gunner's M249B, and began peppering the rooftops and windows. He held down the trigger, not planning on being around for the gun to overheat. The Helo's rotors were close now, and Ray knew he had to keep the squad from getting wiped out. Whoever was flying the helicopter, Ray would have to buy that man a beer as it quickly and efficiently dodged rounds and rockets coming in from all angles. As the belt finally stopped feeding, Ray put the gun down and first picked up his RTO, Young. The wheels of the Blackhawk touched the ground and the door slid open, the corpsman inside waving Ray over. Ray set down Young, and went back out for the Doc. Up, there, down, back. Ray repeated the cycle over and over again.
Finally, he hefted Reyes over his shoulder, and jogged them back to the chopper, exhausted. Just as he set Reyes down, Ray felt a slight pain in his back. And then another. Ray looked down, and two dark red spots had formed through his vest, and began eating away at the fabric around it. He cocked his head confused, and then finally understood. Sounds were muted now, but Ray knew the chopper's corpsman was yelling at him, until finally someone pulled Ray onto the chopper as it took off. He used what strength he had left to lay himself against the back wall and stared into the chaos of Baghdad below.
It wasn't like he was told. His life didn't flash before his eyes. They were more like memories that came and went. He mostly ignored the work they were trying to do on his chest, and he thought back to his childhood. His father always told him he would never amount to anything. Classmates told him he was too scrawny. A teacher once remarked that him joining the military would be a waste of his life. But was it? He remembered building clinics, hospitals, and schools. He would often share his own water with civvies, and would give his last cold beer to a stranger. He remembered his first kill, and his last. His mind floated through every last man he had seen die before him, friend and foe. And he knew every name of every man who had died with him. A few names in particular came. Sergeant Brad Colbert. Private First Class Michael Richardson. Lance Corporal James Hamilton. They all came back to him now.
Then he asked himself, Do I get to go home? Does a man like me get to go to Heaven? His eyelids began to grow heavy, and as he closed his eyes one final thought was in his brain, Do murderers get to go home? But his mouth betrayed him. The last breath to exit his mouth carried his last message, "Everyone goes home."
* * *
Corporal Sarah Reyes stood at attention in the dusty field at FOB Hammer. Her arm was bandaged from the elbow and below. Only a few hours ago, her helicopter landed and she was able to thank the pilot, a nice woman by the name of Jacqueline, who offered her a cigarette. Reyes obliged. She now stood in this field with the entire Battalion at attention. She heard the Battalion Commander's words.
"First Sergeant, roll call."
The First Sergeant snapped to attention, "Hospitalman Richard Jones."
"Here First Sergeant"
"Private First Class Jackson Young."
"Here First Sergeant"
"Corporal Sarah Reyes"
Every part of her wanted to cry out, wanted to burst out sobbing. But she was a Marine, and as the tears welled up in her eyes, she proudly said, "Here First Sergeant."
"Gunnery Sergeant Ray Person." The dreaded silence filled the air. "Gunnery Sergeant Ray Person." Reyes heard the volleys fire, and tears streamed down her eyes. All she could think of was Ray's decision to extend his tour only one week ago.
