Free Stark's Crusade by John G. Hemry

a new assignment, well, that's your right. I know you got a lot of friends waiting. Hope so, anyway."
    "But if you want to fight a little longer, if you wanta come back, I'll be here. I'll help any way I can. I wish I could do more. I wish I knew for sure what you wanted." Murphy's face didn't alter, except for the slow, even movements caused by his breathing. "Just like everything else in life, I guess. Just gotta do whatever we think is best and hope it's right." He touched one arm gently, as if afraid the limb would break under a firmer pressure. "Get your rest, soldier."
    Stark stood as quietly as he could, as if Murphy were merely sleeping and shouldn't be disturbed, then walked carefully to where the medic had waited at a respectful distance.
    "Any luck?" she asked, her voice hushed.
    "No. You didn't expect me to have any, did you?"
    "No. But miracles happen sometimes. If I didn't believe in the occasional miracle, there's a lot of times I'd just throw up my hands and give up. Instead, I keep trying, even when common sense says there's no hope."
    Stark fashioned a crooked half-smile. "That's people, ain't it? We just keep trying. Maybe we're just stubborn. Doc?"
    "Yes?"
    "You think there's someplace else? You know, Heaven or whatever? A better place?"
    "I sure hope so. The only ones who know for sure can't talk about it to us."
    "Yeah." Stark brooded, his eyes still fixed on Murphy. "I wonder, though. If we think there's a great place waiting for us, and all those people who're gone now are waiting there, too, how come we fight so hard to stay alive? How come we don't give up? How come we fix up sick and injured people instead of lettin' 'em die and go there?"
    "Maybe because we don't know, and can't know, for sure. Maybe because people always hate change, even good change. Maybe just because we don't want to leave behind the people and places in this world. Or maybe whoever's running things designed humans to want to stay here as long as possible."
    "That'd fit, wouldn't it? But why would anyone make humans want to stay here where it's so easy to make bad choices, where people can get hurt and can hurt other people? That seems kinda cruel. Why do that? What's the point in making us stay here as long as we can?"
    "Maybe we're supposed to be learning something while we're here."
    Stark stood silent for a moment, then nodded. "Huh. Makes sense. It sounds like you've thought about it."
    "You watch enough people die and it sort of comes naturally."
    "Let me know if anything changes, okay?"
    "Sure. I'll keep an eye on him."
    Stark walked slowly away, glancing back just before the curtain fell to block his view. The medic stood beside Murphy's bed, hands resting on the grab rail, her shoulders bent as if under a burden, her head lowered. Somehow Stark knew her eyes would be even wearier than usual.
     
    Artillery dropped shells all around as small arms fire raked the exposed position occupied by the dwindling force of American troops. Private Ethan Stark, clinging to the dirt as if he could somehow will himself beneath it for protection, shuddered in time to the almost constant vibrations of explosions. Before his eyes, battered stalks of grass trembled, their torn stems spotted with blood.
    The soldier to Stark's right turned her head, looking straight at him. Corporal Stein, Stark's mentor and the closest he'd ever had to a big sister. But she was glaring in anger now, not at the enemy, but at him. "You really screwed up this time, didn't you, Stark?" Somehow the words came to him clearly despite the thunder of battle.
    "Kate? Whadayya mean? How'd I screw up?"
    "You led us here, didn't you? Trapped us here." Stark, already severely stressed by combat, wanted to scream in frustration at the unfairness of the accusation. "I'm not in charge, damnit! This isn't my fault!" Something was wrong. Stark gazed outward, where the tree line from which the enemy had been firing had somehow vanished, been replaced by barren ridges. The