Sergeant Jake Abernathy was three days and a wake-up away from the States and the last thing he needed was a green replacement screwing up his last patrol.
“Just stay close and keep your eyes peeled. I got a ‘hairs up on the back of my neck feelin’ and that’s never good.”
The goggle-eyed private whispered, “I don’t get it, Sarge. These weird outfits and the padre flingin’ Holy Water everywhere and…and…seriously, Sarge? They got us huntin’ vampires! Who the hell believes in vampires?”
“There’s plenty of weird stuff in these old villages, kid. HQ doesn’t send us out here for the fresh air and exercise. Now, pipe down.”
Off to the left, they heard snarling and screams and then Kowalski cutting loose with the B.A.R. The unmistakable ripsaw of Tommy guns joined in seconds later. Before Abernathy could get there, the muffled crump of a grenade ended the whole affair nicely.
The private was shaking and moaning as he helped hack the body to pieces. He looked to the old NCO for reassurance.
Abernathy spat tobacco juice and grunted, “It wasn’t the first time I’ve found one of those in there, kid. Now, hurry up...almost time for chow.”