Adrinne from Pixel.com
by Erik Cederblom
As our convoy of heavy vehicles rumbled along the narrow highway north of Saigon, we tossed unwanted tins of C-rations out the back of our truck—ham and limas, fruit cake, cheese spread—and whooped at the kids—bare feet, shorts, thin shirts—who darted in to claim their prizes. But one child, disoriented by the swirling, thick, red dust, disappeared beneath the crushing wheels of the following truck . . . and the trucks that followed. Our orders: “Stopped vehicles become targets. Stop for nothing!” I have always wondered, who told her mother? What words would I have whispered?
Erik Cederblom prefers the short form. He is grateful to the Iowa Review, Typishly, 50-Word Stories, and others for publishing some of his stories.
