George enjoyed spending time with his grandson. Even when it seemed boring...
George rocked back in his chair. He took a sip from his tea while he felt a worn silver lighter in his pocket. The old feeling of lighting a cigarette returned, but it quickly passed. He'd kicked the habit long ago.
His grandson, Derrick, played at his feet.
After a few minutes of toppling blocks, the six year old looked up. "There's nothing to do."
George's mind wandered to the jungle. A hail of bulltets rained down upon his buddy from a machine gun nest about 100 yards to their left. George dove behind a nearby boulder.
Danny cried out. "I've been hit!"
George mustered up his nerve, popped his head up and fired a few bursts into the nest. One of the gunners fell over, but the other took up the machine gun and ripped off another straffe. Bullets whizzed by George's ear as several richoceted off the boulder.
George ducked behind the rock again. He jammed another magazine in the M16. "Son of a bitches!" He yelled as he stood and emptied the clip. The gunner fired fiercely, but neither hit their target.
He looked over at Danny. He lay still. His eyes glazed over. Blood oozed out of his chest.
George peeked at the gunner. He grabbed a grenade and heaved it into the sandbags. The gunner leapt from the pit just before the grenade's thunderous explosion.
The gunner dipped and ducked through the jungle foliage and disappeared.
Danny gazed at George. "Thanks. At least you got him. Well, one of them anyways."
George slumped down. "Danny."
"I know. There's nothing to do." He stared at the now puddle forming beneath him. "Take this."
Danny held out a lighter.
George looked at his grandson. A tear pushed down his face.
"Perhaps. That's not so bad."