I’m not too sure if I mentioned one of the more important factors before. Well, important isn’t the best word I would use; more like torturing. That’s about it, one of the more important torture factors. It was always there, always coming up at the worst times, combat or not. It was the rain, and it fell out of the sky more often than our own bombs, and to greater effect.
Actually, I do think I mentioned it before; allow me to thoroughly ram it in. Sorry if it seems repetitive, but that damned water. At first it was just another annoyance, another irritating attribute in the second war we were waging against the local environment. But it became so much more than that, it was symbolic off all the trouble I was having. Whenever it rained, it felt like it was connected to my misfortune. I had plenty of trouble through the war, and there were plenty of storms that came with it.
Of course, that idea had to start somewhere. I remember where it started, exactly when and where and what. After the fight we had in La Drang, I thought that we’d seen all there was to see, that we were experienced, ready; I came to realize…that you’d never see everything, never. You can get numb to death, get used to the war life, but something’s always waiting around the corner that will get the jump on you, something you wouldn’t expect; if it hits hard enough, it’ll transform any man back into a scared little boy. Sure, the experience helps to…ease the impact, maybe lessen the number of occurrences; but that idea of the perfect, un-killable vet seems for not. All men are different, but we’re all still men.
“Hurry up and get inside, Terry,” Pvt. Silver complained. “I’m getting soaked here.”
It was rather unfortunate that Silver was the last in line, or maybe it was just bad luck; those can be different, you know. Unfortunate feels like you can’t do anything about something bad that happens, like fate; bad luck is just…well…bad luck. Someone just sort of picks the short straw.
“Damn, finally,” he continued as he entered the M113. “I’m gettin’ real sick of this rain, Sergeant.”
“Got a plan to stop it, Silver?” I asked.
“Yea, it’s called ‘get the hell out of it’; from now on, I want something solid over me.”
“There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Says the guy who doesn’t look like he got thrown into a pool. And they expect us to fight like this?”
“Charlie doesn’t mind.”
“Then he won’t mind if we start raining bombs on their heads,” he snarled. “When the hell are those planes going to go all out on the North, huh? They’re taking forever to get their act together.”
“Brass is being a little picky about which targets to bomb,” Bishop replied. “They don’t want to hit anything too sensitive.”
“It’s a war, why the hell are they being restrictive?”
“Don’t know; let’s just focus on our job right now.”
Our job was the same every day, killing the bad guys; though exactly how we did it changed from day to day. The work environment changed, too; with a pouring rainstorm adding its mix to the usual misery. But, a war rarely stops for anything or anyone; much less a little weather.
It was just another reaction patrol, sent out in response to the VC bombarding our base again. It was something we’d become accustomed to. The base starts to get hit, and we’d go out to find who’s shooting at us and take care of them. We had become masters at it; our kill count began to rack up a good bit when we were out hunting. The only difference was the rain, pouring down endlessly.
“You see anything?” I asked the gunner.
“Nothing yet.”
“Make sure to let us know when you do.”
“I know, man; this isn’t my first patrol.”
“Just making sure,” I said.
I didn’t feel like talking with the guys much at that moment, for some reason. I was just content to day-dream while starring at the floor of the carrier, thinking about what was going on back home, or what I was going to do when we got back to the base. The only noise in the world seemed to be the engine of the carrier and the water drops falling onto the metal hull; everything else seemed distant.
“Heads up, I think we’re nearing the rocket position.”
Usually the base would be bombarded with mortars, but those small rockets could be used, too. Didn’t take much to use, either; just needed to set them up on a little stand and get some batteries with a little juice in them, usually abandoned radios. Point them in the general direction of the target and send them flying; thank God they weren’t accurate.
“Yea, you see that?” the gunner asked the driver.
“No, what?”
“Rocket launching.”
“Sure about that?”
“Positive, over to the left.”
“Ok, boys, dismount and head over to your left,” the driver said.
We did as instructed, exiting the dry vehicle and entering the rain once again, falling just as hard as when we’d left.
“Aw damn it,” Silver sighed. “I was hoping it would’ve lightened up by now.”
“Faster we get this done, the faster we can get out of it,” I said.
“I know, but still. I’d rather be playing cards.”
“When’ve you ever wanted anything else, Gambler?”
“You’d be surprised,” he chuckled.
We got of the trail and into a rather light forest, light compared to what we had been in before. No enemy fire or movement, no traps going off as we moved; maybe that was good, maybe they didn’t know we were here. It would be hard to believe, seeing as how we had an APC taxi us here, but it was possible. We all knew it was possible, so we made as little noise as we could as we moved through, keeping a good spacing, but close enough to support each-other.
“Shit!” Corporal Davis, but still keeping his voice moderately low. “Oh…aw, damn…thing.”
“What is it?” Taylor asked.
“Movement, thought I saw something,” he said, breathing deeply and trying to re-gain control over himself. “Just a damn monkey, son of a-ugh…scared the hell out of me.”
“You ok?”
“Yea.”
His little scare had caused the whole squad to stop, but that was understandable; if it had been a real VC, then we would have been in trouble. Starting to move again, we marched forward a few more steps before we heard the distinct ‘whoosh’ of a rocket igniting. The sound made everyone drop to the jungle floor or take a knee in a combat stance; from where it was coming from, it was probably right in front of us.
I signaled for the squad to tighten up the formation and advance a bit closer, using my hands to keep the noise to a minimum. There was another salvo of rockets, this time very closer, and when the noise died away, we could hear Vietnamese. Another quick gesture and the guys halted, with the two Sergeants following me up some more.
Taking careful steps, I was the first to move aside some bushes and see what we were looking for. There were about ten or twenty Viet Cong in a field, working with the rockets. Some would set them up, others were busy with their own menial tasks; there were only two sentries on watch, both looking in the wrong direction.
It looked real good for us, downright beautiful. They really didn’t know we were here, that was a first for us. It felt a little too good to be true, but I didn’t question it. Now we would be the ones getting the jump on our enemies, we would have the surprise factor.
“What’re you thinking, Deer?” Benjamin asked to my right. “We’re taking them, right?”
“Yea, bring the guys up.”
“Right.”
He turned and waved his hand a bit, indicating the men to come forward.
“Think they’re just tricking us?” Sergeant Bishop asked me.
“Either way, we’re using what we’ve got to our advantage,” I said. “Wilson, get on the horn and ask for some air support; I would rather just blow these guys up without them knowing we’re here.”
“Can’t do, Staff Sergeant; weather’s too bad.”
“Damn it,” I said blankly, looking up at the jungle canopy and the falling water. “Doesn’t matter, we’ve still got the advantage.”
“What’s the plan?” Benjamin asked.
“Take your team and spread out on the left flank; Bishop you go right. Grenadiers, you see that little pile of rockets and ammo? Hit that first, it’ll stun them hopefully.”
“Got it,” Noriko assured me.
“Riflemen, they’ve got one officer; he’s the one in with a cap on, giving the orders.”
“Yea, we’ll take him,” Private Terry said. “Bet I can get him before you, Silver.”
“We’ll see about that,” he responded.
“Wilson, stay with me. Wait until everyone’s in position. And don’t fire until I do.”
The men did so, going off on their own ways and finding ideal firing spots. Wilson and I stayed where we were. He lay down on his stomach and crawled to a little firing spot between the bush and a large rock. I got up against a thick tree trunk to his right, looking over the targets.
“Wilson, you see the nearest sentry?”
“Yes sir, he’s looking near us. Why doesn’t he do something?”
We watched the sentry let out a deep yawn and shake his head; that was why he wasn’t paying attention.
“Ok, let’s both take him. You ready?”
“Yes sir.”
“Ok, on three,” I whispered. “One, two, three.”
My M16’s three-round burst sounded, along with Wilson’s M14 firing; both seemed to find their targets as the guard toppled backwards onto the ground. The rest of the attack followed shortly. The loud bang of the ammo cache’s explosion caused a shockwave that I could feel from where I was; though most of the VC were stunned as planned, some still returned fire. The officer turned around and immediately was hit on the upper right side of his skull and falling into the grass, showing that the kill went to Pvt. Terry.
We kept shooting, knowing we couldn’t let up and give them a chance to re-group. It was an intense amount of fire we were putting out, and I had to admit I was actually a little scared that my group of men could deal out such violence; impressed, proud, but still scared. The Riflemen kept shooting, the MGs kept shooting, the Grenadiers, me and Wilson. It was frantic, and though we were cutting down the enemy with little trouble, I realized that we were scared, just as the targets were; we were scared of what might happen if they started shooting back.
Eventually, the VC disappeared from sight, dead or running like crazy through the jungle. Some of the guys kept shooting, hitting some of the dead corpses on the ground. They must have thought that they were just prone Viet Cong still living.
“Cease fire!” I yelled, and everything stopped.
There was an uneasy quiet, and something didn’t fell quiet right…
“Man down!”
Oh no, oh… shit!
“Staff Sergeant! Sergeant! Silver’s down!”
I jumped up immediately and started running over to their position, disregarding the thoughts of a possible remaining enemy taking a shot at me. My thoughts were off on other subjects, mainly the Private. Where was he hit and how bad was it? How long would it take for a medic to get here? Damn, none of my guys had been hit before, what now?
I stopped as I reached Silver, still lying in the prone position he’d taken for the fight, the rest of his fireteam stood around him. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t making any noise; he just lay there, like in some peaceful sleep. My gun was hanging limp on my side in my hand, and I kneeled down to take a look.
I looked at his head first, being the logical start; that was where I found the problem. It had been one round, the only one necessary; one single lucky bullet hit. An AK round had hit him in the face in-between the eyes, running into his brain. There was no exit wound on the back, but it didn’t matter much. The blood was pouring out of the jagged hole, along with skull bone bits, and what I could only guess was the pinkish meat of his mind. That was too much, and I set him back down.
A medic wasn’t readily available, not that it would have mattered. The rest of the squad gathered around, just staring at the body or at each-other. I think we could all tell that he was gone; like, there was some kind of sense that told you someone’s soul had left their body.
We took care of everything else, giving a radio report and waiting until another group of soldiers had come in. We brought Silver’s body back to the APCs, with Bishop volunteering to carry it back. Me, I have to admit, I was quiet the entire time; I didn’t say anything more than necessary, and just stared up into the sky, up into the dark clouds and the falling rain.
Time slipped by carelessly, and everything that happened with it. It was night by the time we got back home, though the rain caused little in terms of a visual difference. The first thing I did was sit down in my bunk and go to bed; I didn’t know what else to do.
My eyes closed again, and again my mind ran images of the torments of the day. I remembered talking to Silver, his complaining about the rain, all the card games we played to pass the time. The picture of his dead body lying there stuck the most; the bloody face, the empty look in his eyes, and the rain falling down onto us as it happened.
But this time, there was no real fear; it was like I had passed a test or limit. The tenseness, the fear, the yelling and all; they didn’t come. All these things came, and all I felt was acceptance. This was what happened; this was how it would be.
I woke up again in town, this time on a couch in what looked like a library. I got up peacefully, and sat up, not saying anything. I noticed Twilight enter from the kitchen with tea, she looked happy to see me, though I can’t really say it was the same for me. It wasn’t that I was unhappy to see her, I just didn’t feel anything. My mind stayed on what had happened in Vietnam, what had happened to my friend. It was the first time my troubles followed me here.
“It’s good to see you again, John,” she said, taking a seat next to me and floating the drinks down onto a table. “You were asleep for a while on there.”
“Nice to see you, too,” I said, keeping my eyes to the wooden floor. “How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been ok. What about you?”
“Been better.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Ok,” she said. “Well, do you mind if we get to those questions we left off at? I don’t really know when you’ll disappear again.”
“Sure,” I murmured.
“Are you sure you are ok?” she asked again.
“Twilight, don’t.”
“Ok,” she said. “Well, I’ve been curious; what’s that war you’re fighting like?”
I was afraid she’d ask that at some point, but I wasn’t going to be holding back.
“It’s hell, simple as that.”
She seemed a bit confused by the blunt response.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because people are dying, my friends are dying, that’s the main thing.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, turning away for a bit and thinking of what to say. “I knew that war has dying in it, I mean I never was part of one… I just, wanted to know if there’s… more to it than that.”
“You guys don’t fight much around here, do you?” I asked.
“Not in a long time.”
“Well, there are plenty of factors that go into a war. You’re so far away from home, you run out of supplies now and again, and whatever terrain you’re fighting in is going to be bad. I’m stuck in a jungle, a thick, infected jungle. Bugs, snakes, and plants that can kill you alone; not to mention all the rain, it never stops.”
“Is constant rain an enemy tactic?”
“We don’t control the weather. Can’t fly, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “I can’t believe two groups would put themselves through all that just to kill each-other.”
“Well we do; do it all the time, in fact,” I said plainly. “Hell, we’ve always done it, probably always will. Maybe it was good that Silver died; he won’t have to deal with it anymore.”
“Silver? Was he a friend of yours?”
“Yea… he was.”
“How did he die?”
“Shot in the head by an unlucky round. Probably didn’t feel anything.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I could stand to see anyone dead, much less a close friend.”
“It becomes a normal sight,” I explained. “Like walking outside and seeing the sky. By the way, is it raining outside?”
“Yes, why?”
“Never mind,” I sighed.
“And your enemies have to fight in the same place? What do they think? What are they like?”
“They’re damned rats is how they fight, running around underground,” I said, my anger starting to come in a bit. “As for what they think, I don’t know, nor do I care. I’m there to kill them any way I can.”
She seemed rather surprised by my response.
“But, they’re humans like you. Doesn’t that make you feel… bad?”
“Hell no. They’re shooting us, we’re shooting back. They try to kill us, we try to kill them; it’s as simple as that.”
”It can’t be that simple!”
“It is, not much else to it. I’ll gun down every damned gook in the country if that’s what it takes to get me and my friends home.”
She gasped at me when I said this, and I had to admit I was a little surprised at how evil I sounded as well; I hadn’t felt like that before Silver died.
“That’s terrible!”
“It is indeed,” I replied plainly. “But, it’s also the way it is.”
“You might need help,” she said. “I’m going to write to the Princesses; maybe they can help you feel better.”
“Twilight, I don’t-”
I woke up again, rather simply this time. I just opened my eyes and laid there while, thinking. I felt… I can’t really explain. Enlightened, angry, understanding, and so much more. Things weren’t going to be the same after this; at least I thought so. It would be different, but the same. It was me that changed; I was cold, just like the rain.