A/n: I do not own The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton nor do I own The Needle and the Damage Done by Neil Young. Enjoy :)

I caught you knockin'
At my cellar door
I love you, baby,
Can I have some more
Ooh, ooh, the damage done.

When we got transferred to base camp, it was a paradise compared to the rice paddies. These guys in the back don't know what it's like out there. One son of a bitch had the balls to say that it couldn't be that bad. Needless to say, I nearly decked the kid. "Not that bad," my ass. When you're a grunt you don't matter. LBJ sends you out to war as soon as you turn that magic number and then you're screwed for life. If I ever get back, I ain't gonna have no future. I graduated high school and then I was sent to a country I'd never even heard of before. I know I don't have too much of a future anyway, but least I'd have a better chance at one with out Vietnam. This war makes you do some fucked up things, I'll tell you that.

Every gook I see, I want him dead. I saw Victor kill my best buddy when he didn't even have a weapon. Jimmy was his name and he was going home in two weeks; Jimmy had a chance of making something of himself when he got home. That bastard took it away from him. So I hate gooks at first glance and I want to kill every one of the I see just because of what they did to Jimmy. Maybe that sounds harsh but it ain't. Nothing's too harsh after you've seen what I have.

At the base camp, they have one thing that they do to pass the time. Marijuana and smack thrive here and it gets passed around all over the bases. I'm a little hesitant on doing smack because of the stories I've heard, but weed is great; that feeling of relaxation is amazing. It's something you can't get any other time in this damn country. But even I know when it's a bad time to do it. You've got to be out of your head to do it before you're going on patrol. I learned that the hard way; but I'll get to that later. You always want to be in some right state of mind before going out there, otherwise you're barley prepared for when Charlie might come; not that we ever are, really.

There are a few reasons that smack really scares me. They call it suicide smack sometimes and I can see why. This one guy, Billy Kempner, snapped a few weeks ago. A lot of it was stress that was building on him and he finally just snapped under it. He went out, stoned out of his mind, into the middle of a minefield. Just like that, Kemp was dead. No warnings, no goodbyes. Makes you realize just what this place does to a guy, huh? The funny thing about Kemp was that he was a lot like Soda. He was happy-go-lucky and all and people always liked him. But he just couldn't take the pressure … so he killed himself. I hope that don't happen to Soda. As soon as I get home, we're going out with every broad on the east side of Tulsa. I'm gonna show him a real good time … Damnit, I deserve a good time after all of this.

Some guys purposely go for section eights. They'll pretend to snap … or maybe they ain't acting …. Some of them will throw themselves in front of MG fire or anything, really. Some will go Kemp's route and make it one last thrill to end it all. I remember the last time I saw old Kempner was in our bunker around three or four in the afternoon. We had nothing to do, so we just sat around talking. That's when Kemp pulled out a stash of weed. I left an hour later for patrol and I'll never do it again. Like I said, going out on patrol while you're stoned ain't a smart thing. I nearly got killed by stepping into enemy fire … dumb luck is why I'm not just like old Kempner.

I didn't see Kemp until the next day and we talked some. He had a fiance back home that he didn't think loved him anymore; his old man didn't like him too much, his mom was worried. The typical shit. But Kemp snapped. I should have noticed it then from how he was talking but some things don't make much sense until after you've seen it happen. Kemp was snapping from day one.

After he died, I really didn't have anyone to talk to so I started to smoke weed every chance I got. I'm telling you, it's some great stuff, but if you want to know the truth, the high is becoming less thrilling. It was great at the beginning, but now it's just become the same old thing. We don't get much booze here unless it's the real cheap stuff … it always is in 'Nam. Thrills are done by drugs, otherwise the boredom of war will drive you nuts. I've seen both sides of war; from the front and back and I don't prefer either. I'd much rather be back in the World, but I'd never be so lucky.

I'm telling you, after a while that needle starts to look a lot like your friend. It's your only way back to the outside world; an outside world within your own mind. After some time, the needle starts to look real nice and smoking it doesn't seem so bad. I'm still scared of it, but I'm even more afraid of going crazy by the boredom of the war. I prefer the rush over sitting there with nothing to do.


I've seen the needle
And the damage done
A little part of it in everyone
But every junkie's
Like a setting sun.