Shooting Stars
You know, one thing those documentaries never can catch about Vietnam are how clear the pure the night sky was. You see, back in America, in the cities such as New York and Miami, there were all sorts of lights whether they were street lamps or neon signs for the hottest bar in town; but these lights always blocked out the stars, but not in Vietnam. There were no bars with flashing neon signs out in the jungle, and if there were, chances are they were underground and owned by Charlie. Hell, there weren't even street lamps out here. So that meant that the stars were as visible as ever, I remember how sometimes, on patrol, some of us would just take a few moments to look up into the night sky. The tranquility and beauty helping some of us forget about the war for a few moments, maybe even let us think we were home. It was peace that we desperately longed for at times.
Was this risky behavior? Of course it was! Hell, in the time we took to look up at the sky, the NVA or Viet Cong could have snuck and entire battalion right through the middle of our formation and we would have been none the wiser to it. But we didn't care in those moments, what we cared about was sitting on the porches of our homes, cracking open a cold beer, talking to our dads about how shitty work was today or how our friends got embarrassed by some random girl. The war was a rather taboo subject on the home front, something that people like us didn't like to talk about, sure news outlets and protesters brought it up 24/7, but most of us never really interacted with them. Instead, we'd talk about how some random dumbass had fallen asleep during basic training and got chewed out by one of the Drill Sergeants. Fun stories, ones that we could tell without having to be over there.
One story of mine is actually a deep one that really affected me during my time there. It, of course, was during basic training as a lot of military stories are. I had enlisted right after high school to the dismay of my parents, as they had wanted me to go to college and avoid the war altogether, the war was only just starting out, the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution having just passed. This meant that I'd by the time I finished basic training, I would be among some of the first troops sent to Vietnam. It was Sunday, meaning that we were to spend all day either going to church or cleaning our barracks which usually gave our Drill Sergeants excuses to have the entire company perform Physical Training. We were all standing on the grass, now was church time, so we were waiting in formation for buses to take us to church. We all stood there, the heat unforgivingly beating down on all of us as it seemed like days before the buses arrived.
"Alright! Line up in a single file column and get on the bus in an orderly fashion! If you are a Jew, fall out!" The Drill Sergeant in front of us barked out like a rabid dog. Slowly and unsurely, two of the cadets fell out.
"God damn Corporal! Are you seeing this?"
The corporal next to the Drill Sergeant nodded.
"Aside from the two of you, get on the bus the rest of you!"
The Drill Sergeant barked again, almost as if brainwashed, all of us started shuffling onto the bus until we all heard a lone voice cry out, asking What if you don't believe in god?
All of us stopped where we were.
We were all standing outside now, outside the bus, our eyes discreetly glued on the lone recruit that asked the question. The drill sergeant hovered over to the recruit, half of us expecting either just that recruit or all of us being told to get in the Front Leaning Rest Position. A damn idealist! I thought to myself, This is war! There is no need for these damned idealists! It's kill or be killed! No time to think!
"What did you say?"
The drill sergeant asked, a rising intensity found within his voice as he stood in front of that recruit, towering over him, threatening to fully devour him.
"W-What if you don't believe in god?"
Asked the now frail, somewhat cowering recruit, the shakiness in his voice more present than ever now. Our drill sergeant stood there for a few moments, unknown as to whether or not he was either calming down or just getting more and more angry. It was like time itself froze until the drill sergeant spoke up again, giving the recruit this sort of glance that showed understanding. That showed an unusual calmness. His voice was now barely above a whisper as he simply said to the cadet You will. You just will.
The recruit fell back in the formation as the drill sergeant glanced over at us, his intensity skyrocketing back up.
"What are you ladies doing?!"
Cried the drill sergeant.
"Get in this goddamn bus or else I will PT you until Jesus H. Christ himself can't even recognize your sorry asses!"
The drill sergeant aggressively declared as we all hurried into the bus. Including that one recruit that didn't believe in god.
There were no more questions pertaining to god for the rest of bootcamp. For a while, I was left confused, never really sure what the drill sergeant meant. It wouldn't be until my first firefight that I would know what he meant, the fear that came from the screeching of bullets. The distant roars of explosions. Cowering under a tree, hugging my M16 like a little child hugging their mother after a nightmare did I understand it. You see, it's situations like those, the ones where everything is thrown out the window, that you turn to god. You sit there, asking for his protection, to let you go home, it's the desperation of war that turns a man to god; the fear in war that makes a man pray.
Maybe that's why when, on patrol, if we all ever see a shooting star. We'd just stand there, closing our eyes and making a wish. It was the uncertainty, or the need for certainty. The need for us to know who was going to die who would be going home.
You see, the thing is about war is that the killing is terrible, yes, but it isn't the worst part about it. No, time passes and you become desentized to all that. The worst part is the uncertainty, the randomness and unpredictability of war that's the terrible part. Lying on a cot in the middle of a jungle, closing your eyes, wondering whether or not you'll get to open them again. That's the most terrifying part of war. That's why we need miracles. That's why we need shooting stars.
