AN: Hello Everyone! Thank YOU ALL SO much for your constant support and reviews and follows! I appreciate it so much! :)
Warning: This is a war story. It was hell back then. It gets REALLY intense and scary. People get hurt here. I tried to keep it Rated T as much I could so its not as graphic but it is violent. A lot of research was done for this. I tried to do this part justice. If this bothers you, click out now. You have been warned.
We are back in the past with Dave and Kurt. I don't want to give so much away. So I'll let you all read. :) Please review. Please be kind.
Enjoy!
Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3
Chapter 7
Stifling heat. The kind of heat that makes fatigues into today's skinny jeans. You see spots and don't even want any alcohol. You can see waves in the air and mosquitoes are everywhere. You don't want anyone close to you, yet everyone's gear and guns are hip to hip – boots and saddles. Your helmet gets glued to your head and you want it off.
There's no escape from it.
They felt it right when they landed in the C-130 plane in Saigon. They'd be taking a chopper to somewhere else, but didn't know. And they didn't care. They all dreaded the big, dark, bay doors opening. That's when the heat would smash their senses.
"I still can't believe we're here."
Dave turned to see Kurt, staring almost fearfully at the doors.
"Looks like we are. And I'll never get used to riding in these coffins."
Kurt ignored the dark joke and for once, did not have a reply. Nervous chatter filled the air as some mosquitoes were already being swatted away. Then, the doors unlocked and opened wide.
A flat, crushing wave of heat almost knocked them over. And the sun was even brighter. They were ordered out and emerged into an open area near some kind of base. Dave and Kurt were escorted through several checkpoints, their gear bags checked, some preliminary medical tests, and then they were on their own.
Mobile triage tents were set up everywhere. Guys looked glum and tentative. Nobody really talked with anyone at this point. Instead, Dave and Kurt were just two more teenagers facing an ugly, impossible war that no one clearly understood.
And yet, as they walked, some guys adjusted nicely. Some were playing cards, passing baggies of pills, and still others were reading magazines. Cigarettes were everywhere and the familiar aroma of marijuana hung in the air. US Armed Forces radio played good, safe, 1950s music. Enormous turrets were pointed towards the west and every one carried at least two side arms and a canteen of water, as fresh as could be.
Further up the embankment, things got a little more intense. Snipers with binoculars were in the jungled trees looking out and mesh netting draped as far as the eye could see. Some units were already treating some wounded, including an overdose on some drug.
Dave and Kurt were awestruck into silence. They set up their shop on the beach, about a hundred yards from the front line. An hour went by and the boys barely moved. Kurt found the scenery a mixture of beautiful and ugly. Dave just didn't really care.
"Isn't it surprising?" Kurt asked.
"What?"
"Well, we get sent to the same unit."
"Yeah. It is."
Kurt leaned in conspiratorially. "You didn't do anything about this, did you?"
"How could I? We're just grunts! Not everyone we were with were sent here either."
"That's true." Kurt added, leaning back. He looked skyward. "Do you know what I see up in those clouds? I mean, besides that fighter jet?"
Dave looked up and ignored the plane. "No."
"Freedom."
"Really?"
"Well, yeah. Up there, you have no boundaries. The sky's the limit."
Dave turned and stared in wonder at the kid. He always knew how to say the weirdest things at the right minute. After a few seconds, Kurt looked at Dave and smiled. They stared at each other, basking in the sun and strange surroundings. But then, that awkward moment from before began to interfere and Kurt looked away.
"I'm gonna get some magazines and water. Want something?"
"N-no." Dave said, as if dazed. Kurt left and Dave watched him go.
The first few days passed like this. Kurt and Dave were stuck there and didn't see anyone they knew from boot camp. They made casual acquaintances here and there and Kurt saw someone cheating at cards, but didn't do or say anything about it.
The heat continued to bear down on them and they were a little surprised no one was allowed to cool off in the ocean. But with the threats of mines in the area, no one even wanted to try.
Once in a while, gunfire could be heard. Especially at night. Dave and Kurt slept pretty much side by side, listening to that awful sound. They knew they would soon be heading into such fighting and neither wanted to face it. But they had no choice. They were grunts.
"Mail call!"
Every guy ran to the jeep that carried everybody's mail. News from home was like the Bible to them and they wanted any sort of happiness. Dave got two letters. Kurt didn't get any. They walked back together in silence. Dave felt sorry that he didn't get any mail but at least Kurt seemed pleased that Dave got TWO letters that day.
As they walked, a soldier had a letter in his hands. But his hands were plastered to his helmet, head bowed. The guy was shaking and fell in on himself. And just after they passed him, the guy raised his head towards the heavens and screamed, "WHYYYYYYY?!"
Dave and Kurt whirled around but kept walking.
"Dear John." Somebody else said. The boys nodded and left him to his horror.
Dave tore the letter open and Kurt sat almost right beside him. Getting news from Quinn was just what he needed. As Dave read, he smiled a few times and then giggled once.
"What?" Kurt asked.
"Shhhh."
"What?"
"Shut up. I'm reading."
Kurt forced himself to be quiet and let Dave finish in peace. Around them, guys were smiling and reading. One was still crying.
Dave finished, folded the letter, and put it in his pocket. Then, he lied back, clasped his hands over his belly and looked at the sky. Kurt was flabbergasted!
"Well?!"
"Well, what?" Dave asked, shielding his eyes with his hand.
"Is she OK?"
"Oh yeah. She's fine." Kurt glared at him. "She is." Kurt kept glaring. "What?!"
"Well, talk to me, Dave! I didn't get any mail. What's going on in this mysterious Quinn's life?"
"Nothing."
"Oh my God, you are such a stubborn Soviet-"
Suddenly, Dave got up and grabbed Kurt by the lapels! He got right in Kurt's face and growled, "Don't…you…EVER…call me a Soviet."
"OK, OK! I won't! I'm sorry. Back off, Dave!"
Dave glared for a second and then released him. He returned to his position on the ground, just like before, as if nothing had just happened.
"But…" Kurt began. Dave glared at him, which didn't stop the singer, of course. "Can you tell me some…good news? From…home?"
Dave sighed. "She's in school. College. She's the vice-president of the student council at Ohio State and she's happy."
"Wow…"
"Yeah."
"No, I mean, wow. I like her already!"
Kurt smiled at Dave and the bigger boy couldn't help but smile back. "Sorry about that. I just hate…commies."
"Well, I do too, apparently!"
Dave laughed and Kurt smiled even more. A spatter of gunfire could be heard in the distance.
.
The unit crept along. This tree, that vine, those impossible bamboo sticks that irritated the skin. The incredible, horrible heat. And eyes all in front as the unit moved through the dark jungle, despite the ample sunlight overhead. A radio went off and announced the next movement forward. There was a short pause and Dave looked to Kurt. With hand signals, he told Kurt he was moving ahead first and Kurt nodded.
Dave moved. Kurt followed. They unit crept along, slowly, ever so slowly as their machine guns were raised and the tension climbed. Sweat built in their eyes and trip wires were diffused. The jungle fought them every step of the way, as silence ruled their lives. A bird chirped, sun peeked through the wide bamboo leaves once in a while, and everything was still.
And then, the world exploded.
"FIRE!"
The rifles fired, the turrets blasted, guys screamed, and everybody ran forward! Kurt ducked behind a tree and fired forward twice. Dave ducked over a small ravine and buried himself until he could see one of the enemy approach. Gunfire exploded around them and barrels smelled of smoke and fury. Mortars blasted overhead, landing with a plume of sound miles away.
And then, one of THE worst sounds you would ever want to hear was in Dave and Kurt's ear – the sound of the enemy's language.
They were in trouble! FAST!
Kurt stayed in position, waiting for his CO to dictate a course of action. When none came, he crept along the ground towards Dave.
And Dave was staring into the eyes of a North Vietnamese soldier, eyes trained forward instead of down like he should've been. Dave aimed his gun at the man's heart and fired. He dropped like a sack of rice and an absolute and terrifying gun battle erupted all around him.
Kurt wormed his way to Dave.
"We gotta get the fuck outta here!" Kurt yelled.
"Where's the CO?!"
"I don't know!"
Dave took in the surroundings as bullets bounced around his ankles and elbows. Kurt struggled to keep his helmet on but kept his head up.
"Let's go, Dave!"
The enemy's voices got louder and Dave knew Kurt was right. Hunched down, they crept through the jungle until they were out of range of the voices and took off in a sprint. And when they did, they found the CO.
Or, what was left of him. The mangled corpse stared up at them, ugly and undignified. Arms were gone and blood gushed out like a shopping mall fountain. An explosion not too far away sprung them right back into action and Dave called out on the radio. And when he made the proper call signals, his face went as white as a ghost.
"What?!" Kurt yelled. "What?! Goddammit! WHAT?!"
"NAPALLLLM! WE GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"
They ran. Other buddies ran with them. Dave screamed 'napalm!' over and over. Everybody scattered. Explosions. Guys crying, calling out for their mothers. Total fear.
And then, a great wall of fire behind them.
They lost consciousness.
.
Blinding light. Movement. Blurred vision. More lights.
Gradually, things became apparent and Dave and Kurt were in a mobile triage unit. Dave's head ached badly and he raised his hand to it. That's when he saw the IV sticking out of his right hand. Kurt too was waking up and he wriggled in his cot. Nurses stopped them and checked their vitals. And after two rounds of concussion and Agent Orange protocols, and they were cleared, the boys were released.
Neither spoke. They zombied back to where they were when they arrived. Their little tent seemed smaller. More insignificant. Dave reached into his pocket and his letters from Quinn were damaged. Readable, but permanently scarred.
They soundlessly plopped down and stared up into the evening sky. They didn't know what time or day it was. All they knew was that they had experienced the hell of war and they didn't know what to say or do.
Suddenly, Kurt got up. "I'm headed to the commissary." He left.
Dave put his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky. Since released from triage, he hadn't said a word, just like Kurt, and simply watched the sky like a zombie. Two stars twinkled above him. He focused his entire energy on these lights, these beacons of hope in the sky that promised peace – a world free from war and communism.
And when he blinked, the stars changed into the eyes of the North Vietnamese soldier he killed.
He didn't even realize he got up.
He didn't even fully realize where he was going.
He ambled along, looking like a man on a mission, but so devoid of hope and happiness that he could barely focus.
Completely alone, Dave walked towards the little shack only to see Kurt coming out. The singer walked off towards the full moonlight and Dave followed. A slight breeze in the air helped seem to guide them on this devastating journey. Away from the harsh realities of war.
Kurt took up residence on a stack of ammunition. He leaned forward, letting his forearms rest on his knees and looked up into the nighttime sky. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, ignoring the ugly smells of war and taking in the rich aromas around him – foliage, perhaps honeysuckle, and fruit. That's when he heard a funny sound – a kind of panting. He opened his eyes and looked up.
"Dave!"
But when they made eye contact, the intensity took over. Dave rifle-fired holes into Kurt's eyes, the boy who made a living by fighting. The bigger guy's breathing suddenly became even more erratic and he shook a little. Kurt turned closer to him but stopped immediately.
"I…" Dave oh so hesitantly began, "I…I…"
"Dave?"
Closer…closer…
"Dave?" Kurt whispered.
"I…k-killed…"
"Oh, we had to… We had-"
"I killed-"
"Sit down, Dave."
The bigger guy did just that, looking so small and lost. Kurt watched protectively and Dave just stared down at his hands. And this time, Kurt didn't hold back at all. He gently touched Dave's wrist and squeezed it just a little.
"I killed someone!" Dave softly exclaimed.
"Stop, Dave. He would've killed you had you not done it."
"I…killed…some-"
Kurt turned Dave's face to him. "You did absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing."
Dave stared into his eyes, hoping and hoping that Kurt was right. And just when the moon ducked behind some clouds in the nighttime sky, he did what he knew to do.
Dave lunged for Kurt and kissed him hard! Kurt's face hurt from the pressure. But the need, the SHEER need of this, THIS that held them together, kept them alive and sane, was all they needed. The kiss lingered and passion flowed as they sat on weapons of killing. And two soldiers shared a much needed respite from the true horror of war – the removal of security forever.
.
AN: What did you think? More to come... Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3
