Welcome To Vietnam

Chapter Eleven

Thank you all for the reviews! I like how when I give y'all a happy chapter, I get double the amount I normally get! Haha, I'm just kidding. It's great! Just a heads up though, things aren't gonna go so swell in this chapter for our boys. Enjoy!

The next day, our luck runs out. Horville gives us the normal wake up call and tells us to stand at attention. We all line up, shoulder to shoulder, and he walks down the line. "Alright, ladies. Today we got our first mission. Now, I'm not sending all of you. I only need four of you to go on this mission with a small ragtag team from around camp. I'm gonna call your names and you four unlucky bastards are gonna follow me to the rest of the squad for further instruction. Randle, Barker, Johnson, and Lema you're up. For the rest of you, KP is posted on the bulletin as always. Dismissed."

Steve starts to walk off after Horville and I grab his arm. He puts a hand on my shoulder and nods. I don't even have to say 'come back safe.' I give him a half smile and he carries on, grabbing his gear from the tent and following our Sargent. I exhale a breath I hadn't known I was holding and shuffled over to the bulletin. Figures today is the day I score latrine duty.

The latrine is little more than a multi-stall outhouse with one wash basin and a pitcher of water to serve as a sink. There's a shower stall connected to the outside that is just four bamboo walls and a shower head that uses rainwater collected in a tub that sits on top of the outhouse. It hasn't rained since I've been here so the supply is running low. We're only allowed three minutes if we bother with it. Most of us have taken to scrubbing down in soap before we turn on the facet and just use the rainwater to rinse. It's medieval, but it's better than nothing.

I finish scrubbing the toilet seats and put the cleaning supplies back in the corner. I could see Roger filling sandbags and I knew Ryan was on watch today. These were the times I hated most. Free time with nothing to do but sit and think about the war. There was no way I was going to do that so I walked over to help Roger. I picked up a shovel and dug into the earth.

"What, latrine duty not enough for you?" He asked.

I shrugged. "Steve's out on a mission. Not like I got anything better to do."

"Well what about Two-Bit? Or is he on extended KP already?"

Holy shit! I'd forgotten that the 405th was here! Yesterday seemed like a dream too good to be true. I tossed the shovel aside and waved with a salute. "You know where I'll be," I called as I started off in the direction of the kennels. I dove back for the sandbags though when I heard a loud BOOM that made the earth shake. All the men ducked for cover.

"What the fuck?" Someone shouted. I was thinking the same thing.

An old timer nearby stood up and we wearily followed suit. He explained, "Bombs. They ain't hitting this base so don't worry about it. Just means we know now why the bastards have been hammering us so hard lately. They're trying to escape Uncle Sam and we cut off their route north which leaves us their best option."

I hope Steve's squad didn't have anything to do with that. Our unit hadn't been on any missions since we got here, but I knew from the old timers that they were dangerous. A mission meant a gun fight for sure. On the big runs, the statistics say only half a squadron returns. The odds weren't in anyone's favor, but rookies like Steve and me stood an even higher chance of being a casualty. BOOM...BOOM BOOM... They go on sporadically, the sound echoing through the jungle. He was right though, it wasn't that close to us. I couldn't even see the smoke.

I pat Roger on the shoulder and leave again to go find Two-Bit. I needed someone from the gang to reassure me that everything was going to be okay. Even if it was a lie, I needed to hear it. The walk to the kennels takes ten minutes and I duck every time another bomb goes off. I'd be humiliated at the reflex if I was the one that had it, but it seemed that even the old timers flinched. All the fellow rookies hit the dirt.

I saw Andy sitting on the ground in front of T-Bone's kennel. The dogs were all pacing and on edge. None of them were out today, probably because they'd be hard to control right now. These dogs were all tough and wanted in the action more than they wanted out. Most of them barked at me once as I walked by, probably yelling at me to let them out.

"Hey Andy," I say nonchalantly and stop in front of him.

Quietly, he answers, "Hey. Ponyboy, right?" I nod. I notice that he's pale and shaky. T-Bone has his nose pushed through the kennel and is nosing Andy as if comforting him. Andy reached through and pats his back.

"You okay?" I ask politely.

He nods. "Yeah, just never get used to that sound you know? I hate loud noises. Never even could stand fireworks on the Fourth." He laughs weakly.

I crouch down and pat his shoulder. "It's cool. I've never heard 'em before today, and let me tell yah, they're not growing on me." As if to prove my point, another one falls, BOOM, and we both duck. The dogs flinch and then start barking. Andy sighs nervously and I gather he wants to be alone. "Hey, you know where Two-Bit is?"

Andy looks away from T-Bone to me and thinks. "Uh, last I saw he was unpacking supplies from the jeep."

I stand up and say, "Okay, thanks, Andy. See you two later."

"Okay, bye!"

I walk away towards the jeeps. It's unfair that we grunts have to march all over the country, but the officers and supplies get to ride in the jeeps. It'll be funny when monsoon season comes and the ground will be too muddy. That'll teach the officers with their soft feet. Ours are hard and calloused from the long painful walks. We've bleed through our socks and walked out of our boots to earn those, but the officers are going to have to go through that now. Ah, the sweet taste of justice. Horville was a respectable guy though because he walked with us, but then he was just a Sargent so he was more like one of us.

Two-Bit was sitting on top of a crate marked 'k-rations' when I found him. He stroked a match on the wood under him and lit up his cigarette. He smiled when he saw me and tossed away the match. "You know, I was thinking about burning these crates. Then I realized we'd have nothing to eat which is almost worse!" We laughed.

"Well if all else fails, we can always have your mom send us more cookies." I say.

He snorts. "Yeah because asking for that many wouldn't raise suspicions."

I smirk. "What, you run out of get-out-of jail free cards, Two-Bit?"

He laughs. "Shoot kid, my momma wouldn't believe me now if I told her the sky was blue! I don't know how I'm gonna tell her Kathy and I are engaged..."

My jaw drops and I sputter, "How? When?"

He laugh so hard that he almost falls off the crate. "Hell kid, I ain't ready for that! I don't think I'll ever be, but you should have seen your face! What, you think I sent her the ring in the mail and asked her via the envelope?"

My face goes red and I recompose myself. For Two-Bit that proposal wouldn't be a stretch. I let him laugh and when he calms down I say seriously, "You know, you're gonna have to pop the question one day. It's only been three or four years and the girl's been telling you for at least one."

He pales slightly at the thought and I almost laugh. My mental image of him shopping for rings would be picture perfect. "Geez, Pony, it's too soon. I'll ask one day, but at least let me get back to the States, will yah?" He chuckles nervously and I let it go. Everyone knew they were going to get hitched one day, everyone but him it seems.

"Whatever you say, Two-Bit. So what're you up to? Steve's on a mission today and I'm bored. Free time's a bitch."

He regains his compose and laughs heartily this time. "Oh, Pony. You've never been one to just sit still for a minute, have you? You ought to take a few lessons from me on the art of relaxation. I was just supposed to be taking inventory of the supplies, but I'm done. Let's go find some of the guys." I didn't know if he meant that he'd finished or if he was skipping, but I left it alone. He knew what he was doing.

Roger and Ryan are back at the poker crates with our usual crowd when we pull up a seat to join in. The afternoon passes just like all the others. Steve's squad comes trudging back around dusk with two bodies wrapped in sheets. My heart drops to my feet until I see him walking. Two-Bit and I jump up and run over to our buddy.

"What happened?" I ask him, worried.

Steve looks exhausted and hollow. There's no real emotion on his face, emotions that I've gotten to read pretty easily over the last two or three months. He sees us and walks over with a few words to one of the guys carrying a stretcher. "We bombed a small camp they had set up in the jungle. Our squad was sent in to contain them. Two of our guys got hit, Barker and one from 55th."

Two-Bit, looking serious, says quietly, "You okay?"

Steve nods, face blank. "Yeah, I didn't get hit."

I start, "Steve, you know that's not-"

"War's shit, okay?" He says angrily. The same words I used after my first kill. "I killed a kid. A kid, Pony! He couldn't have been more than fifteen, but he had the commies uniform and a gun so I didn't have a choice and I shot him. At least when they're older it's an even chance y'know? It's fair, him or me, but with a kid... It's just not the same." Steve storms off bitterly towards the tents.

Silence. We're too stunned to try and stop him. We don't blame him one bit, but that was still quite a shock. The enemy was using kids? I'd heard of them using women and children, but somehow I never really believed it. It was an us or them scenario and we were glad that Steve had come up on top because losing him would be too much. I understood why he felt that way, but Steve wasn't me and I didn't know what to say. If it were me, I'd be happy with just someone who understood but Steve was the kind who wanted answers that didn't exist. Why'd he have to die? So you could live. Why does it have to be like that? We're in war. Why are we here? We're fighting them. Why do they have to die? And the vicious cycle continues. There were no real answers. In summary, war is shit.

Two-Bit and I followed after him once we recovered and found him, Steve Randle, crying on his mat in our tent. Steve Randle who never cries, who only has cried once in the entire time I've known him, was bawling his eyes out. There was nothing we could say that would take his guilt away. We all knew it wasn't his fault, even him, but that wasn't enough and we didn't have anything else. So we just sat with him and let him know we cared. When he was done, Two-Bit offered him a tissue and I reassured him that he was still tough. He laughed and called me a dumbass before threatening to beat us to a pulp if we ever spoke of this again.

Roger came in, announcing it was lights out for him and Two-Bit left for his own tent. I patted Steve on the back and crawled over to my own mat. The camp quickly quieted as the darkness fell. Steve rolled over on his mat and looked over at me. I looked up and he whispered, "Thanks."

I shrug and smile in the dark. "What else are buddies for?" He laughed and threw his pillow at me. I took it and put it under my own head.

"Hey!"

I smirk. Innocently I ask, "What, you weren't giving it to me?" He reached over and smacked my head. "Ow! Alright, alright. No need to go abusing me." I give him back his pillow and he falls back on it.

"Night Pony," he says smugly.

"Night Stevie-boy." I hear him growl at me and chuckle. Sleep welcomes us with open arms.

"Alright, attention ladies! We've got a big run today so line up and I'll announce today's short straws." I stumble out of the tent, surprised to see that it's already dawn and that I slept so soundly. I wasn't even sure I'd fallen asleep, but here was morning. We all line up at a lazy attention, formality long gone out the window since we arrived in country. "Alright so as I was saying. Big run today. All men that I call will follow me to the squad for further instruction. Curtis, Smith Roger, Ryan... Dismissed." Half our unit was called.

Steve put a hand on my shoulder. "Good luck. Stay safe." I nod and give him a quick hug because of how dark he looks. Anyone that knew him would know he was trying to stay tough and was fighting a hard emotion. That emotion, I knew, was fear. Only half the squad would likely come back which could likely be none of our unit. The odds were unfavorable and I was just as worried, although I tried to put up a brave front for him. I say real quick, "Tell Two-Bit I said bye. Hopefully it'll be over soon." He nods and I walk away to follow Horville.

Several of the guys from the 405th and more from the base are waiting for us by the eastern perimeter. I spot three of the handlers with their dogs including Andy and T-Bone. Before I reach the guys, someone tackles me from behind and almost knocks me over. I turn around fast and am wrapped up in a hug. "Two-Bit, you're crushing me." He loosens up and lets go after a few moments. He gives the same advice as Steve and I nod, giving him a goofy grin that he returns.

"I'll be back before you know it!"

He gives a hollow laugh and says, "You better be."

Then the commander barks at me, "Curtis, fall in!" I shrug an apology and run to fall in behind Ryan.

We march through the jungle quietly, on full alert. The dogs are taking point and we follow behind them cautiously. After two hours we come to a halt before a huge clearing that's recently been bombed to hell and back. The earth and surrounding vegetation is blackened and charred. The air smells heavily of smoke. I jump when something wet falls from above and lands on my arm. I look down and see a small drop of water, then another, and another. Pretty soon it's pouring rain and the monsoon season begins. It'd be a welcome relief from the heat if it wasn't just as hot as the air.

The dogs don't mind and we don't say anything. Everything is dead silent except for the pattering of the rain, which is a bad sign. The three dogs fan out and push forward into the clearing. Our mission is to secure the area that was just bombed yesterday. There could be traps, mines, gooks, anything. Slowly we follow closely in the dogs' footprints. The dogs keep their noses low to the ground, on the look out for anything out of the ordinary. Their handlers give them a lot of slack, but are careful to keep the leashes off the ground as they watch their dogs for even the slightest hint. The handlers learned signs for everything in basic. An ear twitch, a tail position, anything in their body language was a sign of something. I wonder if maybe Two-Bit learned some of them.

Ryan is directly ahead of me. You know it's a big run when they bring along a medic and you know it's serious when he's being just as silent as possible. Even when he's not talking he's usually chomping on gum, but not today. He takes a tentative step forward and another, each time praying he doesn't step on a trap. We're following the dogs and there are at least six guys ahead of us, but it never hurt to be extra careful.

I look around at the clearing we're in. Everything in it looks dead. The ground is black and has craters that we're trying to maneuver around. There aren't any plants inside the treeline. There was some charred rubble that resembled objects like you'd find in a camp, but no life. There weren't even any bodies. It feels deserted and makes my hair stand on end. Something feels...wrong. I stop.

Ryan gets several feet ahead of me and turns back to look at me. He sees me behind and mouths 'are you okay?' I nod, still feeling uneasy and take another step forward. Ryan nods back and looks around at the scene. He fingers the cross around his neck that rests on the chain with the dog tags and mutters a silent prayer to himself. He turns back around and takes another step forward...

BOOM!

A landmine explodes under his foot blowing him, and me, several feet away from the blast. Everyone ducks. My body hits the ground hard and I arch my back in pain. I feel like I've been hit by a truck, but I'm not bleeding. I wiggles my fingers and toes, all twenty there. I'm dazed and don't understand what's going on. Sound comes back to me and I hear gunfire all around us. Men are shouting orders and yelling, 'Take cover!'

I roll over on my stomach and crawl towards a crater. Then I remember Ryan and look up frantically for him. I crawl over to his body and look him over. His foot had been blown clean off! The wound is bleeding heavily into the soil and mixing with the rain. His face is ashen beneath several bloody cuts and his eyes are closed. I lean over him and tap his face lightly. "C'mon, Ryan. Wake up! Jakob, don't die on me. C'mon, not like this. Not like this. Dammit, Ryan, wake the fuck up!" He does and any color in his face drains. He arches his back as the pain hits him and screams. I push his thrashing shoulders down and move down to his leg, glad to have him alive for the moment.

It's a bloody mess, severed raggedly at mid-shin. It's black from gunpowder and dirt and I notice, relieved, that some of it was cauterized. I remember him going over all this medical bullshit and thinking it would never come in handy with him on our side. He sure showed me. Any other time I might have been laughing at the irony, but right now I was fighting down panic and trying to save his life. I undo my belt buckle and take it off. I tie it tight just above his knee and then reach over him to grab his medic bag. A bullet lodges itself into the dirt no more than a foot away from my hand, reminding me that I'm in the middle of a war zone. Not the best place for a field dressing.

I toss the bag on his chest and drag him, screaming and writhing all the way, down into the relative safety of a crater. Two guys from the squad are there, laying on the dirt wall and firing up at the treeline. One of them looks at us as I drag Ryan down to the lowest point and go back to his leg. "Holy shit! Is that Ryan?" He says in a familiar voice and I look up for a minute to see that it's Roger! The other guy in the hole asks frantically, "Our medic?! Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph..." I nod. Roger crouches down next to us and asks, "Anything I can do?"

I nod roughly and snap, "You can give me some fucking space and keep those goddamned gooks off us!" I dig through the medical bag and angrily start throwing stuff out to get to what I need. "Goddammit! Fuck!" Finally I find the gauze. I look over at Roger who's staring at me stricken and I ease up. "Sorry, man. I'm just- Jesus, I don't know what I'm doing." He nods and rests a hand on my shoulder. I go back to what I'm doing and he goes back up to the slope to fire at the enemy.

I pour alcohol on the wound that's still trickling blood and he screams again, thrashing around. I hold down his leg with both hands until he's finished. I warn him, "This is gonna hurt." He looks at the gauze pad in my hand and nods, stealing himself. I press it hard against the stub and he screams loudly before it's abruptly cut off. I look up, concerned, only to see that he passed out. I wrap a bandage tightly to hold the gauze in place and wrap his leg. Then I give him a shot of morphine. If I'd given it to him sooner, he would have burned it up before I was finished with the dressing. I exhale shakily and pack up the equipment into the bag. I gently turn him over to grab the compact stretcher on the back of his pack and set him down.

I unfold it and push him slowly onto it, first his torso, then his lower half. I crawl up the slope and fire off a few rounds. The battle is going on strong as ever. There are at least five men lying immobile on the muddy ground. Everyone who made it into the clearing are in the craters now, the rest behind us in the treeline. The rain is a steady drizzle now, but you can't hear it over the roar of the guns. I can't see the enemy. They're tucked in the trees on the far side of the clearing like always. All I can see are the muzzle flashes which are a constant stream. I count at least ten of them going off at once which means there are at least thirty of them that we can't see. We're sitting ducks for them.

"We're gonna have to get him out of here!" I shout over the guns.

"How" BAM. "The" BAM. "Hell" BAM. "Are we gonna do that?" BAM.

An excellent question. I hadn't gotten that far yet. All I knew was that Ryan needed to get out of here if he was going to have any shot at making it out of this. "You strong enough to carry Ryan? If you and him carry the stretcher then I'll try to lay down some cover fire right behind you and the three of us will make a break for the next crater. We do that until we reach the treeline and we should be good," I shout.

Roger chews his bottom lip for a minute, thinking. He pales and shouts back, "I don't think I'm strong enough. But you are so I'll lay down the cover fire. That cool with you?" I don't want to, but I nod anyway. This is what he wants to do so I'll let him take the more dangerous position. "Okay, I'm gonna tell Donny. Get ready!"

I rush down the short slope and down to Ryan. I slide my hand under the handles by his head. Roger is still at the top of the hill telling Donny our plan. Donny nods and comes down to take the other side. Now we're waiting for Roger to give us the signal, it's all his call now. He's out point man. Roger fires at the trees for a few minutes and then hollers, "Alright, let's move out!"

We stand up and dash out of the crater. The next hole is only about ten feet, but those ten feet fell like ten ten miles. I know I can't look back to see if Roger is following us. I can only keep moving forward and pray that he stays on our ass. We make it and I look behind us. Roger is calm and collected, looking as determined as I've ever seen him. Three more times we dash in and out, gathering men at every hole. We all make a mad dash the last fifty feet for the trees and make it. The crowd laying fire behind us has thinned, but most of us made it. Donny, Roger, and I keep moving forward and out of the fire zone. I take Ryan's pulse. It's weak, but steady.

I hear the order, "Retreat!" All the men in the clearing still and firing from the treeline come running towards us and we all run through the jungle in the opposite direction of the enemy. Roger is running alongside the stretcher. I spy T-Bone running out of the clearing after us, his leash trailing behind him. An army dog will only leave his handler in a combat zone is his handler is dead, but sometimes not even then. Poor Andy...

Shots are following us through the jungle, biting at our heels. They dig into the bark and fly past us. Roger falls. "Roger!" I scream. I hand the stretcher over to another guy and drop down next to him. They keep going. I sling the medic bag off my shoulder and examine the wound.

There is a bullet hole in his chest, blood pooling around it and soaking his shirt front. He's pale and shaking, but awake. He's not dead yet! I grab some gauze from the bag and press down on the wound with both hands, trying to stop the bleeding. I can hear him wheezing over the sound of gunfire. Shit, it hit a lung! There isn't anything I can now, just stay with him.

"Fuck, man! You can't die on me now! What am I gonna do without you? What is Marcia gonna do? C'mon, hang on for Marcia, man. Just hang on..." I mean to sound brave and strong, like when I was taking care of Ryan back there, but my voice comes out shaky and weak. I feel something wet on my face, but I can't tell if it's tears or rain. I don't feel like I'm crying even though inside I feel like I should be sobbing uncontrollably. Roger open his mouth and blood trickles out the corner. He coughs harshly, a wet tearing sound. More blood comes up. He's drowning in it!

I roll him on his side, knowing that pressure isn't going to fix this. Maybe this way he won't choke on the blood. He spits out a mouthful and opens his mouth again, moving his lips. I bend down closer to hear what he has to say. I just barely make out, "Marcia..."

I nod. "Yes, hang on for Marcia, man. Just hang on-"

"No...Marcia...left pocket..." He lifts a heavy arm and point at his left back pocket. Confused I reach into the pocket and pull out an envelope in a clear plastic baggie addressed, 'To My Beloved Marcia'. Tears well up in my eyes as I realize it's his just-in-case letter. We've all written one and stored it somewhere in the hopes that someone would find it and deliver it for us. In it was everything he thought was important enough to be his last words to her.

He gasped out, "You... gotta...you gotta...Marcia..."

Understanding passes and I nod, the tears spilling over and blending with the rain. I choke out, "Yeah, sure man. I'll make sure to give this to Marcia. I'm so sorry, Roger. I'm so sorry!" If I'd just refused him point, this wouldn't have happened!

He gives me a weak smile. "It's...it's okay... It's okay..." Then he dies right before me, the last of his air leaving his lungs. He sinks into the mud just like Johnny in the hospital. Just like Johnny... Roger really does look like him now. I close his eyes for him for the final time and tear the second dog tag off the chain. I pocket it and then I lose my mind. Bullets are still lying all around us, most of the men have cleared out by now and only the last few stragglers are nearby.

I wrap my bloody hands in his shirt and pull his limp body a few feet of the ground and scream, "Goddammit, Roger! Get the fuck up! Don't you fucking do this to me! Fuck!" I drop him back to the ground and stand up roughly. I scream in anguish and just start firing at the gooks. They've started running across the clearing now, coming after us. Easy targets. BAM, BAM, BAM! Three of them, but I don't stop there. I keep firing.

BANG BANG BANG

The stragglers have come back and are standing next to me, taking cover behind some trees, and firing wildly into the clearing. The only guys we have in there now are the ones that won't be getting up again. More guys come running back and we're all firing. The enemy fall one by one, the body count rising every second. Some of them are retreating and some of them are firing back at us just as hard. They're the sitting ducks now though and we don't let up. By now most of the squad has returned, except the wounded and those taking the wounded to a safe zone. Ryan wouldn't make it back the three hours to base, we'd need to call for a dust-off, but we couldn't do that until we cleared this clearing.

We advanced, taking the fight on equal terms. We fought for what felt like days, but was only hours. At long last, the field was ours. The last shot rang out and it was over. Our communications guy radioed in for a dust-off and we ordered the wounded back to the clearing. We began moving the bodies out of the way. We lined up our guys on our side of the clearing and covered them with sheets from our packs. We combed through the jungle and found more dead, including Roger. Then we went over to the other side of the clearing and found a few more gooks to shoot. We did without further casualty to our side and cleared the site of all traps. There weren't many mines in the clearing after all. Ryan's luck just ran out and he managed to step on one that the dogs had missed. There were thirteen total found, but his was the only one they activated. The others were disarmed and dealt with.

After thirty minutes, the first of the choppers arrived. They were almost as loud as the battle had been. I went over and helped carry Ryan's stretcher to the bird. He was awake and gave me a weary thumbs up. I smiled and handed him over. They took him and set him on the floor with four other stretchers. There were two other wounded men sitting on the bench inside. The door shut and the bird took off. The next chopper took six less wounded men that still needed attention. The last three took the rest of the us back to base. Everything looked so calm from up here... A shame that it was a lie.

Awww! Our poor boys! So is it obvious yet that I consider my original characters expendable? Haha. Don't worry, this is probably the most depressing chapter of the whole thing so the rest should be a breeze! Please review!