A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this! I've been so busy at work and then I got the flu, but I now have a two week break and found some time to get this chapter written. This chapter was a toughie to write. It always was going to be which is why I needed a chunk of time to write it.

Thanks so much for all the reviews to date! I also changed Sherri back to Cherry in subsequent chapters and this one, though she's barely mentioned in this chapter.

This chapter is grim in places, just thought I better warn you all before you read it. There is nothing pretty about war. The events that unfold are based on a true life Vietnam battle which I try to do justice. I do a lot of research to give a sense of realism. I've also read personal recounts of soldiers experiences to get as much of an insight of what it was like. Some of those recounts I couldn't even bring myself to read they were that bad. They are from a book titled 'Ashes of Vietnam. Australian Voices' by Stuart Rintoul. It's basically a collection of anecdotes from Australian soldiers in the Vietnam war, one or two I've briefly used in here. But much of what I've written is factually based with fictional characters and their own original experiences.

That said. Enjoy!

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Chapter 14.

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There's a lot I won't say about this place. That then requires me to have to think about it and its best I just don't. The jungle is so dense. I hate the feeling of being shut in all the time. I'm always looking over my shoulder, ears honed in to sounds of anything different, even a small crack of a twig can alert you to enemy approaching or nearby. The Viet Cong move stealth like and can just suddenly appear out of nowhere.

We're stationed up near the DMZ at Camp Evans, located between the cities of Hue and Quang Tri in the I Corp sector of South Vietnam. We work in the steep mountainous area, covered with dense jungle canopy, patrolling the lowlands into the A Shau Valley where the Ho Chi Minh trail is a re-supply highway for the NVA. This mountain area is designated as a "free-kill zone" with no civilians to deal with as all 'friendly's' have been removed from this area. We don't need permission to engage our enemy. It is just 'us' and the 'NVA' to slug it out. Most of our many fire-fights are quick and intense encounters. When the fighting stops and the smoke clears, the enemy fade back away into the jungle as we do. Many of us prefer it this way. I can walk along narrow tracks shooting at an unseen enemy. I can fire off a few rounds without knowing if I'm hitting anything or not. I like it that way, not knowing and not seeing. That way there is no guilt.

Patrolling comes with many risks. The NVA lace the tracks with all types of mines and booby traps which are sometimes impossible to see until you step on one. Two-Bit is telling jokes on this particular day as he often does to boost moral by making us laugh. I'm not even expecting the Bouncing Betty mine that suddenly bursts out on the ground in front of me. I don't even realize that I trip it. All I can think is, 'that's it. I'm finished.' I don't have much more time than that. I'm just frozen there waiting for it to explode. I know I can't duck it or jump it. I see the sudden anguish in Two-Bit's eyes. Time stands still and nothing happens. It doesn't go off. I'm about to collapse to the ground when Two-Bit catches me, dragging me away.

My legs do eventually give out on me and I slump to the ground. I start to cry. I can't even begin to explain it. Just that I could have died, and every day I know I can, but today is the first time I've been confronted with that reality. Of course once I start crying I can't stop. I guess everything just suddenly got to me. I don't want to be here. I don't want to kill. I don't want to die. I just want to go home to my brothers.

I can hear people whispering around me. I can feel Two-Bit's worried gaze watching me. After some time he approaches me.

"Pony," he begins. "You gotta keep moving."

I manage to nod my head and wipe the snot away from my nose. I'm terrified just about every day. I feel disgusting. I haven't been able to shave, wash or change my clothes or socks or anything for over a week. And I'm gonna die like this, in this hell hole of a place, stinking and in a place none of us should be in.

We ain't got no right to be here. But I ain't got no say in it. Maybe that thought alone is enough to sober me up a bit.

I manage to get to my feet and keep walking because I know that if I don't, I guess I might never move again, never take that next step.

There's not a lot to say but I can feel Two-Bit watching me. I know he's worrying, but it's not as if he can do a lot about it. Fate, if you can call it that and we do, just strikes randomly.

"You're the luckiest son of a bitch," he mutters, dropping an arm across my shoulders. "Fuck, Pony. Fucking hell. Don't you dare scare the shit out of me like that again - you hear?!"

We all swear a lot more out here. Not like it matters, no one here is gonna give a rats arse. We're all in the same boat.

At night I lie in my hooch, hearing the bombs drop, hoping to god they don't fall on me. Now and again I hear Two-Bit swear under his breath when one gets too close. Things like this I can never write in letters to Darry and Soda, the horrible reality of this place. No one has any idea on what it's like back home, because none of us can bear to tell our family or friends.

I'm still rattled from my near death experience earlier today. I've barely spoken since. Everyone's been looking at me oddly, as if waiting for me to lose it. We've seen enough guys in the last couple of weeks lose the plot. One guy broke down five minutes after an ambush. He was alright while it was on, but afterwards he was just a screaming mess on the ground. He sat down and went into hysterics. Some guys do it in the middle of the night, just suddenly start screaming.

"Don't clam up on me, Ponyboy," I hear Two-Bit say in the darkness alongside me.

He's probably wondering when and if I'll start screaming.

We share the same hooch, we pretty much share everything for that matter; food, shaving cream, when we have it, and newspaper for wiping our arse. I'm pretty sure there'll be nothing left on the face of this earth to make me blush after I'm done with this place. There is no dignity and there's certainly no dignity about dying for a useless cause. In fact we don't call it a cause, we call being here a sick politicians joke and have only one thing on our minds; surviving it. No one uses deodorant or scented soap either, the Viet Cong can smell us a mile away. We can smell them too.

"You reckon it's the food the gooks eat that make them smell so different to us?" I say out loud.

Two-Bit mutters something about me being an odd sort under his breath before propping up on one elbow to look at me.

"Yeah, I reckon it's the rats they eat," he jokes.

"Scorpions too," I add.

We list all of the disgusting things they could eat, and as stupid as it sounds, it's kind of small comfort we take, because sometimes it's easier talking about stupid stuff than maybe tomorrow being your last day alive.

It's like that here. There's excitement, there's boredom, sometimes there's fun, though not lately, sometimes there's laughter and there's a lot of people getting killed.

A bomb drops not too far away and the ground trembles. Two-Bit and I grow silent in the dark. I hold my breath and screw my eyes shut. The next bomb that drops is farther away and I let out a breath.

"It's getting worse, isn't I?" I say, my voice sounding hoarse in my own ears.

Two-Bit sighs. "Yeah."

I sit up and fumble for the cigarette packet in my pocket. I'm not gonna be able to sleep. I light up a smoke and hand one to Two-Bit. Our eyes meet and I see my own fear reflected in his gaze.

"You got the time?" I ask.

He looks down at his imaginary watch and taps it, grinning. "I reckon its gone way past midnight."

I snort, but he's probably right. Two-Bit can just tell time without ever looking at a watch.

"Which makes it's the first of July," he continues.

Leaning over, he pinches and then punches my arm. "For the first day of the month."

I manage a smile and shake my head. He still acts like a big kid at times, even in this hellhole.

"Only another nine months to go," I mutter.

Two-Bit lets out a deflated breath. "Fuck."

And that word sums it all up.

The shelling continues most of the next day. There are no longer brief skirmishes in the jungle, now we find ourselves in the middle of a battle. A battle that is bringing the enemy alarming close.

I don't know who first alerted us that enemy sappers managed to get inside the NDP, with NVA infantrymen attacking from the outside. This is how the enemy sappers work. They penetrate the defensive perimeter in advance of a ground attack by a NVA or Viet Cong unit. The sappers initiate battle from within the defensive perimeter at the same time another unit attacks the perimeter from without, causing us to fight in two directions at the same time, creating utter chaos.

It's five in the morning, but I'm only half asleep when the firing starts along with the Sergeant yelling instructions. We all sleep ready for battle. It's just a matter of grabbing my rifle, shoving my helmet on my head, boots on my feet and get moving.

The morning light is just beginning to creep along the horizon. I feel completely disorientated. There's screaming, there's hollering and there's bellowing. It's like nothing I've ever experienced. It's just noise, like I can't believe that there can be so much noise, with rockets and the mortars and the machine-guns and the guys screaming and bellowing.

Two-Bit pulls me down into a rifle ditch we'd just dug out yesterday.

"Holy fuck," I hear him swear. "We're gonna fucking die."

We just lay there trying to breath, terrified. I'm never gonna see the sun again. The sun is never going to come up. I can't remember the last time I watched a sunrise or sunset. I hadn't thought about stuff like that in a while. Or even that brief sweet moment with Cherry Valance. I wonder if I'll see her again. I sometimes recall the kiss we shared, how her soft lips felt beneath mine but even that seems another world away.

The company commander, Captain Hewitt, lands in the ditch next to us. He has a radio and is desperately radioing to central command.

"Sappers in the compound, we're under heavy fire from NVA outside. Need urgent back up, now!" he yells.

More men end up in the ditch, Larry and much to my relief Stephen, the only other 18 year old out here. He used to go to the same school as me, but we never hung out back then. On different sides but none of that matters here. The pallor of his skin makes his freckles stand out. He has a look of shell shock horror on his face.

"Private Jenkins, where is Private Brown?" the commander asks.

We're always paired off with someone else in the platoon.

"You mean what's left of him, Sir," he manages to stutter, "Taken out by an RPG."

We're all shocked for a minute. Jack Brown is liked by everyone. He's only a year older than me. He carried a picture of his girlfriend in his pocket, much like I carry the picture of Soda and me when we were kids. For a moment I can't move or think. Everyday it's someone dying.

Two-Bit swears, the commander shakes his head. "We can't stay here like this, we're just sitting ducks."

"And if we move," Larry states, "We'll be either shot down or blown to pieces like Private Brown."

I watch the commander scan the compound with his eyes, looking all worried as hell. A glimmer of yellow sunlight touches the horizon. I can see the desperation in his eyes. It doesn't reassure me. He's right. And now that it's starting to get light, we are sitting ducks just waiting to be picked off.

"We need someone to draw their fire," he begins. "That'll give us their location. Give us half a chance to take them out."

I swallow hard, once, then twice. I'm about to do the most stupid thing in the entirety of my life.

"I'll do it," I pipe up. "I'm the fastest …"

"No way, Pony!" Two-Bit fiercely butts in, eyes widening. "That's suicide! I ain't letting you do it!"

I turn to him in desperation. "If we stay like this we're all gonna die, and I'm tired of being scared all of the time just waiting for it to happen."

I know I'm ranting but that's because I'm terrified. I'm not lying when I tell Two-Bit that I want it to be over. Better to make a run for it, hopefully if I get shot it'll be a quick death, like through my heart or something. Or, at worst, I could end up like Jack – in pieces. But that doesn't bear thinking about.

"Alright, Private Curtis. Good luck son. God be with you," the commander encourages. "Head for the trees at nine o'clock. No gun fire there. You should stand a chance if you reach it."

My mouth goes dry. If I should reach it? Shit. Holy shit. I must be insane.

"Yes Sir."

I can't even bring myself to look at Two-Bit. I know if I survive this, he's gonna kill me. He grabs me by the shoulders.

"You better survive, Pony. So help me God I'm gonna wring your scrawny neck after this." I hear the pained desperation in his voice.

I just nod. It's all I can manage. What else is there to say? Words are no longer of any use.

As soon as I'm out of the ditch, I just start running. As fast as I can. My legs plowing through the long grass as I make a bee-line for the trees. Bullets whiz by and I'm waiting for it, waiting to be hit, feel pain or feel nothing anymore. The air escapes my lungs in short frantic breathes as I push myself. The adrenaline pumping through my veins fuels me on. The trees draw closer and I really don't know if I'll be any safer in there, but I'll have protection from the bullets.

I hear a volley of shots fire from where I left Two-Bit and the others in the ditch, my heart just about stops at the sounds of yelling and screaming. I think of Two-Bit and I can only hope we get out of this alive. The trees draw closer. I'm almost there. A bullet whizzes by my ear, just missing me by an inch. I lunge myself into the trees. I no sooner lean against a big banyan tree, drawing in deep ragged breaths of air when I hear a branch break.

I turn and find myself face to face with the enemy. I freeze.

He looks just as startled as me. The words, Kill or be killed, echo in my head. Its second nature now. I act on autopilot. Drawing the bayonet from the sheath around my belt, I run it straight through him before he even has the chance to respond. I feel his blood stain my hands. He's eyes widen in surprise and I'm struck by how young he is. Just a boy is all, probably no more than 14. He mutters some words in a guttural voice before slumping to the ground. I catch him in my arms and all I can think is, 'I've killed a boy, just a boy, caught up in a war probably neither of us wanted.'

Then the horror of my actions hit me. What have I done?! I grab him by the lapels of his battered coat.

Trembling, I lower his body to the ground. "I'm sorry … I'm so sorry … sorry … I didn't want to … didn't … sorry," I keep murmuring over and over again, my eyes filling up with tears. I hate this fucking war.

And I get it now. How Johnny felt all those years ago when he'd stabbed Bob. Taking a life is something that is indescribable in its raw intensity. I just took a life, watching it slip away before my very eyes knowing I'd caused this to happen.

"Better him than you," I hear a voice. It sounds callous and hard.

Larry stands there, he's been out here the longest, seen stuff of nightmares. He doesn't feel anymore, so he tells us. And I believe it. You just have to look at the hard lines of his face to know it's true. It reminds me of Dallas.

"Dry your tears, Curtis. It ain't worth it on him."

I drag myself to my feet, wipe my eyes. I swallow and avert my eyes from the sight of the dead boy's body lying limp on the ground.

"You'll get used to it, kid," he continues in a kinder but still gruff voice.

"I guess," I say not believing it. I don't ever want to get use to something like that.

I fight back the bile that rises in my throat.

Larry grabs me by the arm. His eyes take on a certain kind of wildness.

"You did it, Curtis. You saved what's left of us."

I did and what does he mean by what's left of us?

"Two-Bit ..." I begin feeling sudden dread.

Larry rests a hand on my shoulder.

"He's alright but you might not be after he's through with you."

Reinforcements came and we got a reprieve but not without our losses. Seven men were killed in action including our company commander, Captain Hewitt. Which shocked me as he'd just wished me good luck, 'may god be with you.'

And why me? Why do I get to survive?

Seven soldiers are dead and another six badly wounded in action. I ran for my life as a decoy and I get to live. Thoughts like that just mess with my head.

But there is no time to grieve as the battle continues, day after day. The eyes of the Viet Cong boy I killed haunt me in my sleep. I have blood on my hands. I'll never feel clean again.

July will be the month from hell. The shelling continues and so does the loss of life. We try to defend the hill for what it's worth but Charlie just keeps coming.

It's all sort of so surreal. I'm in a world that has to be make believe. I remember playing cowboys and Indians as a kid, how we were gonna blow all the Indian's up. Of course the cowboys always won but not out here. Out here nobody wins. Out here, killing is just killing and it's random; senseless. I guess it's always has been, I just never knew how much. Those old war movies I sometimes used to watch were full of lies. They don't even begin to capture the horror of what war is all about.

I can't think of a single thing to write in my letters to Soda and Darry. That world seems another lifetime ago. I don't think I'll ever get back to it. I know in my dreams, I keep running over one hill after another trying to find it; home. Only I never get there. I wake up feeling the hopelessness wash over me.

Now I just hold lifeless bodies, whether they're the enemy I've killed, or buddies who've been killed. I can't even begin to explain that, what that does to a person. I no longer know myself. I keep trying to hold onto something that no longer exists; maybe it's my innocence. Yeah, it's that - I'm losing that.

Johnny would have understood. If I could see him again, I would tell him how much I now know how he felt. I don't blame him for dying. Everyone has to die sometime. I think Johnny knew that too. I think he knew maybe it'd be hard to live with the thought of taking a life, even if it's to save another. I knew Johnny, I knew how much it burdened him. I think he was glad to die in the end, even though he was so scared at the start. After a while he knew perhaps it was for the best. I sometimes think that if I die here then it'd be for the best too. I just want it to be quick, either way I sure ain't gonna get home anytime soon and if I do, it'll never be the same. I'm a killer. I've become what I was trained to be. It's what I have to do to survive.

Even Two-Bit's humor can't change cold hard facts. I know he tries, tries to joke and make light in a world that no longer has any.

I don't try to stop him. I don't try to tell him there is nothing good about this place or what is left of us. But I already know deep down he knows that too. I see the pain in his eyes when he thinks no one is looking. I know he suffers just as much, if not more than the rest of us.

I know he says he wants to kill me for playing hero, but the relief I saw in his eyes when he saw me still alive will stay with me for ever. He didn't wring my neck, he just wrapped his arms around me and practically sobbed. Of course in the midst of those sobs was a lot of swearing. "Jesus, Pony. You're the closest I've ever been to anyone. God help me if anything happens to you. You're all that's good in this world, or what's left in it. I lose you … I lose all of my faith in anything."

It's a heavy burden to bear. Two-Bit's anguished words. I have to live with that, live with the thought of how much faith he has in me.

The days pass by as the battle continues, and I think for how much longer? Will they keep us out here till we're all dead? Till there is nobody left to fight?

On the 22nd the order came through for our evacuation. Relief is the only emotion I feel, it's palpable and it's real. Finally we're gonna get out of here. Now it's just a matter of getting off this mountain in one piece. The constant mortar rounds have already taken a heavy toll.

That night we don't talk much. Just in case. Hope is a risky thing out here. I swear I went through a whole pack of smokes. Two-Bit has even started nagging me about smoking so much.

And really … like who gives a shit, right? What does it matter?

At first light the Sergeants are moving us out of the bunkers. I manage to get a few hours, somehow, sheer exhaustion means I can fall asleep anywhere after a while.

We no sooner start making our way down the mountain towards the lower landing pad at Hill 805 when two of the eight Chinooks are hit by fire and go crashing to the ground. My heart sinks along with what little hope I had.

I hear Two-Bit swear and curse next to me. We exchange a worried glance. This is so not good.

We're ordered back to the bunkers to await further instruction.

Two-Bit and I perch ourselves on a rock, smoke cigarettes and sit in silence as we watch the action below us unfold.

From our position we can see the burning Chinook taking up a large part of the landing pad, meaning the other Chinooks can't land to get us all out.

We watch the huey's fly in to extract the soldiers among heavy mortar and gunfire. For now our hill isn't being shelled as the NVA focus solely on the lower landing pad trying to take out as many huey's and our own men as possible.

"Bastard's," I hear Two-Bit mutter. His voice is filled with anger and hate.

"We ain't gonna get out of here are we?" I murmur, drawing back on a cigarette. "Huey's can only carry six soldiers at a time and there is a couple of hundred of us scattered in various locations on the mountain." But I also know they'll keep trying to get us out no matter how bad it gets. No one gets left behind.

"We're getting out of here, Pony," Two-Bit returns in a grim, determined voice. "To hell with that. I ain't dying on this rock."

An hour later we're instructed to head up the hill to a landing pad that's not under such heavy mortar attack. The huey's will come in and get us all out.

We're constantly driven from our secure positions by exploding 155mm ammunition as we make our way up the hill, what is left of us run to the fire-base near the landing pad and attempt to secure a perimeter. I can see the NVA swarming up the mountainside towards us like ants, breaching the lower perimeter wires less than 100 yards away.

I'm firing my M-60 from the hip as we move from one position of another. I can see the huey from above, attempting to land under heavy gunfire, and I start praying. It don't matter shit all if I believe in God anymore or not. And I probably don't, but I'm desperate to get off this mountain - alive.

The last few weeks have been like living in hell. We're all desperate young men just wanting out of here.

"The chopper is down!" I hear Larry yell. "Let's run for it!"

My heart is pounding in my chest in my desperate haste to reach that chopper. I can smell gun smoke and napalm. That stuff burns the nostrils. Who the hell knows what we've been exposed to on this mountain?

I feel the bullet hit, tearing into my cheek and my foot catches on a tree root. I go crashing to the ground, my head smashing onto a rock. Stars explode before me as pain like a thousand knives stab into my head.

I lie there stupefied, not knowing if I'm alive or not. Everything is just white. I don't know if I'm even breathing. I don't feel anything. It's kind of strangely peaceful.

Johnny appears before me. For a moment I'm wildly happy to see him. "Johnny."

Something isn't right though.

"I'm sorry, Pony. It's not your time yet."

I see the pity in his eyes as I feel the panic rise up. "Don't send me be back there!" I try to scream. "I don't want to go back! You don't know what hell is!"

Everything fades before my eyes. I feel the pain clawing at me, dragging me back to the hell hole.

"J-o-h-n-n-y!" But my voice is silent screaming with no sound coming out.

The only sound I can hear is my own name. Someone is shaking me, yelling my name over and over again. It's the raw pain and sense of urgency in that voice that forces my heavy eyelids open.

"Ponyboy," Two-Bit gasps, his face caked with mud and tears. "Get the fuck up and let's get off this godforsaken mountain – now!"

He helps me to my feet, which I'm relieved to find are still working. Despite the pounding pain in my head, I manage to run towards the huey, praying desperately that we don't get hit by mortar that's falling all around us.

The gunner is motioning at us to hurry. "The Gooks are not far behind!"

I'm feeling uncoordinated and Two-Bit is half dragging me along.

The gunner and Larry, who I'm relieved to see alive, haul us inside. I go crashing to the metallic ground, feeling bile rise up in my throat. Everything is spinning crazily around me.

"That's all of them!" I hear the gunner yell. "Get us out of here!"

The huey seems to take forever to get off the ground. All I can hear is pained screams, it's the most awful sound, something I've heard too much off now. I manage to drag myself up and glance at the medic who is working on trying to sedate Private Thompson, affectionately known as Thommo.

My eyes fasten to what is left of his legs. Two-Bit's swearing under his breath. "Sweet Jesus. Fuck. Fucking hell."

Next thing I know, more bile is rising up in my throat. I lean over the edge of the chopper and throw up. I see the ground below. I see the gooks swarm the hill we'd just left moments before.

Tears are streaming down my eyes. For the first time since arriving in this hell hole I feel hate. It burns like battery acid in the pit of my stomach. The salt from my tears sting the left side of my cheek which I'd forgotten about in my haste to reach the huey.

I feel hands pull me back onto the seat next to them.

"Ponyboy," I hear Two-Bit call, his voice sounding distorted in my ears. "Jeez, Pony! Your face …"

Oh god, my face. It must be bad. Not as bad Thommo's legs. I still have a face, right? I can feel it.

"Take your helmet off," Two-Bit instructs.

I swallow, feeling like throwing up all over again. "What if my brains fall out?"

My words sound slurred and strange. I know it sounds stupid. I have my brain – right?

Two-Bit's swearing again. I feel him remove my helmet, tears are still rolling down my cheeks. I feel like shit. I wish I was dead. I could have been with Johnny. Right now I'd take anything to be out of this place, even if it meant dying.

"No brains spilling out, Pony," Two-Bit manages to quip, but his voice comes out more like a sob than a laugh.

"Jesus Christ," he exclaims holding out my helmet, which has a large sizable dent in it.

I numbly think what my head would look like if I hadn't been wearing a helmet. I'd be dead for sure. As it is, my head feels like jello, maybe my brains are all mushed up inside?

Mercifully, Thommo has stopped screaming and has blissfully passed out. My own vision begins to blur. I'm more terrified than ever. Something is seriously wrong with me. Seeing the helmet didn't help. It reminds me of just how close I came to death, yet again.

"W-What about my face?" I gulp. I remember the bullet slicing into my cheek. "I-I still have a f-face?"

"Yeah, left cheek is all bloody," Two-Bit begins and shoves a handful of gauze he grabs from the medic to the left side of my face. "There's a deep gash from the bullet ..." Two-Bit's voice drops off and he hisses.

His eyes are bright with unshed tears. "You're one lucky son of a bitch, Pony, if ever there was one."

That's three times he's said that to me now. I know I should take comfort from that, but I feel shocking and it's getting worse.

"I s-saw … J-Johnny," I manage to get out, but I can't seem to formulate the words in my head. "He s-said … I … I'm g-onna be sick."

Two-Bit quickly grabs a kidney dish and shoves it towards me just as I spew in it. Not that there's anything left in my stomach. It's just yellow bile coming out and it keeps coming. The world is spinning crazily around me once more.

"What's the hell wrong with him?" I hear Two-Bit yell in panic.

Someone flashes a torch light in my eyes. "He's concussed. Not much we can do for him. Just keep him still. Try not to let him fall asleep. Can't ever tell the seriousness of a brain injury till we get him to the hospital."

Quite suddenly the throwing up stops. The world begins to steady a little. I feel Two-Bit draw me back into his arms. He's holding me.

"It's alright, Pony. I got you."

But I'd already heard the medic's words; can never tell the seriousness of a brain injury.

"I'm … s-screwed n-now."

"Nah, Pony. Just hold on, you'll be fine. It's just a concussion. You've had it rough before. Been in enough rumbles to know."

I feel somewhat comforted for the first time in a long while. I had had a concussion before. In a rumble about four years ago. I remember how angry Darry had been. He wanted to belt the life out of the Soc that got me concussed. And he would have, if it meant not risk losing me and Soda to a boy's home. I briefly wonder what Darry's thinking right now. I imagine him taking in the sight of me, shaking his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. 'What's happened to you, Ponyboy?' I try to find the words but nothing comes out. I feel so ashamed. 'Don't look at me,' I tell him.

Then I shut the image out of my mind. Best not to think of home. I look across to the other side of the huey and I see Stephen's pale, drawn face. He made it out too. We're alive – just - barely. His eyes are full of dark, haunted shadows and I just know … we aren't ever gonna be the same again.

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A/N: As I said it was a tough chapter to write and I'm almost as desperate as Ponyboy to get off that mountain! In fact, I really just wanted this chapter over or someone else to write it! This was the last major battle for the soldiers in Vietnam. That means that Ponyboy and Two-Bit won't find themselves in such a hellish experience again, but it doesn't mean they are out of the woods either. Anything can still happen!

Reviews are muchly welcomed and appreciated, even if it's just to let me know you are enjoying the not so enjoyable experiences of our favorite characters! Or maybe to yell at me for putting them through this hell? Either way I just really love hearing what people think.

Thanks for reading.

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