Thanks for the reviews everyone! Varinia thanks for the tips…perhaps I shall use them in a future chapter. ;)

Here is another chapter…it is kinda long. I tried to do my best with an action sequence so let me know how you liked it. Also let me know if it's dragging…I have some ideas but don't know if I should keep going or end it soon.

Thanks!

Also, swearing in this chapter.

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Ponyboy:

The sweaty leaves of the trees clung to my face. I brushed them off with annoyance, trying to follow Doug who was escorting me to my station only a few feet away from where I had been earlier that night. "Here you are. Wanted to make sure you didn't get lost, Slick."

I chewed furiously at the inside of my cheek trying to bite back a sarcastic retort. Interestingly, Doug seemed to wait for it before saying, "Don is over there," he nodded to a guy crouched behind some shrubs. "Your backup, Tom, should be here any minute…"

"Don't worry, I know how to use this," I said holding up my rifle.

"And for that, I am glad." In an instant Doug switched from stern to considerate as he flashed me a rare smile. He strode off saying, "You know what to do Curtis."

Incredulousness flashed across my face. Was this guy for real?

I saw the leaving shadow of Doug shake hands with an approaching shadow of what I supposed to be my relief. As the shadow drew closer it boomed out, "Ponyboy? Ponyboy Curtis?"

Panicked, I craned to see if Doug was still in view. He wasn't. I blanched as the approaching figure came into full view. It was Tom Nichols; a Soc. Worse still, he had been one of the guys who hung around with Randy and Bob.

"Holy Shit! It is you. I'd never have believed it in a million years. How in the hell did you end up here?" His green eyes still held all the loathing they had carried for me in high school.

"What's it to you?" I asked trying to think of a lie but failing miserably.

Tom eyed me, a mix of mischief and malevolence in his voice. "I know you're not 18."

"Shut up," I hissed, wide-eyed. I had never thought I would run into someone from school.

Small world, stupid idea.

"No," he held up a hand. "Let me guess. The angelic Ponyboy Curtis bravely steps in to defend his country, enlists voluntarily, and the army is lucky to accept such a noble specimen of a child." He smiled wickedly.

"I'm surprised the army accepted such a fine specimen of a shit head," I snapped back.

"Flattery will only get you so far kid," he snarled. A heavy pause settled around us, and we glared at each other like two angry dogs evaluating the situation before jumping back in to fight. "Are you going to tell me or not?" Tom asked, apparently deciding on a less hostile tactic.

While trying to decide my options Tom said, "Or I can always go and ask HQ what a 15 year old is doing here?"

"Ok. Ok. I came for Soda." Defensively I clenched my jaw, waiting.

"Your brother?" Tom asked confused. Then he shook his head slowly and snorted cynically. "Ponyboy, is there a saint named after you yet?"

I almost chuckled at the notion of a saint being named Ponyboy. Instead I turned my back on him and went to my post. Tom followed and we settled into our spots; whether to fight with Vietcong or each other, I wasn't sure yet. Shaded by the trees and the night sky, I blended in easily with the shadows. I tried to concentrate and ignore what had just happened; I didn't want to be scatter-brained tonight. Stealthily, Tom shifted, letting out a long sigh. He fumbled in his pockets and slapped a pack of cigarettes against his thigh. He cursed lowly and I guessed his dilemma.

"Need a light?" I asked, blindly tossing my lighter his way. I heard it slap into his palm. Nice catch, I thought.

"Thanks," he mumbled, the flame illuminating his face. His quiet voice drifted over to me. "My brother got killed over here." Unsure of what to say, I stared off into the dark jungle. Tom and I had never gotten along. I guess it wasn't much of a stretch seeing as he was a Soc, and Soc and Greaser had never co-existed peacefully.

However, Tom and I had an eventful relationship. He was the Soc I had punched at school for saying: "At least one good thing came of Bob's death: two, filthy greasers were killed." I had never forgiven him for that and it seemed that he wouldn't forget the punch, for he advertised daily at school that I had 'something coming to me'. If it hadn't been for the diligent surveillance of Two-Bit and Steve, I'm sure I would have gotten that little 'something' right in the face.

"I'm sorry. I remember David," I said, refusing to let my voice to crack. My brain tried furiously to erase any images of Soda getting killed over here.

"I wouldn't have the guts to do what you did," he said lowly. He then began to quietly tell me about his older brother, putting an end to our long-running feud.

XXXX

Glory how I wished our backup would come; they were due in less then 30 minutes. The constellations in the sky blurred together as I tried to fight off sleep.

"Pony. Kid," Tom whispered. Groggily I turned to look across at him. Tom's rifle was aimed squarely at my face. "Don't. Move."

So this was it: Tom's revenge. Although I wouldn't have thought he would stoop so low. "Tom…" I stammered. "Wha-?"

A shot rang out. I felt it whiz by my ear, the hot breath of the bullet making me shiver. Spinning around, I let my breath out and stumbled backwards. Behind me lying on the ground was a Vietcong. His rifle lay slack in his grip, the right side of his face blown off.

"Gotcha!" Tom half-whispered, half-shouted. I turned towards Tom; eyes wide, face pale.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I said and bent my head to the ground, waiting for it. Nothing came. Then all of a sudden I remembered saying the exact same thing to Johnny on the night of Bob's death. This sure brought it all up.

Damn it, if this was how I dealt with shock, then I definitely needed to find a new coping mechanism. Vomiting wouldn't work for me.

Weakly lifting my head, I gaped at Tom wordlessly. The proud look slipped off his face, only to be replaced with a wide smile. Stepping away from his post to come closer to me he said, "You didn't-You didn't think I was aiming at you? Did you?"

My mute reply caused him to guffaw loudly. "Oh kid! Jesus! I'm not that twisted! Give me a little credit." I smiled wanly at him and stood up straight, saying, "Sorry guess it's a habit-"

Suddenly, a bullet ripped through the middle of Tom's chest and exited out the back in a blaze of bloody bits. Before he or I could make a move, another slammed into his neck, leaving Tom crumpled on the ground.

"Jesus Christ!" I shrieked. "Tom. Tom!" On my knees I sloppily tried to cover the gaping wound in Tom's throat. Too much blood covered my hands and I knew he was gone. Him and his brother both.

"CURTIS!" a voice roared behind me. It was Don, the other guy who had been on lookout tonight. He was gesturing frantically toward me. "Grab your gun, get the hell out of there! It's an ambush!"

I choked on a sob and snatched up my gun. Another bullet whizzed by, shattering the bark of the tree next to me. I jumped, tried to remember what I had learned and fired a shot at where the bullet had come from, not knowing if I hit the shooter.

"I don't know where in the hell that sniper came from!" Don told me when I reached him. "I radioed for backup. Goddamn Gooks. Sonofabitches," he cursed as bullets ricocheted around us.

Frozen, I sat there. Tom was dead. Why? For sticking his neck out for me. Literally. Hysterically, I laughed at my gruesome thought. Whoa there, Ponyboy. My first fight and already I go bonkers.

It was then that I realized that the guys from my squad were with me. Crock had found me in the dark and was shaking me back into reality. "Kid! Get with it!" he shouted.

"Yeah, Curtis. Didn't you get the invitation to the party?" AJ hollered in my ear and slapped me on the back. Then, gently he put my hands around my rifle and whispered, "Keep your ass low."

Shepard whooped loudly and fired a few shots into the dark night. "Think I got the bastard!"

Dazed, I somehow managed to pull it together. Sergeant Caplan and Doug were somewhere behind me shouting orders and firing rounds. I reloaded my gun and told Crock dumbly, "Tom's dead." Not hearing me, he whispered, "Cover me," and dashed into the line of fire. That definitely woke me up. This was reality. I was here. In war.

"Shit!" I muttered to myself. I wasn't going to let Crock get his ass killed under my care. My gun tailed him, scouting for Vietcong and I fired steadily at our ambushers, surprising myself with accurate aim. Trying hard to detach myself from the screams around me, the bullets flying by, the blood running, I just focused on what was right in front of me.

It was over before I knew it. The night air was dusty with gunpowder and bloody mist. My hands were still caked with Tom's blood. They came away from my gun with a sticky rip.

Sergeant Caplan and Doug milled around, surveying the damage. Doug scoffed, "A small ambush. Don't know why they even bothered. We slaughtered 'em all. They didn't have a chance." A few hoots and hollers followed this announcement.

"Don't get too cocky boys." Caplan interrupted the cheers. "This was a small one, but next time it could be bigger. I don't want to lose any more men, d'ya hear me? So keep on your toes and get your shit together." Stiffly, he averted my eyes and led Doug into the bullet-riddled tent.

"Nice cover Curtis," Crock said advancing toward me from his spot in the jungle. "Saved my ass, I'm sure." Reaching down he grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. "Shit kid, did you get hit?" Crock looked down at his hands, which had managed to pull off the blood from mine. He grabbed my shoulder as his eyes searched my body furtively for a wound.

"No. Tom got hit. He's dead."

Wincing, Tom dropped his arms. "Rough night for your first time huh?" he managed.

I nodded. Crock's eyes flickered past my shoulder and he started. "Oh no."

Pushing past me he ran to Shepard sitting stiffly in the middle of the camp. I followed and skidded to a halt when I saw AJ lying on the ground; bullets riddled his silent body. Shep had both hands pressed uselessly over the wounds. He didn't glance up at us.

"Hey man," Crock began, his face trying not to lose control. He knelt down next to them, felt AJ's pulse and sighed. Slowly he reached over and shut AJ''s staring eyes. "He's gone, Shep."

That did it.

"Fuck this!" Shepard screamed. "Who's gonna be the next to go? Me, huh? Might as well just take this," he pulled his handgun out of his belt and waved it in the air, "and save the gooks a bullet and do it myself."

I shut my eyes and stood silently, almost waiting for the crack of another bullet. Helplessly, Crocker looked between Shepard and me. Just then Doug stalked up, snapping bluntly. "Shep, don't do them any favors. AJ didn't." Crock and I stood aghast at his harsh tone as Doug then turned on his heel and strode off.

"Don't listen to him," said Crock weakly, his brown eyes large.

Broken, Shepard stared at me. He stared at my pale face, the blood on my hands and uttered a shuddering breath. Trying, but failing to compose himself, his face broke out into a sickening smile and he burst into tears. "Sorry. I can't take this," he blubbered. "I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

Shaking, I tilted my head up, blinking back threatening tears; tears for Tom and now AJ. With rising panic, I wondered whose promise I'd fulfill over here:

Dallas's and his, "You'd better wise up…you get tough like me and you don't get hurt. You look out for yourself and nothin' can tough you…"

Or Johnny's and his, "Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold."

I didn't think I could do both.

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What did ya'll think?

For anyone's information: I am familiar with war movies, but not overly familiar with situations/terms etc. So cut me some slack if it's not perfect.

The following quotes cited from The Outsiders, pages 128 and 130.