You know what really scares me? It sure ain't the Vietnamese. I've seen hundreds of them, and mostly they are just these skinny things with funny hats farming or doing some other equally mundane shit. It's hard to get all bunched up over people trying to grow some cilantro, right? And I guess I'm not really scared of getting shot either. I figure that as long as I'm doing my job, and that I'm being careful, I won't. I suppose it can't hurt to think to like that.
I'm not scared of dying either. Of being left in the trenches, all rotten skin and bones, lying in grunge. Like Kiowa. Or that skinny Vietnamese guy. Or Ted Lavender before he was taken away by the chopper.
What I am scared of though, is the unknown. That feeling you get when you have absolutely no idea what the hell is going to happen. Like you've got blinders on or something. See, it's like when you're a kid, and you wake up in the middle of the night thirsty as fuck. And you wander out of your room, only to find that what's separating you from the kitchen is a scary ass, pitch-black hallway. You almost turn back, but you're really thirsty, so you grit your teeth and inch forward, and you can practically feel the fear crawling over your skin. That's what the night life is. Fear crawling through your body every second of every night. But this time it never leaves you. It lives indefinitely underneath the topmost layer of your skin. It messes with your head, and you can never seem to forget it, to shake it off.
What makes it bearable though, are your buddies. Just hearing their light breathing, or the sounds of their muffled footsteps. The accidental bumps are a godsend. The clumsy jolt of an elbow against an arm or a shoulder against a shoulder, the skin on skin contact providing the reassurance words cannot. The togetherness is probably what is going to get me through this. Cause I'm sure as hell that if I didn't have these guys, I wouldn't even stand a chance.