The Jungle's Insanity

by Eagle

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 20184

A soldier begins seeing visions during his tour in Vietnam.

How long can this war possibly last? Are they real, or is it just my dreams? Have I truly lost my mind?

Even if it is insanity, it's the only escape I've got from this jungle...

Published 2013-10-31 21:00:08 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-23 03:10:02 UTC

A Reaction to Anxiety

For the most part, people don’t ask me about what I saw in Vietnam. They’ll ask me what I did, and I’ll say that I fought the same as most of our boys that went over there; but never what I saw. Maybe it’s because they’re more protestors that don’t like me, maybe it’s out of respect for what I did, maybe it’s because they’ll think I’m insane; and with what I’ve said I saw, they wouldn’t be far off…

My life was kind of normal for a guy at my age, more or less. I got out of high school a couple years ago, and I was working a little job at a little gas station nearby, and I was looking around for bigger things. My grandmother, who lived just a short ways down the street from us, also passed away at that time and left everything to us. Her house was still in good shape, so I could even count on getting my first real house soon. It wasn’t too bad for a twenty year old at the time. I was just another random American who grew up in the 50s who was starting to venture out into the world.

I didn’t really want to go straight to a college like a couple of my friends did; our little town on the California coastline was actually a ways away from any kind of higher learning. I would’ve liked to eventually, to be honest; problem is I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. Everything I looked at seemed only mildly interesting and important, even the important ones. It felt like I wanted to do something that would have a profound effect on the world, instead of just this little town. The answer to that finally came in the form of the army.

I remember my dad serving back in the Second World War with the 101st. From Normandy to Germany, yea he’d seen it all. I’d always looked up to him in a way; so understandably I was pretty happy when I got into the same division as him, even if he said he’d be proud of me no matter what I did. I just wanted to do more, make him proud, make my country proud…make myself proud. I wanted to do something that mattered; not so much for glory, more like honor. I can’t really explain it, it just felt like something I had to do; like destiny or fate or something.

My parents weren’t too thrilled about it, predictably. Mom nearly had a heart attack and kept babbling about how I was going to get killed by the Russians or some crazy nonsense; though maybe it wasn’t so out of this world. Dad took it more reasonably, but he was also more confused.

“Are you sure about this?” my Dad asked. “I don’t want you to die in some far off place no one knows about in some menial war that doesn’t affect anything.”

“Isn’t that what you did, Dad?”

“I fought a necessary war so that you wouldn’t have to, John.”

“War’s never going to end by itself, Dad; we have to end it.”

My sign up came when I heard things were heating up with Communists in some country called Vietnam. Fighting in some far-off jungle country no one had ever heard about; it sounded like what our marines went through in the Second; wasn’t anything like that, though. This war was an entirely different beast. I signed up out of my own free will; I wasn’t going to wait for them to start up a draft and drag me in.

Maybe my dad’s soldiering passed down to me. Boot camp wasn’t very fun, as expected; but I did show some certain qualities the army was looking for in men. I wasn’t exactly officer material, but apparently I was good enough to lead a squad. A little extra time for an NCO post and higher pay; sounded like a steal to me. So, I shipped off to this jungle in the middle of God-knows-where together with my friends and squad mates; people I had already made a strong bond with just in boot camp. Staff Sergeant John ‘Deer’ Denell; that’s who I left as.

I’ll remember sitting on that plane and landing in Da Nang forever; it was like stepping onto another planet. The plane ride itself was also unforgettable; not because something happened or what some of my friends did, but because of a short nap I took. That’s when I met them…

“So, how long you think this war is gonna last?” the specialist sitting next to me asked.

“A week maybe?” I joked. “Or maybe we should ask the pilot to re-route this bird to Hanoi and let us demand an unconditional surrender right now.”

“Very funny, Sergeant.”

Specialist Wilson was the squad’s radioman and ‘fresh face’. He seemed to make sure everything went the way it was supposed to go, though not to the degree that it made him an absolute buzz kill. To him, things were usually pretty official, for the most part. Still, I’d rather have an official guy who was good at his job than a lazy guy who sucked at it, especially when it came to the radio carrier. Being official meant you listened to the rules, and that would keep you alive…most of the time, that is.

“But really,” Wilson said. “How long? A few years, maybe? It took the French forever before they were kicked out, if I recall right.”

“Well we aren’t the French, huh Deer?” another squadmate, Bishop, replied from his seat behind us.

What a lot of people thought was that a squad was only around five guys, but it was actually more like ten. These squads are broken down into fire teams four men each; a team leader, a grenadier, a rifleman, and an automatic rifleman. The team leader does exactly what it sounds like he does, lead the team; and the TL as we called it was usually a regular Sergeant. The rifleman was there mostly just to balance out the firepower with a normal rifle while a grenadier’s weapon was equipped with a grenade launcher at the bottom, hence the name, and the auto rifle carried a machine gun for heavy fire. Including myself and Wilson, my squad had ten men in it; ten friends that I’ll never forget.

“I don’t know how long it’ll take, guys. But the quicker we get there the quicker it’ll be over with,” I said.

God, I wish I had been right about that.

“I sure hope you’re right, Sergeant,” Wilson said.

“You really should stop worrying about it, Spec.”

“Yea sir, but…you mind if I ask you something, sir?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you…well…are you a little worried you…might not come back?”

“You’re asking if I’m scared,” I replied, not so much as a question as restating what he said in a simpler form.

“Well, yes sir, to put it bluntly. I am a little,” Wilson said. “Even after all the training, there’s still a chance of it happening. I know if just one thing goes wrong, or someone screws up, or if we just run in on some bad luck, someone could die.”

“We just have to be careful,” I replied. “It’s not like its World War Two; we just need to work as a team and we’ll get out with no problem. These guys aren’t like the Japanese or Germans, they’re not well trained. The enemy in this country is a bunch of inexperienced kids running around the jungle with guns. The Chinese and Russians gave them some equipment, and their leaders filled their heads with ideas of a Communist utopia. They don’t have a clue what they’re about to go up against.”

I stopped and looked down at the floor of the plane for a minute.

“But, to be honest, I am a little nervous, too.”

“So, you’re like us, huh sarge?” Wilson asked.

“We’re all thinking about it, Wilson,” Corporal Lee added. “I was pretty good at baseball back home, might even be able to go Major League. You think I’m not scared of having that dream stolen from my by some fanatic rat in the jungle with a gun?”

“It’s just human nature to be scared,” Bishop said.

It was the first time I’d ever heard him call me ‘Sarge’ instead of Sergeant. Usually when he started acting deep like this, his official sense went away. I kind of wanted to correct him; the ‘Sarge’ nickname had been put down in the dirt, at least at my training camp. I guess some habits die harder than others.

“Yea, and I’m human, too. But, who wouldn’t be a little worried?” I asked. “The threat of your life, everything you’ve ever worked for, just ending in a flash like that; it’s creepy. Still, someone’s got to do it, and that’s us.”

I slouched back in my seat, not wanting to explain much more.

“So, there’s the basics of it for ya’, squad,” I said, closing my eyes. “Now if you all don’t mind, I’d like some shut-eye before we reach Da Nang.”

I thought I heard a ‘yes sir’ to my side, but I just ignored it. I had actually been up early in the morning to get ready for the trip. An uncomfortable seat and noisy plane wasn’t going to stop me from getting some rest. I’ve always wondered what would happen if I didn’t take that nap.

I am not the kind of guy who has strange dreams; and even when I do, I don’t remember them. Nope, most of the times it’s close eyes, darkness, open eyes again; same thing over and over. But I knew something was different in this dream; for one thing I knew I was in it.

“What?” I asked, opening my eyes and waking up.

Where ever I was, it was dark; it felt rather odd, too. Rubbing my eyes, I felt some leaves hitting my skin. Lying on my back, I could tell I was in a bush; or rather, a large group of bushes. It was pretty thick, too. I couldn’t see any sunlight coming through, or maybe it was just night time.

“When the hell did this happen?” I asked. “Wasn’t I sleeping? Wait, am I dreaming?”

As if to answer my question, I heard noises; more specifically, voices. They sounded rather…feminine, like a bunch of little girls playing a game. It sounded rather…happy, a different kind of happy than the kind I felt; something warmer and…calming to it.

Sitting up, I also noticed I wasn’t in my uniform. Everything that I had with me was gone. The only thing I had was a white t-shirt and a pair of shorts and shoes from home. Of course, why would I need my military gear in a dream like this, or any dream for that matter?

“Alright, Pinkie; one game of hide-and-seek.”

That was a rather odd name.

“Oh, thanks!” I heard one of them squeal. “It’ll be real quick; I promise!”

I reached my hand through a cluster of leaves moved them aside, making a hole in the thick bush. The sunlight streamed in immediately and I had to shut my eyes for a minute to adjust. When I opened them, what I saw was a little stunning to me.

Those voices had come from horses; well, not real horses, but some kind of equine. No, these horses were colored like crayons, they were small, and they looked rather odd; it seemed like a little girl’s cartoon to me. It only got worse when I noticed that two of them had wings and another two had horns. And their talking just lost me completely.

I shook my head lightly before coming to a final realization; this is a dream, it’s supposed to be like this. My surprise turned into fascination and I began to ask why I would dream this type of thing. I don’t usually dream, and when I do, it isn’t something like this. Does this mean something?

“One….two…three...”

Looked back through the opening and saw the pink one counting with her head hidden against a tree stump. The others were rushing about finding spots to hide in. They seemed like a bunch of innocent children on a playground.

That’s also when I realized something I didn’t want to admit right away; they were adorable. Really, they were just unbelievably cute. They looked kinder than a basket of kittens and puppies. I don’t know why, nor can I thoroughly explain it, but they made me feel like a kid again.

There were six of them in total, each different from the last; not just in color, but in the personality they gave off. For example, there was white one who’s hair, or mane I think, was done in a very elegant style; as if some high up barber had done her hair. The blue tomboy with rainbow hair flew up high in the clouds for her spot. I was pretty sure that was cheating; there was no way the little pink one could get up there without wings. It all seemed so childish in a good way, like there was something still pure in the world.

Unfortunately, the purple one chose my hiding spot as hers, as well. Before I even noticed it, a purple unicorn jumped into my bush, and fell on top of me. Both of us were knocked down to the ground and grunted a good deal as we sat back up.

I was a little surprised, but not frightened; it was, after all, just a dream. Sure, I’d never had a dream like this before, but it was still a dream; and dreams can’t hurt you. To me it was an interesting turn of events that could lead out in any number of directions. Her reaction to me, on the other hand, was a bit more extreme; her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open, just like something out of a cartoon, which made perfect sense to me. I just continued to stare back into her gaze, waiting for something to happen. Apparently, she had never seen anything like me before, either, which was also a little strange. I expected the dream to stop there, but it didn’t. Instead, the purple horse spoke one question to me.

“Wha-what…are you?”

That was when I woke up.

“Staff Sergeant, wake up,” Wilson said.

“Huh?”

“We’re over Vietnam now, sir. It’s Just outside your window.”

I looked out of my window and was greeted by a sight that seemed so beautiful at the time. The country below us was lush and green; as if man had never touched this corner of Earth before. The jungle rolled on and on over the mountains and hills in an endless sea of green, punctured only by tiny dots and lines of villages and dirt roads.

“Doesn’t look all that bad, huh?”

“It’s hard to believe that place down there is full of guys that want to kill us,” I said, being totally honest.

“Best believe it, Sarge; it’s true,” Private Silver said. “From what I’ve heard from the instructors here, it’s all too real.”

The United States had actually been sending instructors to South Vietnam since the 1950’s, back when we were still knee deep in Korea. It had all started under Eisenhower as a limited support mission to teach the South to fight against Communists, and that was it. Our advisors had never been directly targeted by the Communists.

The next president was Kennedy, and he tried to follow the same basic steps. But as it continued growing, avoiding it directly became difficult. He had to begin increasing the numbers of advisors; sending in Green Berets and creating the MCAV, Military Assistance Command-Vietnam, to further their education. No matter what he did, he was killed in Dallas by a sniper, and then Lyndon Johnston took the office, and the war.

“So, how long were we going to be spending here?” Wilson asked again.

“I don’t know, Wilson,” I sighed, getting tired of his asking. “They told us it would take around eight weeks for the bombing to take effect.”

“Just eight weeks? Then why are they sending the division’s first brigade here next year; and us, by extension.”

The Maddox incident occurred earlier this year, when three North Vietnamese torpedo boats attacked the destroyer U.S.S. Maddox in the Gulf of Tonkin. In response, congress passed the Gulf of Tonkin resolution, giving Johnston the means to take whatever steps he saw necessary to win. His first retaliation was going to be a strategic bombing on the North; no doubt he planned to send troops like us in regardless.

“Because whether or not the bombing is effective, they need people on the ground to finish the job; they can’t count the bodies from thousands of feet up in the air,” I explained.

“Nor can they find the Viet Cong,” Bishop said.

The Viet Cong had many names; VC, Victor Charlie, etc. They were the Communist guerrilla force that was active in South Vietnam. Growing up in the fifties, we had all heard about the ‘Red Scare’ with secret Communist sympathizers and guerrillas threatening an uprising in the states. Most of those fifth columnists proved nothing more than paranoia fanned by people like Senator Joe McCarthy. But here, it was all too real; the explosions, the Communists, the lack of trust you could have for anyone in a country you didn’t even know.

“Hey Deer, we’re landing; stop daydreaming and put your belt back on like the pilot said,” Silver said. “What would happen if the plane crashed and you got killed before the war even got started?”

I hated to admit that he was right, I daydreamed a tad too much.

“Doesn’t really matter if we go down or not,” I replied jokingly. “We’re airborne; our job is to jump out of planes.”

“Not into a jungle that thick, we’re not,” Bishop said. “We’re using helicopters here, thank God.”

“You and them fancy new flyin’ machines,” I said in a drawl. “You got no respect for tradition, boy.”

“If tradition means getting my chute caught in a tree and breaking bones, then you’d be right,” he said in return. “I didn’t go through training like that and come all the way here just to get killed by a tree.”

“Boy, you’d better change that attitude of yer’s before the rest of the one-oh-one divi gets out here.”

The 101st wasn’t really due into the country until the next year, 1965. We got sent in ahead as just a little ‘forward recon’ as we called it, looking around and learning on how things worked so that the men that came in would have someone to lead them; ‘no combat missions yet’, they said. It felt like an honor, being the first 101st boots to be on the ground in the country, even if we weren’t going to be doing anything for a year’s time.

That must have caught an officer’s attention; having a squad of well trained, well-armed, fresh soldiers lazing about base for a year just learning what kind of plants can give a guy a bad rash. When it’s put that way, I wasn’t a fan of it either. Either way, our little dream of ‘getting acquainted’ with the country for a year ended as soon as we got off the plane and an officer said we could be requisitioned by any unit in need of our services, whatever those might be. It felt a little like being played or used at first, but we weren’t exactly in a position to argue; that’s not how the army works, challenging some order because you want to be lazy. I told the guys that we would just have to get used to it.

“Hey Bishop,” I called. “Mind if I ask you something?”

He shot a confused look at me before replying.

“Uh, yea, shoot Deer.”

“I’ve told you guys that I don’t dream a lot, right?”

“No,” he said.

“Oh…well I don’t,” I explained. “Usually I just close my eyes, open them, and pop; it’s a few hours later and I’m recharged and ready. I don’t dream.”

“You never had a dream before?”

“No no, I have. It’s just that when I do, it’s something menial or stupid that lasts two seconds and I forget what it’s about as soon as a wake up.”

“Oh yea, I’ve had those plenty of time,” he replied. “Where are you going with this, Sergeant? Did you have one during your nap?”

“Yea, except it wasn’t one like that, it’s one I can remember perfectly.”

“Really?” he asked. “Huh, well what was it about?”

“Now no jokes about me pussying out or anything like that, cause this is getting to me legit. When I fell asleep, I realized at once that I was dreaming,” I said.

“You mean a lucid dream.”

“Yea, that’s it,” I replied. “And when I was there, I was in a bunch of bushes, and when I looked through them, there were these horses there, except they weren’t horses; they were smaller and each was painted a different color.”

“That does sound weird, Sarge.”

“It gets weirder,” I explained. “Apparently, they could talk, and each one sounded like a little girl. They all acted like humans; hell, they even looked kinda like humans here and there. They were playing a game of hide-and-seek and then the unicorn runs-”

“Whoa, hold up; you said a unicorn?”

“Yea, there were unicorns and pegasi there, too.”

“That’s nuts, man.”

“But yea, they were playing and there was this purple unicorn and she jumped into my bush for a hiding spot. When she ran into me, she looked a little stunned and asked me what I was before I woke up again.”

Bishop looked at me like I was trying to mess with him, but must have realized I was being honest with him.

“Jeez, sir,” he said. “I don’t know what to say; might have made a joke if you hadn’t told us not to…”

“Why did you think I dreamt of that” I asked Bishop. “Do you think it’s symbolic; like it’s supposed to mean something?”

“Ah, I don’t know, Sergeant; I’m not a psychiatrist,” he said. “If you honestly want to know what I think, it was probably just a reaction to the anxiety of coming here.”

“You think so?” I asked.

“I guess so; you’re a little nervous and your head is just trying to deal with it,” he suggested. “I really wouldn’t worry about it if I were you; there are more important things to fret about.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said.

God I wished he was right, but…maybe I’m glad he was wrong…

“I hope so, too,” he said. “But like I said, it’s just a dream, while this is the real world. We have to worry about things in the real world, things we can control.”

“Yea…yea.”

The plane began its descent, and the canopy of the jungle became flatter and flatter as the bird’s eye view turned back to normal. The contact was a bit bumpy as the back wheels of the plane hitting the tarmac, but the aircraft soon stopped where it was scheduled to and powered down. Stepping off, we were greeted by an officer in a neat, rather official looking uniform.

“Hey, are you the guys from the 101st?” he asked.

“Yes sir, that’s us,” I replied, “you going to be taking us to our new home, sir?”

“That’s it, Sergeant,” he said. “Let me be the first to welcome you all to Vietnam.”

This was the beginning of my journey, the one I never saw coming. It started with the war and ended with the war. Indeed, the war’s journey and my own seemed intertwined at some points along the road. So that’s where our journey started; in Da Nang in late 1964.

Year one, day one, hour one.

Author's Note

This is written in memory of all veterans of the Vietnam War. Thank you for reading.

Y'know they say the World War Two guys were the best generation; well, those who fought every war since then were the best of their generation. They went, they served, they sacrificed, and they fought like tigers; they were noble.

-Correspondent Joseph L. Galloway

New Friends and Newer Friends

Most of the time we spent around the barracks at first, just screwing around or doing whatever. It sure didn’t feel like we were in a war. It felt more like a vacation with some high school friends. We passed the time by joking, drinking, playing games, listening to music. I also didn’t dream any during this time, so everything was ok for the most part.

Home really didn’t feel all that far away, especially since this was going to be our home for a while. With all the fun I was having around the base, it felt more like a summer camp. Nothing was very threatening about this country at the time.

But, inevitably, we had to venture out, and Mother Nature was a lot harsher up close than from a plane in the sky. Everything about this place was dangerous, come to find out. The advisors already there and the South Vietnamese began to lead us on little tours and tell us what to watch out for.

The jungles were the biggest problem, with over three-fourths of the country covered in it. Filled with big plants and tall trees, the trainers said it was perfect ambush ground for the VC. And it wasn’t just a hiding ground for the commies; there were pests, too. Swarms of mosquitoes, massive rats, and dozens of different species of snakes we had to watch out for. There were so many different things that could kill us naturally; I was starting to think I had a better chance of dying from the jungle rather than getting shot.

I hated this terrain, it felt so…constricting. Everything was so thick and unknown in every direction that I had to stay on the path; the same path the enemy wanted to ambush me on. I felt like I couldn’t control it, and I hated it. And the rain…the damned rain; there was so much of it. We got rain back in my town, but here it was heavy and endless. And if you got caught in a storm in the jungle, everything about life in that period of time was just deplorable.

The next thing we had to learn about was the marshes, which weren’t quite as bad for me, personally, but still bad all the same. The water we had to wade through was thick, muddy, and could come up to your shoulders, requiring you to hold your weapon over your head to keep it dry. The water itself was filled with leeches, snakes, and other nasty pests. I wanted to start shooting the wildlife more than Charlie.

And after we got out of neck-high water, we went into Elephant grass that towered over us. This stuff was taller than most men, and had ends that were razor sharp. Cutting through this stuff was exhausting and painful in itself. After a while, we finally got used to it, to a degree.

The biggest threat of all was, of course, our enemy, the Viet Cong. We were told about their tactics and strategies; most of the time they hid out in tunnels and villages or deep in the jungles instead of coming out to fight directly. Going along this path, they also made hit-and-run attacks, bombings, and left booby traps for us in the form of mines and Punjabi steaks.

The enemy combatants could actually be broken into two groups, the North Vietnamese Army, or the NVA, and the VC. The NVA was the official army of the North and was better trained and equipped for a fight than the VC. The Viet Cong were home grown guerillas from South Vietnam, usually dressing as civilians and making them harder to identify.

“Helluva way to fight,” I remember Bishop saying. “Hide where we don’t want to go, dress as the people we don’t shoot, and attack in ways we can’t defend.”

“We’ll just have to pick and dig ‘em out,” I replied.

“Yea, but I wonder what would happen if we fought them in the same way, y’know?”

Bishop was always thinking of a new way to get the job done, and he deserved his position in the squad. As I said earlier, squads are broken down into two four-man fire teams. Sgt. Bishop was the leader of fire team ‘Alpha’ with rifleman Pvt. Silver, grenadier PFC. Noriko, and auto-rifle Cpl. Lee. Fire team ‘Bravo’ was made up of Sgt. Benjamin, Cpl. Davis, PFC. Taylor, and Pvt. Terry. This was the starting roster for the squad on our first tour.

Everything around the airbase at Da Nang was normal for a good amount of time. I didn’t dream anymore, which furthered the idea that it was just a one-time deal. That idea, and our idea of an easy stay on guard duty, ended with our first little firefight, along with many other things.

“Hey, Deer,” Sgt. Benjamin called, interrupting a card game between myself and Silver; one I was winning, I might add.

“Something up?”

“No, just saying hey; and I do sleep in the bunk you’re sitting on.”

“Oh, sorry; we’ll move if you want.”

“No, it's fine. Just thought of getting a little rest, but you guys can finish up first.”

“We are finished,” I said.

“What makes you think that, Sarge?” Silver asked with a sly grin on his face.

Before I could answer, Benjamin interrupted us again.

“Wait, you guys hear that?”

We stopped talking and listened closely.

“There it is again.”

I heard it that time; it sounded like a muffled roar.

“Yea, I hear it,” I said.

There was another roar, this one louder and more distinct; probably closer.

“Sergeant, are those…explosions, maybe?”

“Is there anything else it could be?”

I wasn’t being sarcastic; I really wasn’t sure if anything else made a sound like that.

“Should we go check?”

“I…I think they’ll come get us if they need us; we might just get in the way of something important.”

“But, what if-”

The door to our barracks swung open, giving us an answer.

“You!” a Second Lieutenant yelled. “Are you the airborne guys?”

“Yes sir!” I replied.

“Don’t you hear what’s going on? Get out here!”

“We hear it sir, but…are they really explosions?”

The officer looked at us, stunned for a minute.

“Of course they are! What in the hell else would they be!?”

“Sir, I’m not sure, sir!”

“Well, get out here and see what they look like!” he ordered. “And bring your gear, too.”

“Yes sir.”

The men didn’t need to be asked twice; we may be inexperienced, but we were still trained. We each grabbed our individual weapons for our jobs, my personal one being a normal M16 Assault Rifle. The TLs also had M16s, grenadiers had their M16s and M79s, the riflemen had M14s, and the auto-rifles had M60 Machine Guns. We also strapped on whatever articles of clothing we weren’t wearing; helmets, boots, and whatever else was needed.

Once we finally looked presentable, we shuffled outside quickly. The scene was like something out of a movie; explosions were going off here and there almost randomly; a building here would crumple and collapse, a plume of dirt would rise up, some vehicles turned into fireballs. I could also see some of the planes parked out in the open damaged and burning; that would be a real pain for the Air Force.

“Ok, 101st guys,” the officer called us.

“Sir,” I replied, leading the men over to him. “What’s happening, sir; are we under attack?”

“No, everything is just randomly blowing up for no fuckin’ reason, rookie,” he snarled, then sighed and rubbed his head. “Look, I’ll explain things to you guys. Just follow me, and please save your questions until the end of the tour.”

He started walking along casually towards the gate, while we flinched every time an explosion went off.

“To answer your earlier question; yes, we are under attack. The VC is throwing mortars at us from a position a ways away from the base, somewhere in the field to the northwest along the path. I’m short on men, so you guys are going to go with one of the squads from the 1st Cavalry to try and find them.”

He stopped next to a couple of running personnel carriers, along with another waiting squad.

“You can ride with 2nd squad in the M113s; they’ll drive you down the path to search for anything. If you do find anything, report it back. You, radio!”

“Sir, Specialist Wilson, sir!”

“Alright, Wilson, we’ve got a couple of Huey helos for a fast response force. They’re already armed and fueled. If you guys run into any trouble just call ‘Whiskey’ over the radio three times and they’ll be at your position as soon as they can.”

“Yes sir got it.”

“Ok, you 101st guys had better be as good as they say you are; mount up and get it done. 2nd Squad, you guys take the lead APC.”

“Got it,” the other staff sergeant said, ordering his squad in.

“You heard him, squad,” I said. “In you go.”

The ten of us crammed into the carrier, taking up most of the space inside. The lighting came from the bulb inside the compartment, as well as sunlight from the gunner’s hatch that led to the machine gun on the track’s roof. The conditions were rather cramped, but it was better than walking all the way there.

The machine lurched forward a bit, and we were on our way. We didn’t have any way to look outside, so there was no telling how far we were from the base, just how long we’d been driving. Everyone in the squad seemed to have that same sense of reality enter them in a different way, all coming together in the message ‘this is happening’.

“Hey, you guys really from the 101st?” the driver asked over the noise.

“Uh, yea, we are,” Lee answered, being the closest one to him.

“What are ya’ll doing out here? I thought you guys were back stateside.”

“They’re planning on sending the 1st Brigade here next year; we’re just here to see how things work.”

“Huh, well get ready for a rough education.”

“We already had an education,” I replied. “They told us about the bad guys and we’ve gone out into the jungle.”

“Hearing about Charlie is one thing; actually fighting is another thing all together.”

“And that’s what we’re out here for right now.”

“Maybe you’ll catch some today, maybe you won’t,” the driver said. “Victor, you see anything?”

“Na, nothin’ yet,” the APC’s .50 Machine Gun operator replied.

“Keep your eyes open.”

“Damn, I’d hate to be him,” Lee said.

“Why’s that?” Noriko asked.

“Because, his position leaves his upper body exposed to small arms fire; one sniper bullet and bam, it’s over.”

“And you’d rather be down here where we can’t shoot back?”

“Shooting or not, this thing is called ‘Armored’ for a reason.”

“The Aluminum protects us from bullets, Lee,” Bishop chimed in. “Some VC with a rocket launcher gets a shot off, and we’re all dead men.”

“They’ve got rockets!?”

“RPGs.”

“Damn, you’re screwing with me.”

“Nope, goes right through this hull like an arrow through a sheet of paper.”

“What the hell is the-”

The conversation was interrupted by a strange noise, something that sounded like it was ricocheting off of the hull. I felt the carrier lurch to an immediate halt as soon as it started, and the gunner on top was firing his weapon on some direction. Everything changed in a matter of two seconds.

“Taking small arms fire!” the driver yelled. “Get out! Get going!”

It took me a second to realize this, but not too long, thankfully.

“Ok, squad dismount! Get out and return fire!”

I was the one closest to the door, so I was also the first one out. I ducked my head under the roof and jumped out to the right side of the vehicle, holding my gun in my right hand. There wasn’t much cover outside; on both sides were fields with tall grass that concealed the enemy, wherever he was. Only thing that was there for us was a dry ditch on both sides of the dirt trail, which I immediately jumped into.

The rest of the squad followed my lead in. I looked forward towards the trail and noticed the other squad had already started getting outside. As the last soldier was climbing out, facing my direction, I saw his green shirt move a bit, simultaneous with a little red and brown puff on his side. We both immediately knew what had happened, and I saw his face change from a simple, serious get-the-job-done look to one of realization with wide eyes and an open mouth.

He had been shot, and when he realized it, he clutched at his side with his hand, dropping his M16. I saw his face change again to one of pain; his eyes clenched shut and grinding his teeth. He took another step, but tripped and fell into the dirt on his right side, back facing me. The mere fact that he wasn’t looking at me anymore was a blessing, I later thought, as he was hit again on his other side. This time I saw the blood and meat pop out from the back of his side and fall to the ground, like popping a zit. It all happened in about one or two seconds, but it felt like it was going in slow motion.

I heard another one of his squadmate yell something, and then reached up and dragged him into the ditch. God, that scene; it felt horrible. Every shot of it was imbedded in my mind, playing over and over. The sight of an ally lying on the ground, even if I didn’t know him, shook my soul.

“Staff Sergeant!” Wilson yelled. “Sir, what do we do!?”

I returned from my brief trip to reality; everything was still happening.

“Call in the helos! Return fire until they get here!”

“Sir, I can’t see them!” Bishop yelled.

“Aim for any muzzle flashes you see in the grass!” I ordered. “Bravo team, take cover in the ditch on the other side of the road! Cover the left flank!”

“Yes sir!” Benjamin said, leading his squad in a quick sprint across the dirt trail to the other side.

I heard Wilson yelling 'Whiskey Whiskey Whiskey' into the radio while we shot back. Our own return fire was rather sporadic, save for the auto-rifles. They quickly began to fire off long streams of bullets into the grass while the rest of us took potshots. The guns on the APCs were still firing, and looking back, I think it was them that kept the enemies away, as they were more elevated than us. I myself waited, looking around for a target. Eventually, I saw a quick flash in the grass at my side. I watched the area until there was another flash from the same spot. I raised my gun and looked down the sights, aiming at the area. When the third flash appeared, I pulled the trigger and sent a burst into the grass.

There was a quick disturbance in its stillness, and the corpse of an enemy combatant fell through, flattening it. He was dressed in some ragged, white clothes and had dark black hair; probably in his mid-twenties. The AK assault rifle he was carrying also fell to the ground; no doubt it would probably get picked up by the enemy after we left to be used against us again.

My study of his corpse was interrupted by a whirling sound in the air that brought me back to reality. The UH-1Cs, the gunship version of the original Huey, came in at a low altitude and began to fire off rockets from their pods into the fields. I thought I saw a body or two go through the air, but I tried to ignore it. The helicopters then moved in closer, shooting individual hostiles with their machine guns.

Then, everything went quiet, save for the noise of the helicopters rotors and the APC’s engines. The gunfire and screaming stopped. One of the helicopters nosed right, gained altitude, and fired a final burst of rockets off somewhere in the deep field.

“Sir, orders coming in,” Wilson announced. “The Hueys spotted and killed the mortar position, we can return to the base now.”

“Ok,” I sighed. “Ok…mount back up and let the drivers know if they don’t already, I’ll be with you guys in a sec.”

I walked over to where the other squad was. They were currently working on one of their wounded soldiers, but it wasn’t the one I saw. No, the one I saw was dead, his corpse lying flat on its back. His face was completely expressionless now, devoid of any feeling of life. I had always thought the eyes just automatically closed when someone died, but his were open. They stared off into oblivion, glassy and empty. It was like staring at a glass jar with nothing inside of it to the other side.

“Sergeant, we have to get going!” Bishop called. “We can’t wait here all day; the enemy will be back any minute!”

“Yea! I’m…I’m coming,” I said, stumbling back over to the M113.

By the time we got back, the sun was starting to set. The officer from before walked up to the carrier as we were getting out and thanked us for the help and congratulated us on making it through our first fight with the enemy. The sergeant from the other squad said something too, but I wasn’t listening to any of it. I couldn’t even listen to what my own squad was saying. All I wanted to do was get a shower and crawl into my bunk and sleep.

And I did just that, or I tried to. As I lay there in the darkness, my mind kept flashing back to the soldier that was killed. What if that had been me; or one of my men? It very well could be one day.

Then it went back to re-living the whole scene. The first shot of him climbing out, the second of his face and it’s rather average expression of determination. Then it changed up to the expression of realization, then to that of pain and fear. Then, finally, the shots of falling to the Earth, the killing blow, and being dragged into the ditch; and lastly, the image of his deceased, soulless face haunting longer than any of the previous ones.

This kept repeating itself. No matter what else I tried to think about, it kept coming back to that. Go through the suffering of each shot, unable to do anything, and repeat. Even as I finally began to fall asleep, they haunted me. There was just no escape.

“No!” I thought. “No, just stop! Just! Stop! Please! No! NO DAMNIT NO!”

“No, stop it! Stop! Ahhh!” I started to scream out loud, unable to keep it bottled in my mind anymore. “AHHH! UGGGHNNNNNAHHHH! END IT! NOW!”

“What’s happening!?”

I heard that voice and everything stopped, and my world was one of bliss. I realized that the voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite figure out who it belonged to. It sounded rather feminine.

I opened my eyes and realized I wasn’t in bed, but lying on the ground in some grass. The sun was up in the sky, bright and clear. I looked to my right and was greeted by a purple unicorn, the same one I had saw in my dream on the plane.

“It’s you!” she said. “Are you alright? Is something hurting you?”

“No, I’m fine,” I answered honestly, my mind finally clear. “And…yea; I remember you, too.”

“You do!?” she asked. “Oh yes yes yes yes!”

“What?”

“You see, girls?” she said, jumping in a circle around me. “I told you I wasn’t lying!”

I was approached by five other horses, the same ones from my earlier dream.

“Whoa,” the blue one said. “He looks kinda…weird.”

“Well, of course he does! He’s not from here!” the purple one exclaimed. “And that means he’s an alien! Oh, you have to tell me everything about your planet! What’s it like? How many of you are there? Why is-”

She was quickly silenced by a hoof from the orange one.

“Uh, maybe you should calm down, Twi,” she said in a southern accent. “We ain’t even told ‘em our names yet.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a blush. “I tend to uh…get carried away with studying new things.”

The embarrassment just made her look even cuter.

“Hey, it’s cool,” I said. “Not every day an alien falls in here, right?”

“Yes, but we really should introduce ourselves first,” she said, “My name in Twilight Sparkle.”

That was an interesting name; kinda funny.

“I’m Pinkie Pie!”

Were they all going to be like this?

“I’m Applejack.”

Yea, they were.

“I’m Rainbow Dash, fastest flier in Equestria!”

“Equestria, is that where I am?” I asked.

“Yea, that’s what our country is called,” Twilight explained. “But, let’s finish introductions first. This is Rarity.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, darling,” the white unicorn said.

“And that’s Fluttershy,”

The yellow Pegasus hid her face behind her hair, or mane I guess, which just made me chuckle a bit.

“Not a big talker, huh?” I asked.

She just responded with a quick nod of her head.

“Hey, it’s fine; I’m not gonna hurt you or anything.”

She still shied away with a whimper.

“I don’t get it, did I do something wrong?”

“No, Fluttershy is just, well, really shy around new ponies-or…whatever you are,” Twilight explained. “What are you, anyways?”

“I guess you can just call me a human.”

“You guess…you’re not sure?”

“N-no I am. I’m a human, it’s just we don’t really have talking horses where I live.”

“What did you call us!?” Rarity yelled at me.

I was even more confused by this, but not really scared; this was still just a dream.

“Uh, horses; y’know? Animals, like dogs and cats and birds and stuff; they don’t talk like you guys do.”

“Oh, they’re animals,” Rarity sighed, calming down. “I’m sorry, dear; it just sounds like a more…derogatory term we have here.”

“Wait, so these horses are similar to us?” Twilight asked.

“Here and there, but I can tell you guys are something totally different. What do you guys call yourselves, anyways?”

“Ponies.”

Ponies…now they’re just trying to make me grab them in a hug.

“But how are these horses different from us?” she asked.

“Well, there are no unicorns or pegasi, for one thing; nor are the all multi-colored.”

“They can’t fly?” Rainbow asked.

“Nope, and there are no unicorns, either.”

“So, no magic either.”

“No, it exists here?”

“Yea, always has.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” I said. “Anything can happen in dreams.”

“I’m sorry, did you say dreams?” Twilight asked.

“Yea, I am just dreaming this.”

Twilight looked at me with a confused look.

“I uh…don’t think that this is just some dream; we’re all real here.”

“Yea, sure,” I said sarcastically.

“Hey, we are real!” Rainbow said. “If I wasn’t could I pick you up and fly you around?”

She did just that, lifting me up off the ground a few feet.

“Yea,” I replied.

She huffed, and dropped me to the ground rather painfully.

“Well, why don’t we continue this discussion inside,” Twilight suggested. “Just follow me Mr…I’m sorry, I never asked you your name.”

“John Denell,” I replied. “But you can just call me Deer if you want.”

“That’s a funny name,” Pinkie said, popping up in front of me.

“Well, I could say the same thing about you!” I said, laughing a bit.

“Oh yea? Well you’re fading in and out!”

“What?”

I looked down at my hand to see I was indeed fading a bit.

“What does that mean?” Twilight asked.

“I’m not sure, I guess it means I’m waking up.”

“You’re leaving!? But I’ve still got so much to ask you!”

“You act like I can control it.”

“Can you at lea-“

I woke up again. It was morning and the sun was coming through the windows. I felt a great disappointment when I realized I was back in my world. That place, no matter how kiddish it was, did make me feel like a kid again. It made me feel young, like there was nothing at all to fear or worry on…

Author's Note

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality.

-Shirley Jackson

Airborne Cavalry

Airborne Cavalry

No one seemed to worry about me when I woke up from those dreams; they said they heard me mumbling and moaning and thought I was having a nightmare. It apparently happened quite a few times, as once or twice I was woken up by them, asking if I was alright. They weren’t annoyed by it, or made fun of it; we were all in that same mentality. It was different, but the same. Everyone had their own views and ways of dealing with them, but it was all the same basic functions; like being on the same page, but reading different sentences.

The world we were in now not only felt new, we saw its inhabitants were dangerous. We went out there, always on edge, just waiting to get pounced on. Silver once compared it to the old western settlers getting jumped by Indians, the difference being that we didn’t plan on staying.

There were a few more attacks, a couple more trips we had to make to find the bad guys; one or two more Americans fell dead. We, or at least I, never got used to it; just numb. The feeling of death around you, seeing it in action, I just tried to ignore it and get back to my work. For one reason or another, time went by quickly at our little fort in the middle of the Wild West. It flew by and before we knew it, November of 1965 was coming up on us.

Over that time more forces began to flow into South Vietnam; both American and Communist. Much of South Vietnam’s backyard in the jungles became the hiding ground for the VC, who established some limited control with the help of North Vietnam’s army. Command must have thought it smart to try and hit them before any more could slip in and consolidate their hold, and I couldn’t rally argue with it, nor can I now; but we underestimated them all the same.

At the beginning of November, we were reassigned to the 7th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Cavalry Division. This division had been around for a while, and now was known as the Air Cav for specializing in air-assaults like us. Like the first time, we weren’t too happy about being yanked from our unit. When we were given their Divisional patch of the yellow-black shield to replace our Screaming Eagle, we instead sewed them on directly under the Eagle, showing where we were from originally. The Cavalry troops also picked with us a bit. They joked that since airborne units were supposed to drop behind enemy lines, and because all the territory outside the base was pretty much grey, they should just scatter us out from our planes across the country. We’d respond on how they should be on horseback chasing Charlie through the jungle with sabers and blaring bugles.

On the 10th of November, we were briefed on the details of our upcoming operation. Our intelligence had been able to nail down an area where a large number of enemy troops were supposed to be. They told us that around 200 or so enemy troops were hiding out on top of Chu Pong Mountain after they had tried unsuccessfully to overrun a camp of U.S. Special Forces troops. On the 14th, we’d be going with the 1st Battalion/7th Cavalry Regiment into La Drang Valley.

November 14th, 1965
10:40 Hours
La Drang Valley, Vietnam

“How’d the Cardinals do this year?” I asked Lee. “I wasn’t keeping up.”

“1st place against the Yankees; that’s the seventh World Series we’ve won,” he replied. “Man, I wish I was back in St. Louis.”

Lee wasn’t lying when he said he was good at baseball, though I never really thought he was lying, just overestimating. He spent a good deal of free time playing it, and had been offered a few scholarships to schools for his skill. Like me, he decided to go into the army instead. Why he chose to come here to Vietnam first I’ll never know.

It was hard to hear him over the whine of the helicopter’s rotors. The flight to the landing zone itself, LZ X-ray, only took about ten minutes. The LZ was located at the base of the mountain, so we’d have to work fast once we got off.

“You guys know we’ll be seeing action today, so no messing up,” I ordered. “No freezes, no jitters, no losing your shit in the middle of a firefight; we’ve gone into fights before, this one’s just a little bigger.”

“We’ll be ok, sir,” Bishop assured me. “We aren’t FNGs anymore; we’ve seen death.”

“Exactly; we are experienced and we are well-trained. That’s why they asked us to come.”

“One mike!” the pilot reported.

One minute until it all started up.

“Eyes open when we’re off; they could be waiting for us. Move together and secure the LZ; establish a defensive perimeter and wait for the rest of the battalion to come down.”

I could see LZ X-Ray out from the side; just a small open patch in the middle of a jungle. Artillery had been tearing up the mountain for hours, and some of the armed helicopters fired rockets blindly at it. They let up as we began to approach.

“30 seconds!”

We were already skimming the tops of the trees when we got there. The Huey slowed and began to descend on the circular opening, ever so slowly toughing the ground. As soon as it settled, we were off, looking around for any signs of movement in the tree line. Save for the commotion of the other troops dis-mounting, everything was calm.

I rallied my squad together and moved towards the tree line, making way for the other helicopters to unload their compliment of troops. We still found nothing once we got there, nor did our cavalry allies find anything in the immediate vicinity of the Landing Zone.

“Got anything?” Captain Nadal of A Company called.

“Clear!” a response came.

“Clear here!”

“Clear over here!”

“Alright, One-Oh-One guys are with me and Alpha Company,” he ordered. “Set up defenses to the in front of the mountain and hold in place until the rest of the troops are on the ground.”

“Hooah, sir,” I replied, following him in that direction.

We could see several men running about in an organized chaos. Most got out of the way and into the jungle with their units, making way for the choppers. A few stayed behind and began setting up a command post.

“How long do you think it’ll take the enemy to respond, sir?” I asked.

“Dunno, there aren’t supposed to be that many of them; they might just turn tail and run, which is why we need to hurry with getting the rest of the troops on the ground.”

Hit-and-run had always been the VC tactic, but would they follow it now?

“Do you think they’ll run, Captain?”

“I wouldn’t,” he said. “Just in case, we’re setting up defenses right here, near this dry creek bed. Dig in and watch for any movement.”

We did just that, digging foxholes deep into the ground. They were dug large and deep enough to encompass one’s entire body to sit in. They holes were spaced out well, not too close together, but close enough so that soldiers could support one-another. We worked fast, knowing the enemy could jump out of the woods at any moment. I was relieved when I finished mine, slouching down inside, protected by the moist earth.

“Freeze!”

I shot back up to see what was happening.

“Whoa, watch it! Hold fire, friendly!” a soldier yelled from the jungle in front of us.

“Where’re you from?” Nadal questioned.

“Bravo Company, we’re moving ahead of you guys.”

“And why are you back here?”

“We found this,” he said, pulling up a young boy in raggedy clothing. “VC; we’re got the jump on him, and I was ordered to take him back.”

“Ok, you go ahead and get back to your unit,” the Captain ordered. “Sergeant Denell, take this one back to the CP.”

“Yes sir,” I replied, nudging the prisoner forward and keeping my M16 aimed at his back. “C’mon, get going!”

The walk didn’t take long, as the command post wasn’t too terribly far away. The prisoner didn’t resist much, as his hands were already bound and it wasn’t rocket science to understand that running would be suicide. Covered in dry mud and a few cuts, he seemed rather demoralized; and I hate to admit that I actually felt a little bad for him.

The large open area was still abuzz with activity. The command post was one of the hotspots, with, Lieutenant Colonel Moore being the most active; giving orders and organizing what he could. He noticed me moving towards his area with the captive and immediately understood what it meant.

“Prisoner?” he asked.

“Yes sir.”

“From where?”

“B Company picked him up.”

“Good, I’ll get a translator over here and we’ll start interrogating; we need any info we can get.”

Moore brought over one of the ARVN liaisons and he began talking to the prisoner. Moore would order the liaison to ask a specific question, and he would ask the prisoner in their native tongue; incomprehensible to me. It sounded rather humors, how most of their sentences ended on high notes rather than deep or low like ours; almost like an opposite.

The prisoner was apparently rather willing to help. The ARVN finished translating something and stared a minute, spoke to him again, and then answered to Moore. Moore, in turn, seemed rather unhappy with it.

“Bullshit!” he exclaimed, waking me up from another daydream. “He’s lying; no way there could be that many.”

“How many of what, sir?”

“Troops; there’s three whole battalions up on that mountain,” he said. “That’s over 1600 enemies just staring down at us!”

“Oh Christ,” I mumbled to myself.

“Get back to A and report the situation immediately!” he ordered.

I didn’t waste time, taking off back down the path I came. 1600 of them against only 200 of us; what the hell had we gotten into? How could intelligence miss so many men? Surely the bombardment had killed a good number off, but what if it hadn’t? One thing was for sure: the enemy was going to attack soon.

“Sergeant Denell, what did the LT have to say?” the Captain asked me.

“S-sir,” I answered, catching my breath. “Interrogation reports a greater mass of enemy present on the mountain the previously thought.”

“How many?”

“He said around three battalions.”

“Three!? Christ, and the helicopters are still landing; they really screwed the fucking pooch on this!”

“What’d we do?”

“Bravo is already advancing ahead, probably into trouble. Dig in deep and get ready to cover their retreat and defend the LZ; we’re right in front of that damned mountain, and that means right in front of those Charlie.”

I had already dug my hole, so there wasn’t too much more to do.

“C Company is on our left flank, and part of Bravo on our right, but they might collapse if they come under too much pressure.”

“Should we go help them, sir?”

“Let’s worry about our sector; Bravo’s probably been warned by now,” he said. “All we can do right now is wait.”

That was what we did, wait to get attacked. It was nerve-racking; the idea of over a thousand and a half enemy troops swarming towards you struck a deep fear. We were experienced, but those were fighting patrols. This was a major battle, and we were the ones being attacked now.

I slid back down into my foxhole, mentally preparing myself. I heard a few distant sounds from the right, from Bravo’s direction. They sounded like small pops, becoming more and more frequent as time drew on. Weapons fire, no doubt; Bravo had found the enemy, or rather vice-versa, and was fighting with them heavily.

Time continued to drag by and weapons fire was heard to the left now, near the center of our line. We were dug in where Bravo and Alpha met in the line, and the VC was attacking Alpha’s center, judging by the distance of the noise. It felt like both sides were taking punishment, and now it was creeping in on me.

“Get back, go!”

To the right, several cavalry troops ran back to their line, all from Bravo.

“2nd platoon’s cut off!” one reported. “Enemy forces headin’ this way!”

“Eye’s open,” someone warned. “They’re out there.”

“I’ve got-”

“Contact!” Silver yelled, firing a few shots from his M14.

Sure enough, fire returned from the trees. It was hard to tell exactly from where, but the jungle here wasn’t quite as thick as some other areas we’d seen. We could easily see a good deal of movement in front of us, along with shouting and yelling in babble I knew as Vietnamese.

The men along our line returned fire; some waiting for targets, others firing wildly into the bush. The auto-riflemen, Corporals Lee and Davis, fired their M60 machine guns into the forest; their job wasn’t too kill individual enemies one at a time, but to put heavy fire on them and stop their movement and actions. Their guns chattered long and heavily as their bullets arced across the front in the general area of the enemy.

I took my own aim, looking down the familiar sights of my gun. I searched through the area in front of me, looking for a target. Instinctively, I watched for movements, muzzle flashes, tracers; anything to give me an idea as to an enemy combatant’s possible location. I spotted a VC moving from tree trunk to tree trunk towards our lines; bad move. I timed it on his third sprint and after a quick burst he tumbled into the dirt.

I didn’t feel anything from that, not a single thing. The idea of killing another human didn’t fill my mind with philosophical debate; there was more important work to be done. Another Charlie was firing his AK from behind a broken tree, near where his buddy was running from. Another burst, another dead man, and again I didn’t care one bit. It became so simple; one less enemy, one step closer to home.

“Taylor,” Bravo’s Sergeant Benjamin called. “I got a target!”

“Where?” the grenadier asked, readying his weapon.

“Two targets; one with an MG, another with an AK. Both hiding in that bush, on that small rise to the right.”

“I can’t see them!”

“Next to the tree that’s broken in half! Hurry up!”

“I see the flashes!” Taylor reported. “Ok, firing!”

The PFC raised his M79 launcher at the target; it was still a ways to go before the grenade launcher attachment was actually made, so he carried an entirely different weapon for it. The 40mm explosive round thumped out and flew into the thick bush, making a small, powerful explosion. Two bodies dropped out of it, one of which was missing an arm.

The enemy was charging down on us, moving from cover to cover and firing heavily as they inched ever closer to our line of defense. Soldiers in the foxholes weren’t entirely immune, and one unlucky shot would prove their vulnerability. One of the cavalrymen, standing up to fire, took one in the throat as an example.

This dangerous game continued for some time. The VC ran from cover to cover to get to us. We kept popping out of our holes to get shots out on them.

The battle didn’t end with one decisive action, but rather slowed down progressively. The enemy’s fire began to slacken off and targets became scarcer until there were none. No order to cease fire was given, it just stopped in its own; and it seemed like everyone knew the enemy could be back on us at any moment.

The fire in our sector calmed down, but I could still hear off in the distance. The far-off chatter of weapons fire was endless, as well as a powerful sounding thumps every now and then. It was most likely artillery, pounding some other attacking VC force. It made me wonder if we could have gotten some to help with our battle.

The area wasn’t exactly church quiet, either. Here and there, the moans and occasional screams of wounded and dying men replaced the deafening roar of battle. I remember one guy who’s finger was nailed by a ricocheting round, forcing him to go back for an amputation. Another poor boy was standing up to fire when a grenade landed in front of his hole and splintered his upper body with shrapnel; he didn’t look a day over 20.

I didn’t say anything; there was nothing to say. Others were giving orders and instructions for one task or another, but mine was just to watch out for any more bad guys that might be coming back. I only broke silence when Bishop called to me to ask if I was ok.

“Yea,” I answered simply, then shut my mouth again.

I was transfixed by the area in front of me. I stared blankly off into space, watching for any signs of activity. It’s amazing how much of my attention it took up, as I didn’t hear Alpha’s Captain calling me.

“Staff Sergeant!”

“Captain Nadal, sir!” I snapped up out of my foxhole.

I shouldn’t have done that, officer or not; I wasn’t catching a sniper’s bullet in the head for a little formality.

“At ease, this is a battlefield; don’t expose yourself for something like this.”

“How’s it looking, sir?”

“Bad, we’ve been able to establish a perimeter, but we’re also surrounded by a far larger enemy,” he explained. “Parts of Alpha and Bravo will move up to try and rescue the lost 2nd platoon, but your squad will stay behind to watch the line. The sun’s stetting, which means we’ll be stuck here through the night.”

I mentally gulped at that; being stuck here, in the enemy’s jungle, at night when the helicopters and air couldn’t help you.

“Are we getting reinforcements, sir?”

“A company from 2nd Battalion, but that’s it until tomorrow,” he said. “The enemy might attack at night, so watch out for any movement; they might try to slip by.”

“Will do, sir.”

As he walked off I could see the sun setting over the horizon. Was it really that late? I was rather surprised how fast time flew in a situation like this. I did a quick investigation of my line from my foxhole, and saw all of my squad was still there. I didn’t see any orders that needed to be given, just to watch out.

After a time of what sounded like several sharp engagements from in front of us, several cavalrymen stumbled back through the shattered jungle to our lines. It was an obvious sign that their attempted relief of the lost platoon up ahead was a failure; those men would have to spend an even lonelier, scarier, night than us.

There were still some random conversations whispered and movements, but it was still rather calm as the light finally faded. The darkness filled my surroundings, and I found myself slowly slouching into my foxhole again. With my helmet falling slightly over my face, I drifted into another sleep.

“D-uh, did I fall asleep!” I shouted, shooting up. “Damn, they’ll sneak through!”

“Who’ll sneak through?”

I looked right to see Pinkie standing there, happy as always.

“Oh, uh, no one,” I answered.

Curiously, when I saw her, all my worries vanished again; though this time, it probably wasn’t the best thing.

“No… ‘one’? You mean no pony?”

This was just too adorable.

“No no,” I said, chuckling and pulling her into a hug. “I’m not a pony, remember?”

“Oh yea, I forgot,” she said. “But, I’m glad you came back to visit. You picked the perfect time, too;I knew you would!”

“What? Why?”

It was at this point I felt that I was on a hard floor, rather than the grass from the first time. Through my blurred, sleepy vision I could notice the area I was in contained several tables, chairs and other furniture. Rubbing and them and blinking, I was greeted by the sight of what looked like a party; the guests of which were all staring awkwardly at me.

“Surprise!” Pinkie yelled right next to my ear.

“You…threw a party for me?”

“Yep; I throw one for every new face in Ponyville! It helps to get everypony acquainted,” she explained. “Wait here; I’ll go find some ponies to talk!”

“Hang on, how’d you know I would be here today?”

She was gone before my question could be answered.

“Don’t worry about Pinkie,” Twilight said, trotting over and helping em up with her magic. “I’m not even sure how she does it.”

“This place is insane, you know that?”

“Well, I did think this town was a little crazy when I first moved here, too,” she admitted. “Trust me, once you get to know everypony, you’ll get used to everything.”

“Good to know,” I responded, stretching out.

“Since we never really got to it last time, do you think you could answer some questions about your world later.”

“If I’m still here later.”

Pinkie returned out of nowhere, interrupting our conversation. She was carrying another pony, a light green unicorn, without much trouble. Instead of actually setting her down, Pinkie threw her at me, hitting my chest and sending me onto my back with surprisingly little pain.

“Gah, Pinkie; what the hell!?”

“John this is Lyra, Lyra-John,” she introduced. “You guys talk a little, I’ll get some more ponies for you to meet.”

“Pinkie wait!”

It was pointless; she was gone, leaving me pinned under a unicorn with a rather surprised look on her face.

“Um…hi,” I said plainly. “So…Lyra, right?”

“Are you really a…human!?” she asked, her eyes and smile growing freakishly big.

This situation had devolved to a level of awkward and oddity I didn’t know was possible; even for dreams.

“Yea.”

“Wow, I just knew you guys were real!”

“Wait, you knew-”

“You mind if I ask some questions about you!?”

“Uh…well…I’m doing that with Twilight later, so I guess you could tag along.”

“Yes!”

Pinkie came back, this time carrying a grey Pegasus this time. As if she hadn’t learned anything from before, she dropped this one on top of us, as well, before disappearing again. It felt like I was being crushed to death, and I was slowly losing my breath.

“Hi!” she said happily, as if nothing was wrong.

Indeed, she looked rather carefree; and her eyes were a bit…off, which was rather distracting.

“Hey,” I replied weakly, trying to gather my breath. “Would you mind getting off?”

“Wha? Oh, sorry!”

She flapped her wings a few times and lifted up off us. Lyra followed, finally allowing me to get back on my feet. I took in a long, deep breath; though it being a dream, I don’t see why it mattered. Pinkie appeared with yet another poor pony only to be stopped by Twilight.

“Pinkie, maybe we should let John go at his own pace.”

“Awww, alright,” she moped. “Ok, I guess it is your party. Hope you enjoy it John!”

And I did, admittedly. The food was good, the guests were nice, and the music was entertaining; everything was comfortable. I actually hadn’t been to a real party like this in a long time. It was nice; it made me feel normal again.

The party started to quiet down after a while, and the guests began to leave. As I promised, at sat down with Twilight to tell her about Earth. Lyra was there, too, just as she said she would be; she seemed just as excited.

“Oh, what first!?” Lyra jumped in her seat.

“I kind of wanted to ask about their govern-”

“Do you guys have music!?”

“Sure do,” I replied.

“Like what?”

“Well, lots of kinds; rock, orchestra, all sorts of music.”

“Can I listen to some?”

“I don’t really know how, but maybe someday,” I told her. “But, let’s get back to Twilight.”

“Thank you,” she said. “What kind of government do you have?”

“Well, my country is a democratic-republic; we elect our leaders and are governed by a set of laws.”

“Interesting, and what is your country called?”

“The United States of America.”

“United; so it’s made up of several different regions?”

“Kinda, but all countries are divided up intro provinces or some kind of area,” I explained.

“And you said you elect your own leaders; no queens or princesses or anything?”

“Not in my country, no.”

“What about other countries.”

“Well, there are a few different kinds of government,” I explained. “England is a constitutional monarchy, so they still have a ruler.”

“Anything else?”

“Yea, there’s the kind I’m fighting against now; communism.”

“Fighting, so you’re in a war?” Lyra asked.

“Yea, but I’d prefer to save that for later.”

“Oh, ok; sorry if-”

“No, its fine,” I assured her. “Where was I, Twilight?”

“About communism?”

“Yea, right,” I said. “So I’m fighting a war against the some people who think the government style of communism is a good idea.”

“Is it bad?”

“Well, there are people who think it’s good; I’m not too fond of it. The stories I’ve heard about it just seem cruel.”

“What kind-”

“Contact!”

There was something shattering that impacted near me, causing my ears to ring a bit. My eyes opened in a flash, and were greeted by the dim light of morning; that and a good number of tracers flying over my head. I checked quickly to see if my rifle was still with me, which it was.

“John! John, you alright?” I heard Bishop yell.

“Yea, I’m up!” I replied.

My vision was still blurry and my muscles were still just warming up, but I could still make out targets and fire. I did this, cutting down a VC that was running right towards my foxhole. He probably thought it was empty; bad choice.

The two sides continued where they had left off yesterday. This time it shifted from between full on attacks and random, small gunshots at each other. All the same, it was still deadly. I was just thankful nothing happened at night that could have screwed the entire team because of my sleeping.

It’s true that time goes by fastest when you’re busy; that is especially true for combat. When you get into the thick of a fight, there are far more important things to worry about; whether or not its lunch time isn’t exactly top priority. That’s how the day went by, as the seconds, minutes, and hours blurred together.

The biggest change from yesterday was thankfully a big plus for us. We finally got air support for our battered little pocket. Hearing them roar in and seeing them flying high over us was a true blessing.

Still, even with this, the enemy attack only seemed to intensify; as if they thought the planes coming in was a signal that we were close to collapse. They would come in real close; so close that we couldn’t direct the aircraft on them. We were able to hold on, but just barely. Part of that was due to the plane’s accuracy in dropping so close to our lines. As the situation got worse, the call of ‘Broken Arrow’ was sent by the Air Force liaison; that meant pretty much every combat aircraft in Vietnam was at our disposal.

It was quite the show, watching all those planes go into attack. Some dropped regular explosives on the enemy, others used their gun; the most effective was the incendiary weapon napalm. Delivered in a canister, it was made of a gel that caught fire when exposed to air. It stuck to whatever it touched, and burned for a pretty long time. At around forty bucks a canister, it was a marvelous weapon to have.

Of course, everything is cool when it’s pointed at the enemy; it’s not so fun the other way around. With all the planes flying around, I can understand that it must have been hard to coordinate and control them. But, it has to be done to prevent disasters.

Two of the planes, F100 Super Sabres, were gliding down on an attack run; and with their heading, it was obvious they were accidentally targeting the middle of the perimeter. I looked back and saw people running to get out of the way, and the liaison was trying to wave them off, but it was just too late.

The first one dropped his ordinance, followed by the second. I prayed to God that no one would get caught in that hell. Unfortunately, some people just just…have their time, I suppose. I saw a few engineers get caught in the full fury of it, being consumed by the fire. I could feel the heat from where I was, and if there was screaming, I didn’t hear it; but the figures themselves were clear.

That’s all I remember from that day, with the little blue-on-blue incident being the most interesting part. It felt like we had suffered enough; not just me and my squad, but all of us. The moment I saw Nadal, I asked when we were being extracted.

“Not ‘till tomorrow,” he answered.

“What!? Sir, we might not be here tomorrow!”

“I know, damn it, I know. It’s just too risky to fly helicopters in right now,” he explained. “There’s nothing we can do but survive until tomorrow.”

It was just stunning to me, taking that in as I watched the sun go down, yet again. We were supposed to have been sitting on top of that mountain at the end of day one. Now we were going to spend a third day under threat of annihilation. Damn it, couldn’t anybody do anything!?

I went back to my foxhole and slumped back in, but I wasn’t falling asleep this time. I had a general idea of when we were leaving, and I was going to do what I could to keep as many men alive until then. That meant keeping watch for an attack.

I ate a few rations and got to watching the dark, shattered jungle. I did whatever I could to keep myself awake, which was actually rather easy; my adrenaline had been running all day, and the random gunshots in the dark kept it up. The artillery fire that kept pounding the mountain itself also helped.

“Deer.”

I jumped a bit at that, but relaxed; turning slowly around in the direction of the footsteps.

“Sergeant Benjamin, you know it’s not smart to get out of your foxhole.”

“Eh, I’ll take the risk, sir,” he said, crouching next to mine. “If I do get shot, that just means it was my time. Besides, I don’t think it is, anyways.”

Time; everyone’s got their own special time.

“Any particular reason you decided to pay me a visit?”

“Just wanted to make sure everyone’s awake,” he explained.

“How’s your fireteam?”

“They’re doing fine; Davis was a little skittish, but I think he’s over it now.”

“Good, good; any word from our lost platoon?”

“You didn’t hear? They rescued it earlier today; the survivors were lifted out.”

“Well, that’s nice; now Charlie can focus on us completely.”

“Don’t worry, man; we’ll get out of this,” Benjamin assured me. “Like I said, everyone has their time, and they’ll know when it comes; trust me, it’s not our time just yet. Hell, we just got here. You think fate’d let us off that easy?”

“Na, wouldn’t be fair,” I chuckled.

“So I’ll see you in the morning, right?”

“Right, Ben; you can bet on it.”

“All right.”

I went back to my watch duty, looking for movement or any sign of the attack that I was sure would come. But, to my relief, the final blow didn’t come that night, nor did it come in the morning. Everything was still and quiet, just as it should be.

The morning crept in slowly, but welcome. The area around me gradually lit up until it was full-on daytime. I was amazed that I still wasn’t tired; I guess the body just gets to a point where it understands it can’t get some things and stops asking for them. I still kept watching, almost like I was oblivious or didn’t care, until a voice shook me up.

“Guys, pack it up.”

I awoke from my trance to see Nadal standing behind us.

“C’mon airborne, you guys are coming, too.”

“We’re done, sir?”

“We’re done,” he assured me. “And a good job at that.”

This was confusing to me. Our mission had been to take the mountain and wipe out the Viet Cong there. Instead we spent three days in a pocket trying to survive. I had a hard time understanding how it was good in any way other than there was still something left.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Our original mission was against a few hundred enemies, not a thousand. Under the circumstances, you did fine,” he assured me. “Our mission was to kill the enemy, which we did; trust me, you did fine. Get your guys together and aboard a helicopter.”

I did that, gathering the men and moving back to the landing zone. Everyone was busy in some way, shape, or form. It was only when I got back that I saw how gruesome the battle had been. The medical station was busy with a fair share of casualties, many of who were lifted out on the choppers first.

The details were tough to see. One guy had his legs blown clean off to where I could see the shattered bone. One man was hit on the side of his head, and a surgeon was desperately performing surgery to save him. The worst was the long line of body bags; though they were covered, the knowledge of what lay underneath was heartbreaking.

I remember one detail clearly just before we boarded the chopper. One of the cavalrymen pulled a small American flag from his pocket and tied it around a shattered tree stump. This indicated that it was the sight of an American fight, and an American victory.

“Just like Iwo Jima,” he said.

Getting on board the chopper with the men, I thought on this. It didn’t seem as glorious as Iwo Jima to me; our marines didn’t leave afterwards. But, thinking on Iwo Jima itself, it wasn’t glorious, it was bloody; it was remembered for how much our men suffered there together for what was right.

That was it; that was how it was similar. We had all suffered here together, as soldiers. We fought together, died together, and won together; just like we’ve always done. We disregarded every difference we had to not just survive on our own, but to help each other survive.

We didn’t see those soldiers as cavalrymen, or guys from another unit; they were friends to us, brothers. We didn’t have any more gripes about being in another unit, or any unit; they would always be American soldiers. Even after we left the 1st Cav, we kept the patch that we got from them, as a way of remembering all the men in that unit that fought and died alongside us.

We would need that mindset; that sense of unity and comradeship. This was just the first battle, and it was going to be a long war. We had a helluva long ways to go.

Author's Note

American soldiers in battle don’t fight for what some president says on T.V., they don’t fight for mom, apple pie, the American flag…they fight for one another.

-LTC Hal Moore, CMDR 1/7 Cav, Ia Drang Valley, Vietnam

When the Rain Comes

I’m not too sure if I mentioned one of the more important factors before. Well, important isn’t the best word I would use; more like torturing. That’s about it, one of the more important torture factors. It was always there, always coming up at the worst times, combat or not. It was the rain, and it fell out of the sky more often than our own bombs, and to greater effect.

Actually, I do think I mentioned it before; allow me to thoroughly ram it in. Sorry if it seems repetitive, but that damned water. At first it was just another annoyance, another irritating attribute in the second war we were waging against the local environment. But it became so much more than that, it was symbolic off all the trouble I was having. Whenever it rained, it felt like it was connected to my misfortune. I had plenty of trouble through the war, and there were plenty of storms that came with it.

Of course, that idea had to start somewhere. I remember where it started, exactly when and where and what. After the fight we had in La Drang, I thought that we’d seen all there was to see, that we were experienced, ready; I came to realize…that you’d never see everything, never. You can get numb to death, get used to the war life, but something’s always waiting around the corner that will get the jump on you, something you wouldn’t expect; if it hits hard enough, it’ll transform any man back into a scared little boy. Sure, the experience helps to…ease the impact, maybe lessen the number of occurrences; but that idea of the perfect, un-killable vet seems for not. All men are different, but we’re all still men.

“Hurry up and get inside, Terry,” Pvt. Silver complained. “I’m getting soaked here.”

It was rather unfortunate that Silver was the last in line, or maybe it was just bad luck; those can be different, you know. Unfortunate feels like you can’t do anything about something bad that happens, like fate; bad luck is just…well…bad luck. Someone just sort of picks the short straw.

“Damn, finally,” he continued as he entered the M113. “I’m gettin’ real sick of this rain, Sergeant.”

“Got a plan to stop it, Silver?” I asked.

“Yea, it’s called ‘get the hell out of it’; from now on, I want something solid over me.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t look like he got thrown into a pool. And they expect us to fight like this?”

“Charlie doesn’t mind.”

“Then he won’t mind if we start raining bombs on their heads,” he snarled. “When the hell are those planes going to go all out on the North, huh? They’re taking forever to get their act together.”

“Brass is being a little picky about which targets to bomb,” Bishop replied. “They don’t want to hit anything too sensitive.”

“It’s a war, why the hell are they being restrictive?”

“Don’t know; let’s just focus on our job right now.”

Our job was the same every day, killing the bad guys; though exactly how we did it changed from day to day. The work environment changed, too; with a pouring rainstorm adding its mix to the usual misery. But, a war rarely stops for anything or anyone; much less a little weather.

It was just another reaction patrol, sent out in response to the VC bombarding our base again. It was something we’d become accustomed to. The base starts to get hit, and we’d go out to find who’s shooting at us and take care of them. We had become masters at it; our kill count began to rack up a good bit when we were out hunting. The only difference was the rain, pouring down endlessly.

“You see anything?” I asked the gunner.

“Nothing yet.”

“Make sure to let us know when you do.”

“I know, man; this isn’t my first patrol.”

“Just making sure,” I said.

I didn’t feel like talking with the guys much at that moment, for some reason. I was just content to day-dream while starring at the floor of the carrier, thinking about what was going on back home, or what I was going to do when we got back to the base. The only noise in the world seemed to be the engine of the carrier and the water drops falling onto the metal hull; everything else seemed distant.

“Heads up, I think we’re nearing the rocket position.”

Usually the base would be bombarded with mortars, but those small rockets could be used, too. Didn’t take much to use, either; just needed to set them up on a little stand and get some batteries with a little juice in them, usually abandoned radios. Point them in the general direction of the target and send them flying; thank God they weren’t accurate.

“Yea, you see that?” the gunner asked the driver.

“No, what?”

“Rocket launching.”

“Sure about that?”

“Positive, over to the left.”

“Ok, boys, dismount and head over to your left,” the driver said.

We did as instructed, exiting the dry vehicle and entering the rain once again, falling just as hard as when we’d left.

“Aw damn it,” Silver sighed. “I was hoping it would’ve lightened up by now.”

“Faster we get this done, the faster we can get out of it,” I said.

“I know, but still. I’d rather be playing cards.”

“When’ve you ever wanted anything else, Gambler?”

“You’d be surprised,” he chuckled.

We got of the trail and into a rather light forest, light compared to what we had been in before. No enemy fire or movement, no traps going off as we moved; maybe that was good, maybe they didn’t know we were here. It would be hard to believe, seeing as how we had an APC taxi us here, but it was possible. We all knew it was possible, so we made as little noise as we could as we moved through, keeping a good spacing, but close enough to support each-other.

“Shit!” Corporal Davis, but still keeping his voice moderately low. “Oh…aw, damn…thing.”

“What is it?” Taylor asked.

“Movement, thought I saw something,” he said, breathing deeply and trying to re-gain control over himself. “Just a damn monkey, son of a-ugh…scared the hell out of me.”

“You ok?”

“Yea.”

His little scare had caused the whole squad to stop, but that was understandable; if it had been a real VC, then we would have been in trouble. Starting to move again, we marched forward a few more steps before we heard the distinct ‘whoosh’ of a rocket igniting. The sound made everyone drop to the jungle floor or take a knee in a combat stance; from where it was coming from, it was probably right in front of us.

I signaled for the squad to tighten up the formation and advance a bit closer, using my hands to keep the noise to a minimum. There was another salvo of rockets, this time very closer, and when the noise died away, we could hear Vietnamese. Another quick gesture and the guys halted, with the two Sergeants following me up some more.

Taking careful steps, I was the first to move aside some bushes and see what we were looking for. There were about ten or twenty Viet Cong in a field, working with the rockets. Some would set them up, others were busy with their own menial tasks; there were only two sentries on watch, both looking in the wrong direction.

It looked real good for us, downright beautiful. They really didn’t know we were here, that was a first for us. It felt a little too good to be true, but I didn’t question it. Now we would be the ones getting the jump on our enemies, we would have the surprise factor.

“What’re you thinking, Deer?” Benjamin asked to my right. “We’re taking them, right?”

“Yea, bring the guys up.”

“Right.”

He turned and waved his hand a bit, indicating the men to come forward.

“Think they’re just tricking us?” Sergeant Bishop asked me.

“Either way, we’re using what we’ve got to our advantage,” I said. “Wilson, get on the horn and ask for some air support; I would rather just blow these guys up without them knowing we’re here.”

“Can’t do, Staff Sergeant; weather’s too bad.”

“Damn it,” I said blankly, looking up at the jungle canopy and the falling water. “Doesn’t matter, we’ve still got the advantage.”

“What’s the plan?” Benjamin asked.

“Take your team and spread out on the left flank; Bishop you go right. Grenadiers, you see that little pile of rockets and ammo? Hit that first, it’ll stun them hopefully.”

“Got it,” Noriko assured me.

“Riflemen, they’ve got one officer; he’s the one in with a cap on, giving the orders.”

“Yea, we’ll take him,” Private Terry said. “Bet I can get him before you, Silver.”

“We’ll see about that,” he responded.

“Wilson, stay with me. Wait until everyone’s in position. And don’t fire until I do.”

The men did so, going off on their own ways and finding ideal firing spots. Wilson and I stayed where we were. He lay down on his stomach and crawled to a little firing spot between the bush and a large rock. I got up against a thick tree trunk to his right, looking over the targets.

“Wilson, you see the nearest sentry?”

“Yes sir, he’s looking near us. Why doesn’t he do something?”

We watched the sentry let out a deep yawn and shake his head; that was why he wasn’t paying attention.

“Ok, let’s both take him. You ready?”

“Yes sir.”

“Ok, on three,” I whispered. “One, two, three.”

My M16’s three-round burst sounded, along with Wilson’s M14 firing; both seemed to find their targets as the guard toppled backwards onto the ground. The rest of the attack followed shortly. The loud bang of the ammo cache’s explosion caused a shockwave that I could feel from where I was; though most of the VC were stunned as planned, some still returned fire. The officer turned around and immediately was hit on the upper right side of his skull and falling into the grass, showing that the kill went to Pvt. Terry.

We kept shooting, knowing we couldn’t let up and give them a chance to re-group. It was an intense amount of fire we were putting out, and I had to admit I was actually a little scared that my group of men could deal out such violence; impressed, proud, but still scared. The Riflemen kept shooting, the MGs kept shooting, the Grenadiers, me and Wilson. It was frantic, and though we were cutting down the enemy with little trouble, I realized that we were scared, just as the targets were; we were scared of what might happen if they started shooting back.

Eventually, the VC disappeared from sight, dead or running like crazy through the jungle. Some of the guys kept shooting, hitting some of the dead corpses on the ground. They must have thought that they were just prone Viet Cong still living.
“Cease fire!” I yelled, and everything stopped.

There was an uneasy quiet, and something didn’t fell quiet right…

“Man down!”

Oh no, oh… shit!

“Staff Sergeant! Sergeant! Silver’s down!”

I jumped up immediately and started running over to their position, disregarding the thoughts of a possible remaining enemy taking a shot at me. My thoughts were off on other subjects, mainly the Private. Where was he hit and how bad was it? How long would it take for a medic to get here? Damn, none of my guys had been hit before, what now?

I stopped as I reached Silver, still lying in the prone position he’d taken for the fight, the rest of his fireteam stood around him. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t making any noise; he just lay there, like in some peaceful sleep. My gun was hanging limp on my side in my hand, and I kneeled down to take a look.

I looked at his head first, being the logical start; that was where I found the problem. It had been one round, the only one necessary; one single lucky bullet hit. An AK round had hit him in the face in-between the eyes, running into his brain. There was no exit wound on the back, but it didn’t matter much. The blood was pouring out of the jagged hole, along with skull bone bits, and what I could only guess was the pinkish meat of his mind. That was too much, and I set him back down.

A medic wasn’t readily available, not that it would have mattered. The rest of the squad gathered around, just staring at the body or at each-other. I think we could all tell that he was gone; like, there was some kind of sense that told you someone’s soul had left their body.

We took care of everything else, giving a radio report and waiting until another group of soldiers had come in. We brought Silver’s body back to the APCs, with Bishop volunteering to carry it back. Me, I have to admit, I was quiet the entire time; I didn’t say anything more than necessary, and just stared up into the sky, up into the dark clouds and the falling rain.

Time slipped by carelessly, and everything that happened with it. It was night by the time we got back home, though the rain caused little in terms of a visual difference. The first thing I did was sit down in my bunk and go to bed; I didn’t know what else to do.

My eyes closed again, and again my mind ran images of the torments of the day. I remembered talking to Silver, his complaining about the rain, all the card games we played to pass the time. The picture of his dead body lying there stuck the most; the bloody face, the empty look in his eyes, and the rain falling down onto us as it happened.

But this time, there was no real fear; it was like I had passed a test or limit. The tenseness, the fear, the yelling and all; they didn’t come. All these things came, and all I felt was acceptance. This was what happened; this was how it would be.

I woke up again in town, this time on a couch in what looked like a library. I got up peacefully, and sat up, not saying anything. I noticed Twilight enter from the kitchen with tea, she looked happy to see me, though I can’t really say it was the same for me. It wasn’t that I was unhappy to see her, I just didn’t feel anything. My mind stayed on what had happened in Vietnam, what had happened to my friend. It was the first time my troubles followed me here.

“It’s good to see you again, John,” she said, taking a seat next to me and floating the drinks down onto a table. “You were asleep for a while on there.”

“Nice to see you, too,” I said, keeping my eyes to the wooden floor. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been ok. What about you?”

“Been better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Ok,” she said. “Well, do you mind if we get to those questions we left off at? I don’t really know when you’ll disappear again.”

“Sure,” I murmured.

“Are you sure you are ok?” she asked again.

“Twilight, don’t.”

“Ok,” she said. “Well, I’ve been curious; what’s that war you’re fighting like?”

I was afraid she’d ask that at some point, but I wasn’t going to be holding back.

“It’s hell, simple as that.”

She seemed a bit confused by the blunt response.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because people are dying, my friends are dying, that’s the main thing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, turning away for a bit and thinking of what to say. “I knew that war has dying in it, I mean I never was part of one… I just, wanted to know if there’s… more to it than that.”

“You guys don’t fight much around here, do you?” I asked.

“Not in a long time.”

“Well, there are plenty of factors that go into a war. You’re so far away from home, you run out of supplies now and again, and whatever terrain you’re fighting in is going to be bad. I’m stuck in a jungle, a thick, infected jungle. Bugs, snakes, and plants that can kill you alone; not to mention all the rain, it never stops.”

“Is constant rain an enemy tactic?”

“We don’t control the weather. Can’t fly, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “I can’t believe two groups would put themselves through all that just to kill each-other.”

“Well we do; do it all the time, in fact,” I said plainly. “Hell, we’ve always done it, probably always will. Maybe it was good that Silver died; he won’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“Silver? Was he a friend of yours?”

“Yea… he was.”

“How did he die?”

“Shot in the head by an unlucky round. Probably didn’t feel anything.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I could stand to see anyone dead, much less a close friend.”

“It becomes a normal sight,” I explained. “Like walking outside and seeing the sky. By the way, is it raining outside?”

“Yes, why?”

“Never mind,” I sighed.

“And your enemies have to fight in the same place? What do they think? What are they like?”

“They’re damned rats is how they fight, running around underground,” I said, my anger starting to come in a bit. “As for what they think, I don’t know, nor do I care. I’m there to kill them any way I can.”

She seemed rather surprised by my response.

“But, they’re humans like you. Doesn’t that make you feel… bad?”

“Hell no. They’re shooting us, we’re shooting back. They try to kill us, we try to kill them; it’s as simple as that.”

”It can’t be that simple!”

“It is, not much else to it. I’ll gun down every damned gook in the country if that’s what it takes to get me and my friends home.”

She gasped at me when I said this, and I had to admit I was a little surprised at how evil I sounded as well; I hadn’t felt like that before Silver died.

“That’s terrible!”

“It is indeed,” I replied plainly. “But, it’s also the way it is.”

“You might need help,” she said. “I’m going to write to the Princesses; maybe they can help you feel better.”

“Twilight, I don’t-”

I woke up again, rather simply this time. I just opened my eyes and laid there while, thinking. I felt… I can’t really explain. Enlightened, angry, understanding, and so much more. Things weren’t going to be the same after this; at least I thought so. It would be different, but the same. It was me that changed; I was cold, just like the rain.

Author's Note

One can find so many pains when the rain is falling.

-John Steinbeck

Apologies to anyone who might have been offended by the use of a you-know-which vulgar term; but it's what was historically accurate.

A Different Kind of Disease

“So; just this sun, or all the suns in the universe?” I asked, trying just to make small talk and avoid the situation.

When I went back to sleep and came back to Equestria, Twilight had a friend waiting to talk to me. Her name was Celestia, and she was apparently also the ruler of the entire land. She also apparently had the power to control the sun, which I would have called bull on if it wasn’t a dream.

The names struck me as rather odd, even with explanation. Celestia, the Sun, at first one would think ‘what are the odds?’ but no, it was planned out that way. Every pony here had a name to correspond with what they did or their personality in some way, just like those marks I was told about. I wouldn’t know how to cope with something like that in the real world, being assigned a role for your whole life. Maybe it would be for the better.

But getting back to where I was at the moment. This princess seemed nice enough; she had this kind of motherly feeling about her. At first I thought I would have to deal with a politician or despot or something, but maybe my mind is being nice to me, giving me this little paradise.

But, it still wasn’t perfect. Sitting there, having to talk to the two of them. It felt like I was some little kid that was in trouble, or more accurately had to talk to some therapist about something pointless. Every time I asked something else, she grabbed the conversation and threw it back onto the track of ‘why are you like this’?

“I have not tested that before,” she replied. “Now, what was your friend’s name again?”

I took a heavy sigh, purposefully loud so that they’d have no problem hearing it.

“Silver. Private Silver. Ok? Private… Joshua… Silver,” I replied, hanging my head.

“He must have been very close to you,” she replied.

I knew she was trying to be nice, but I knew what it would lead to, seeing as how Twilight already told her everything I did.

“Yea, he was a good guy. Most of the time he just played cards with the squad. That was his big thing, too; he must’ve known every card game in existence. He’d only win maybe… a little more than half of the time, but he’d keep doing it until everyone had just had enough. Hell, he still owed me ten bucks when he bought it.”

“That’s an odd thing to think about,” Twilight chimed in.

The two were sitting on either side of me on the couch, so little add-ins were frequent.

“Eh, not… really, I guess,” I replied. “Just something to remember him fondly.”

“And he died just from pure luck?” Celestia asked.

“I guess luck was a factor. I didn’t see it coming, and I don’t think anyone did,” I answered. “I guess a lot of guys meet a fate based on luck in this line of work.”

“It’s all so hard to comprehend.”

“Well, whether you or I understand it or not, it’s there, and when I get I’ll be back in that green hellhole.”

“Perhaps we can help you,” she suggested.

“And how would you be willing to help me?”

“My student Twilight and her friends are all very enthusiastic about friendship, and a few other values,” she explained. “Perhaps they could help you get past this grief.”

Oh great, so this is where things were going.

“No thanks, I’ll be fine,” I replied calmly.

“But why not?” Twilight asked. “I’m sure me and my friends could find something to make you feel better.”

“I’m sure you could; in fact, just being here makes me feel better. But it doesn’t matter, because this is just a recurring dream, one I’ll have to wake up from and go back to reality. It won’t do any real good, understand? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“I can assure you, Sergeant Denell, that we are very much real,” the princess remarked. “Dream or not, we are really here.”

“Yea, sure. I may as well, if it’ll get you guys off my back,” I replied. “At least this little place will be something interesting. Maybe it’ll stop me from going crazy after I see some more friends die.”

“Your condition is incredibly depressing, Sergeant.”

“Welcome to my world, where everything is brutally simple,” I said, looking at the floor. “I kill them, they kill us. Nothin’ to it beyond that, really.”

I still couldn’t get over how perfect they saw things. Everything they had could, for the most part, be solved with turning your enemy into an friend. I wished it was like that in my world, I really do.

“Well, we’ll just have to change that!” Twilight said, hopping up from her seat. “I’m sure there’s tons of stuff we can do to make you feel better, especially with Pinkie, but you probably know that- wait, really?”

It took me a minute before I realized what Twilight was upset about, looking down to see myself fading out again.

“Do you have to wake up now?”

“Guess so.”

“Well, just you wait until next time! It’ll be the best, I promise.”

“I’ll leave it to you, then.”

“Sergeant,” PFC. Noriko said softly. “Sergeant, you were yelling again.”

I tried to keep my eyes shut, not tightly, but naturally, not really having a plan. All the same I figured I did have to get up at some point, regardless of whatever I had hoped keeping my eyes shut would accomplish. Maybe it was to shield myself from embarrassment, but that was impossible, I knew.

Noriko was right about that, though. Not to say I think he made it up, but that it was becoming a festering problem. So many times when I went to bed, my little trip to Equestria was preceded by nightmarish images, and they must have continued while I was there, as some said I tended to go on all night. Something could, very well, be wrong with me.

“Sarge.”

“Yea?”

“You alright?”

“Well, am I hurt or something? Didn’t get blown up by a mortar round, did I?”

“No sir.”

“Well, then I guess I’m ok.”

I pushed the blankets off my narrow bunk bed, and shifted up and to the side. I gave a long stretch to help start up, and looking outside it seemed it was getting close to mid-day. I don’t know how long I slept, but if it did a good job of actually making me feel rested, I’d probably go through an entire day. Noriko was standing on my side, towards the end of the bed.

“What were they about this time?”

I didn’t really bother hiding the more gruesome parts of what I saw when I slept; never thought there was a need to hide it.

“La Drang again. I kept seeing those guys who got caught in the napalm.”

“Yea, I remember that,” he sighed, letting a minute or two of silence pass between them. “You know, some of the guys were thinking you should talk to a doctor. We’ve… already told Doctor Wallace about it, and he said he might be able to help.”

It kind of made me feel like I was being sent to rehab to cure an addiction, only I didn’t want to keep this problem.

“Alright, sounds like a plan,” I said, getting up.

I felt like I towered over the PFC, being about a foot taller than him, though he never let height become a problem in any way.

“So, is everything for today set? Any chores that need to be done?” I asked.

“Not today, really. Bishop’s still trying to drill the new guy; it’s proving tough.”

“Alright,” I sighed. “Where are they, anyways?”

“Today? At the range, I think.”

“We’ll stop by on the way to the Doc. Maybe we can help,” I said, getting up and walking to the barracks door.

“Yea? I doubt that.”

The two of us stepped outside, letting our eyes adjust to the bright sunlight; at least the rain had stopped for now. Most of the usual activity of the base was going on. Troops were exercising or marching, vehicles were moving about, equipment was being worked on, the men who lived there were socializing; all in all it was actually a slow day. There wasn’t anything that you couldn’t see on a daily basis.

Most of it just blew past us; a little game of catch over here and a group of mechanics there wasn’t too much to see. The biggest thing that was happening was some song that was playing over the radio. I think it was The Doors, looking back. I don’t remember, really; there were more important things on my mind.

“Welp, there they are,” I observed as we arrived at the range.

The firing range for small arms was almost precisely halfway between our barracks and the doctor’s place. Bishop and the new replacement were in the last box on the row; with the Sergeant trying to show the Private how to properly shoot an M14. As expected, they weren’t making much progress.

“Come on. Control your breathing, man,” Bishop said.

The Private failed to do this, firing off three shots quickly and missing the entire board.

“Private Ricky, how’s it coming?”

He actually didn’t notice me at first, and shot off two more bullets of his own accord before Bishop actually held him on the shoulder and pointed to me.

“Oh, Staff Sergeant! My bad, sir, I was kinda… in the zone, you could say.”

From the plain white of the target board, it was clear that the ‘zone’ he was talking about was in missing consistently.

“Right, maybe you should keep practicing.”

“What? I thought I hit it at least twice.”

“You grazed it twice.”

“Yea, that’s a hit, right Sarge?”

“You’re the rifleman, you have to hit it dead on,” Bishop explained, pointing to the M14. “That’s why we gave you a rifle.”

“It’s not like I asked to be the rifleman, I’m not that great of a shot.”

“Well, I didn’t ask to lose the guy that came before you, but shit happens,” Bishop replied angrily.

I remember Bishop never really got so mad before that, at least not at his own men. Indeed, pretty much the entire squad’s moral was sinking after our loss and from the continual battle. I hoped it would harden up before we all collapsed.

As for Silver’s replacement, Ricky was from some little place in Iowa, where he didn’t really know what he wanted to do. He was actually a draftee, his number being the lucky one picked, and he wasn’t too fond of it. Nor were we very fond of him or his attitude, he was definitely one of those guys who were not cut out for soldiering.

And I don’t think it was so much that he was drafted, at least not entirely. A lot of the drafted guys were just reserve or rear area, and how he got shoved into what was considered a front line squad, with his skill set, I have no damn clue. And on the other side of the fence, I heard about a squad in one of our other companies that lost an entire fireteam; the whole team was replaced by draftees, and they operated just fine. Once again, it was a matter of crappy luck for us.

“So, where are you guys headed anyways?” Bishop asked.

“The doctor’s; figured it was time we did something about my sleeping issue,” I explained. “We were just stopping by to see how things were going.”

The answer seemed to surprise Bishop, but relieve him as well.

“Alright, I hope you do find some kind of solution,” he said. “Good luck, Deer; I’ll just get back to trying to fix the disaster that’s been handed to us.”

“You’ve got the patience of a priest,” Noriko said before we started off again.

We got to the doc’s building in no time after that, at least it felt like it. Most of the building was empty, and I could see Doc Wallace waiting on me; maybe the guys had known I’d say yes to their proposal. Either way, Noriko wished me good luck and went off to do whatever he had to do, and I sat down with Wallace across from his desk.

“So, how are we going to do this?” I asked. “Look at ink blots to determine whether or not I need a lobotomy?”

I couldn’t even tell if I was being cynical and sarcastic at that moment, like I really thought that was an option for a second.

“No, not at all anything like that,” he replied. “Your team mates already gave me a good deal of info, all I need is for you to confirm it.”

“How so, Doc?”

“Well, just tell me what you see when you dream.”

I actually had to think a good deal before answering him. Of course I would tell him about the nightmares, but what about those ponies? Would he think I’m crazy? I had actually heard of a few others suffering and screaming in the night, so was it a normal part that they were hiding, too?

“Well, at first it’s usually just nightmares,” I answered.

“Of what?” he asked.

Why did everyone need specifics?

“Well, all bad stuff. It…it varies now and then. Always of the things I’ve seen, though. The men I’ve seen die, all the fighting, the… suffering. Pain, the uncertainty. The jungle, the rain, the things in it.”

“And that’s all you see?”

“Well, partially,” I replied. “Usually, after I see that, I go to this place. It’s this… kinda… kidish, cartoonish place. It’s odd because I’m the only human that they have. The whole place is full of vibrant ponies that talk and do stuff a lot like us.”

“Really? Talking horses, you say?”

“Ponies,” I corrected him.

I actually don’t know why I corrected him; maybe I thought it mattered.

“Well what do you see when you’re there?” he asked.

“Well, I interact with them, doing just... fun things. And well, when I’m there, I’m not afraid anymore. I don’t feel bad, or scarred, or anything; I feel happy and warm and… safe. Most of the time, anyways.”

“This is interesting, but it does confirm what I thought,” he said, writing something down. “Sergeant Denell, I believe you are sick.”

“With a disease? Something from the jungle that can get into your head?”

“No, no, something mental. This is something you catch from traumatic experiences, especially in your case of how much you’ve lost.”

He got up from his seat and grabbed a small, plastic bottle from a shelf behind him.

“Sergeant, I have some medicine that may be able to help you,” he told me. “I’ll give you a prescription for these pills. Take only one a day, and your sleep should be free of all dreams.”

“All dreams?”

“Yes, you should have no more trouble with your visions.”

He handed me the bottle and some papers to sign.

“Alright, thanks doctor.”

“Take care, Staff Sergeant.”

I walked back out again, and stopped to look at the tiny bottle in my hand. It was hard to believe that something as little as that could solve my problems, but I trusted him. I actually didn’t want to start taking them right away. My concern was that it took away all my dreams, but did that include the ones with Twilight and her friends? Even if it stopped my nightmares, I wasn’t sure I could make a sacrifice like that. I had to see them again.

Author's Note

Well Mom,

There really is a war going on over here. We made contact in daylight yesterday for the first time since I've been here. You know how they say war is not like the movies show it. Well, they're wrong. It's exactly like the movies.

Vietnam veteran Tim Driscoll. K Co., 3rd Battalion, 3rd Regiment, 3rd Marine Division.

Letter to home dated March 4th, 1968.

Again, sorry I can't right as much as I'd like; life and the like.

You don't know how much I hope and pray that this is accurate.