Chapter 2 "I know whatcha runnin' from"

Written by: Liam C.

"Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game." -Babe Ruth.

And oh boy, did I need that quote right now. Not only is applebloom in the hands of those fuckin' shits... But AJ is as well. I didn't see big mac or granny so there is some hope that there not captured but I'll be fuckin' damned if I'm going to sit on my godamn ass whilst some greasy dicks are holding a fucking child- err filly hostage.

I slowly and quietly closed the blinds and began my way up the old staircase to warn granny and to get on the high ground which I'll need if I'm going 17 on 1 or 2 if I can wake old lady Jenkins the fuck up. I made it to her bedroom and knocked on her door loud and hard to try and wake her up.

"What in tarnation? Applejack if yer tryin' to prank me again then Ah swear I'll tear yer-!"

"Woah, Woah, whoa calm the fuck down old lady Jenkins. I'm wakin' you up because there's an absolute shit ton of guys out there who I think are deadset on burnin' the place. They also have AJ and applebloom." I said

"WHAT!? AND YA DIDN'T FUCKIN' THINK TA SAVE 'EM!? WHAT KINDA YELLO-" Her hissy fit was interrupted when I cut her off. "Jesus fucking christ, Okay miss old lady Jenkins I'll get my ass down there right now, and fight 17 on 1 by my fuckin' self like I'm godamn Rambo," I yelled back

"Yer a buckin' soldier fer Faust sakes, ah'm as ya say "Old lady Jenkins" soldier boy," Granny Smith said "Yes, I was a soldier but that doesn't mean I can go 17 on 1" I responded

"Then what are yer fixin' that Ah do soldier boy?" Granny asked

"And that's where you come in with the crossbow. You start shooting the guys down there with the bow, providing me covering fire for me that will allow me to start firing my rifle. And if we can get big macintosh to help, he'll charge one of the guys armed with a crossbow using a wood ax. It's simple guerrilla warfare tactics. And once the mercs figure out what's going on... You'll start throwing white phosphorus grenades at their vehicles and bunched up groups, once there rounded up... AJ should grab a spear, and then we'll finish those assholes off once and for all." I said

Granny nodded and then, proceeded to tell me where big mac was and spoilers he was in the barn... probably.

"Here's the phosphorus. Now before you unpin these grenades, make sure you know where the winds blowing and how you do that is there are two ways. Firstly you could make a little flag and put it in the air to see where the wind is blowing. Secondly, you could wet your hoof and put it in the air. Once you've located where the wind is blowing, make sure to not throw them if the wind is blowing towards the house because if it is... It will most likely burn down the house. This shit is incredibly dangerous because you cannot put it out and it WILL burn long enough to cause third and fourth-degree burns.
trust me I've seen marines fuck around with these and end up having burns so bad that you could see their bones." I explained.

she then nodded understandingly as I handed her three phosphorus grenades.

"All I could do now was hope that I wouldn't end up either burning down the house or burning down the house AND getting me and the apple family killed by some greedy sack of shit merc's that smell like the inside of a skunks asshole," I said mentally as I walked back down the stairs and walked out the back door which funny enough, wasn't even guarded by mercs. These mercs were truly pieces of fuckin' art, they didn't even think to guard the back fucking door like they didn't expect anyone or anypony (oh god, I said it every-fucking-pony I fuckin' said it) to just walk out the fuckin' back door.

I stealthfully avoided most of the guards, I did shank a couple of these cocksuckers, making it now 11 > 2. I entered the old rustic barn to see, Big mac pointing a wood ax at me.

"Yer the one who did this, ya fuck-" big mac nearly plunged a fucking ax into my chest until I dodged and tripped him. "Big mac granny told me you were here so I came to get you so we can kill these fucks" I said

"Ya attacked mah sis' yesterday, how do ah know yer not just lyin'?!" Big mac said, "because I would have just killed you already, besides I just killed 6 of these mercs already, besides I am more than capable of killing a kid." I said

"No, no yer not the type to kill' fillies and colts. Ya look like ya have some kind of code against that," big mac said. "Exactly which means I wouldn't put a filly and her family at risk of death. So you just counteracted your logic" I said

"Eeyup," was all big mac said, "So what's the plan soldier boy?" I told big macintosh the plan of how we would take down these assholes. After I was finished talking to him I heard the leader Barking orders.

"FER ALL THE ASSHOLES THAT ARE IN THE FUCKIN' HOUSE, I'D FUCKING RECOMMENDED YOU GETCH YER ASSES OUT HERE OR THE FUCKING KID GETS IT!! YOU HAVE 7 MINUTES TO COME OUT OR Y'ALL FUCKED!!" the leader yelled using a fucking seashell. This asshole reminded me of my drill Seargent.

"Shit, mac get your ax and save AJ, me and granny are going to distract these assholes okay?" I said, "Eeyup," Big Mac said.

I climbed up on top of the barn roof and trained my sights on a stallion, he was far away from where AJ and bloom were kept so I could draw attention that way. After I pulled the trigger, I felt a feeling I haven't felt since the battle of hue city...

It was fear... It was an adrenaline rush... But most importantly, the feeling of taking life. I felt what snipers felt because when your a green beret grunt or any grunt, it's not personal you don't see their face... You don't see their last moments... You're, disconnected from it. You don't spend your time preparing to take the life, and you're disconnected from it because you were only defending yourself. You didn't deliberately plan their death, you only made a split-second unplanned decision in self-defense and not a fully planned deliberate attempt to kill someone.

I eventually snapped back in reality when the bandit leader began to lose his shit. I aimed again and shot another goon who wasn't in their line of sight which put them into a panic.

"Who the fuck IS DOING THIS!! WHO EVER'S DOING THAT, YOU'RE NOT A GODAMN HERO!! YOU'RE JUST ANOTHER STUPID KILLER!! A FUCKIN' SWEATY GRUNT LIKE US!!" the merc leader yelled out to me again. His words stuck to me, they stuck to me like how duct tape sticks to a wall.

"I'm not like you, I don't kill children because a rich guy told me to," I said quietly in deep denial. I was in denial of it, not able to handle my past crimes, my crimes... against, other human beings. Fortunately, the distraction worked and big mac was able to get bloom and AJ out of there. I saw AJ pick up an old rusty pitchfork that looked dangerously sharp so at least she was armed.

I switched to a sawed-off m79 "bloop tube" and fired a 40mm at one of these assholes chariots, causing four guys to get injured and one had his legs blown off. I then heard AJ and big mac charge two other guys, while granny put a fuckin' arrow through this other guy's skull. At this moment there were two guys left, the leader and another merc before they could finish them I yelled for them to stop attacking. I did this because I wanted to track down this blueblood guy and put a clip into the fucker.

"You two assholes down there, put your fuckin' arms in the air or so fucking help me, I'LL TEAR YOUR DADDY'S COCKS OFF AND BEAT THE BOTH OF YOU TO DEATH WITH THEM!!!" I yelled I was trained to capture POW's and the thing about the cong are that there not fueled off of money like these shits, there fueled off of patriotism, vengeance, and wanting to keep their families safe so there significantly more likely to try and injury and kill as many Americans as possible, although its shitty to seen your friends die by some slanty eyed gook, at least it was done by a guy who has mostly honorable reasons and not done because the fucking monopoly guy said so.

I jumped off the three-story roof and nearly broke my ankles, not the brightest fucking idea looking back now but I wanted to interrogate these assholes.

"Oh Celestia, CHRIS!! Oh Faust, are you alright!?" AJ practically fuckin' screamed at me.

"Bwahaha, look at you guys. A bunch of fuckin' ingrates and hicks, you probably have the ape here so you fucks can fuck him. But I gotta admit I can certainly see myself in hi-" the merc leader's cute little monologue was interrupted when I hit him in the face with the butt of my rifle.

"FUCK YOU!! I WOULDN'T KILL A KID OR FILLY MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKER!!" I yelled at him and hit him again causing several teeth to come out of his skull. Boy did I fuckin' give this guy a makeover that rarity would be jealous of, not that I knew who the fuck she was at the time. I'm just speaking retrospectively.

"Oh really, like this is any fucking better. You know what? You hicks or should I say sheep, are only alive because your Shepherd this ape who is a real asshole by the way had to herd your stubborn hick asses into using cheap fuckin' tactics to take us out." The leader said

"It's called guerrilla warfare asshole, and charlie victor was a master at it," I responded.

I got pissed off at this fucker's little smug ass smirk I just wanted to rip his cock off and stick it down his fucking throat. "Who the fuck's charlie victor? Never mind fuck it. Guerrilla warfare is a fitting name for the dirty tricks you apes pull. Ape. Anyways monkey, you and I think alike. Unfortunately, your potential will be wasted when blueblood cuts your cock and balls off and then beats you to death with them." The leader smugly replied

"Too bad, because you're going to answer my questions whether you like it or not. Horse." I said with a vicious and borderline sadistic venom in my voice that made everyone but the leader shiver, with said leader laughing with a hearty laughed.

"C-Chris, A-ah think ya need to stop," AJ said

"No shit, wow nice name... Chrissy, Bwahahaha- 𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗞!" I smashed the butt of my rifle into his head as hard as I possibly could. Causing him to lose consciousness almost immediately, whether he was dead was... Another story.

"MotherFUCKER!!!" I yelled in anger, "AJ, big mac, can you please tie these guys up and put them in the barn. So I can fucking interrogate them later." I asked and thankfully, they did as I asked.

A couple of hours after the shitshow I just sat on the porch, stupidly I didn't even think to see how AJ was doing. Considering this was her first-ever kill. Most people aren't the same after there different, because they now have a vivid and dreary knowledge of how easy it is for them or someone else to kill something it makes them... Paranoid... Delusional... And overprotective because they don't want their family to die but they're also worried that, they might also end up killing their family in a hunting accident or they might drive too fast. It's horrible really because your blissfully unaware state is now permanently broken, and it's replaced with the knowledge of how easy it is to kill someone or to end up killing the ones they love.

I was never the same after my first kill. I was seven when I got my piece of shit of a stepdad's revolver and ended up shooting another kid. She was only three... And I shot her, I had no idea what the revolver could do. There was a reason why it was locked away but I ignored it anyway. They called it an accidental homicide, I call it how it is... A cold-blooded killing.

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧.

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙚...

𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧!... 𝙜𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙩!... 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙚!... 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙪𝙮!!... 𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙝! 𝙜𝙪𝙮!... 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧!... 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙧!... 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙚 𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧...

fuck, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤 fuck, 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧... 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠- FUCKING STOP!! i yelled out into the air. I eventually calmed down and walked inside the house, what I saw made my heart turn black and crack.

Applejack, the once-proud hardworking mare was balling her eyes out into a pillow. And I just stood there like a jackass not moving until finally, she broke the silence.

"C-Chris, w-why d-di-id a-ah have t-to kill a pony? Applejack said staring at me with two beady, sad little eyes that were now a deeper blue with pupils the size of pinpricks. I nearly broke down, in my whole life including Vietnam did I ever see a look that broken, but I luckily was able to pull myself together and I sat down next to her and soothingly ran my fingers through her mane.

"I don't know, applejack i-its just sometimes people or ponies have to kill to defend the ones they love most because a-as they say the ones you love most are the ones who are willing to fight and die for you," I said remembering all the people I've killed and seen die, watching my friends die with there lower torso blew off or their body covered in hideous 4th-degree burns. I began to quietly sob, with applejack burying her head into my tigerstripe jacket.

"A-Ah'm worried about, applebloom. Chris Ah'm w-worried-d that she'll t-tu-urn out bad from the things she saw today." Applejack said, granted it was muffled but I was still able to translate it, it might seem like a sign of weakness to cry but I can't see anyone or anypony being able to bottle up all their feelings for the rest of their life.
So to those people who think that, fuck you cocksucker how about you stab some random guy to death and tell me if you could bottle that up for another 84 years.

"AJ, I don't think applebloom will turn out bad. Unlike me, she has a good family with a relatively peaceful life and good friends I think." I said, "who would you know Chris?" AJ asked.

"AJ, I grew up in South Bronx with a piece of a shit uncle who was my adoptive father. The guy would find a reason to beat the fuck out of me, I lived in an area that had gangers, ruthless mobsters who would act all "nice" until you fuck up and then they'll put a bullet in your head, black gangs who let's say weren't all too nice to white people now granted they didn't bother me due to me being on good terms with a capo, well that was until the guy got clipped in 58' at that point I was fucked because A bunch of black guys was not too happy with me being around but they slightly underestimated me." I said

"How much is slight AJ asked "Fatally, now I have nothing against black people, but I'd usually use the word nigger as many times I could when I was in a fight not out of prejudice mind you, but to make them go into a sloppy rage so I could put an end to them. My black friends knew I wasn't racist considering that I used the word only to piss off overzealous and racist black gangers into losing it, and because I fuckin' hated sundown towns" I said

"Do ah even wanna know what a sundown town is?" AJ said, "glad you asked, a sundown town is a southern town filled with racist crackers and white trash who kill any as they put it "filthy fuckin' niggers" that come into town at sundown, also never get pulled over by a sheriff if you're a black guy in a sundown town because they'll put your ass in the ground without a second thought." I said to a, now horrified applejack.

"How in tarnation do cops get away with that in them sundown towns of they're's?" Applejack asked, "county cops back then and even now act with complete impunity, the judges would rather believe a coon ass sheriff than a couple of honest black folks with no criminal records and who wouldn't have it in them to do most of the shit they'd be accused of." I said,

"Ah've had enough Chris okay," AJ said

"There's this good song I know that I could play on that old record player," I said as I got up to get the record with the song "let the good times roll" on it.

After a couple of minutes of fucking around I managed to get the record playing.

"Hey, AJ," I said "Yeah?" Applejack replied, wondering what I was yapping about and that was until she heard Sam Butera's voice singing.

"Hey, hey, everypony let's have some fun.
You only live but once, But when you're dead you're done... So let the good times roll" I sang, she began laughing at my poor attempts to sing.

"Let the good times roll, Don't care whether you're young or old... Let the good fuckin' times roll." I sang along to the lyrics "Don't sit there mumbling and talking shit If you wanna have fun... You gotta spend some cash" I sang

"So let the good times roll, Let the good time roll, Don't care whether you're young or old... Let the good times roll!" I and AJ began singing. I then began to dance and so did she. So here I was, Ass in gear, dancing with a talking pony. With Sammy singing in the background, boy Vietnam must've skull fucked me because this shouldn't be possible, but it was and I was enjoying it.

"Hey hey, mister landlord locks up all the doors, When the cops come...
Tell 'em the joints been, closed.
So let the good times roll, Let the good times roll, Don't care whether you're young or old... Because... LET THE GOOD TIMES A ROLL!! We both sang while dancing. We both sat back down and listened to the rest of the song, afterwards I turned the record player off.

"AJ... You really, need to learn how to dance" I said, "oh like ya dance any better than me," AJ said

"Just try to learn," I said

"Alright, Ah'm fixin' go to bed. Goodnight Chris" AJ said and I just nodded and began making my way downstairs. I lit up the lantern and began dressing into my boxer shorts and tank top. As I was doing so I wondered "did I love AJ?" I was honestly wondering because she's a pony and I'm a human being, "no, no that's... impossible, fucking impossible I'm not in love with a horse" I thought to myself but I knew otherwise. I blew out the lantern after I put all my gear back, besides the handgun and Rambo knife I still kept nearby in case something happened.

I laid down on my bed and rested my head on my pillow and snuggled under the blanket. Just before I closed my eyes I swear I saw The silhouette on the moon flash a little and almost disappear, normally I'd be wide awake right now because of it. But It seemed like something was putting me to sleep, like... I've been drugged or... Hit with some kinda magic?

Now I wish I hadn't gone to sleep at all...

-------------August, Friday 13th, 1967---------------
Nightime in north Vietnam, was so much more bearable when you were in a tent - not that you lost your overwhelming sense of anxiety, paranoia, or fear. but it was better than spending it out on those night watches.

The only problem was that one couldn't see anything that was going down on the outside of the tent - they had to put every single inch of their fuckin' trust into those shitheads who were out on night watch to allow themselves to sleep.

Chris lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling of his bunk. How was his grandma faring? He hadn't received a letter from her in a little over a week. Was she okay? Had anything good or bad happened back home since she had sent the letter? I was always worried about her because the doctors say she's developing dementia, she was already in stage five and he was stuck balls deep in Chieu hoi shit water not even able to comfort her.

As he was about to close his eyes, a loud bang interrupted him. What followed next was sheer pandemonium, marines, green berets, and even a couple of UDT guys were up off their asses trying to get into their gear and fetch their guns.

"GODAMN AMBUSH!!!" cried a voice from outside, followed by a loud chorus of gunfire.

"EVERYONE OUT OF MOTHERFUCKING BED!!!" bellowed an older man, no younger than forty-five, as gunshots and explosions rang through the stale air. "GRAB YOUR GODAMN WEAPONS!! NO MAN FUCKING LEFT BEHIND!! Hey - I said to MOVE it, you two!! If you don't move your asses the last fuckin' thing you'll ever get to do in yer shitty life is sitting there like a GODAMNED PUTZ!!"

The barracks that belonged to his company were in complete chaos. Everywhere fellow soldiers were scrambling out of bed, reaching for their helmets and weapons, shouting at one another, trying to throw on their clothes as quickly as possible - it was fuckin' chaos.

Chris reached for his gun and instinctively aimed it in the direction of the mauled canvas, still in his bedclothes. A young Vietnamese man emerged through the hole brandishing a semi-automatic. Before he knew what he was doing, Chris opened fire on him.

Chris, who was indeed still in his bed when he had brutally gunned down the man, leaped to his feet and fumbled with the damn buttons on his shitty rucksack. If he was going to fight, he was gonna do it with some fuckin' pants on.

The air was filled with shrieking as the far corner of the tent erupted into flames.

"We've got fuckin' contact from the east godamnit!!" shrieked the voice of one of the platoon's scouts from an unknown location outside the tent. "We're being flanked over here!"

"Eagle!! Baby Huey!! Mountain man!! White!! Dragon!! Go and intercept!!" bellowed highway as he snatched up his rifle. He then pelted out the far side of the tent to join the fight.

"You heard the major!!" cried hardass, a short man with fiery ginger hair. He pushed his way out through the hole in the tent, followed by snowflake, a reedy hippie kid in his very late teens. As Toby yanked on his trousers, Charles, his best friend of all time, appeared at his side.

Charles was a British UDT guy (underwater demolish team, better known as the original navy seals) was a guy with a porno mustache, a distinct face with somewhat sunken in boney cheeks, muscular build w/ lots of body hair, facial camouflage (green and brown face paint), a fucking red bandana tied around his head, aviator glasses to quote "protect his eyes", black combat boots, tigerstripe camouflage BDU's, he also wore a specially modified leather pistol holster that held an m1911 handgun, two grenades, and a canteen, he also had an m21 sniper rifle system (which is an m14 with a scope and suppressor), a rucksack, a delta traveler vest, and a few more grenades attached to his vest.

Charles was a childhood friend, with his father being my godfather but unfortunately, my abusive fuckin' molester of an uncle managed to fuck over my dad's will and bribed the judge who put him in charge of me.

Charles's dad was a rich English Nobel who was the exact fucking opposite of all the stereotypes with him being a patriotic ww1 vet who was successful and would try and help the poor and homeless unlike every other rich person in the fucking universe. He was a kind old man who was a crack shot like Charles, he was in perfect health of course he was getting older but he wouldn't push himself too hard. He was a multi-millionaire, he's incredibly successful but has problems with his liver and kidneys but he's getting healthier. I met Charles when I was 6 he was the skinny intelligent kid while I was the smart but much bulkier and shy kid.

Snowflake was a 25th infantry division LRRP marine he wore all the classic grunt gear, well except him using a camouflaged m16a1 with taped magazines, tigerstripe BDU's, the classic m1 piss pot with a hand-painted jungle pattern to fit his BDU's, a modified chest rack (not boobs you pervert, it's a commie bandilor), jungle boots, leather gloves, Boonie hat with matching camo, rucksack like everyone else, a sawed-off m79 " bloop tube " (like I carry), grenades, and even a fuckin' peace button. The guy was a peace fanatic he truly didn't belong on the casualties list but he made it on there anyways. The guy was like I said a hippie with a long-ass beard that rivals bin laden's beard and long-ass hair like Jesus. Snowflake was a wild child who hated violence and surprisingly has very well thought out reasons to why unlike every other fucking hippie he will defend himself when the time comes and when the shit gets too thick he's a helluva crack shot.

"Hurry up, Chris! We can't let them bloody yanks take all the good ones," his friend joked, but even Chris could sense the sheer terror and pure anxiety radiating off of him.

"Shut up, ya putz," Chris retorted, and the two charged out.

Not the sharpest idea when considering that the hostile forest outside their tent was pitch black and chalk full of heavily armed hostiles.

"HIT THE DAMN DECK!!" bellowed the voice of the dragon as the faint noise of a grenade pin being removed sounded off to his right. Chris did so without disinclination as the unseen troops in the thick woods opened fire. A strong grunt came off to his left, followed by the sound of a corpse crashing onto the damp forest floor.

The dragon was our grenadier, UDT pointsmen. he was a former Imperial Japanese officer during ww2, the guy was a fucking psycho! He had a fuckin' katana, slanty eyes, jaundice-colored skin, long jet black hair, marine BDU's with a flannel VC neck wrap, china lake grenade launcher, Nambu pistol, VC chest rack, an AK-47, german stick grenades, and a Viet cong straw hat. Guy had it in the blood when it came to being a lunatic I heard that he fought in Korea as well and has been here in nam' since 57' and if that's the case... Then holy shit my company is or was fucking badass.

"GRENADE'S ARE OUT!!" Dragon shrieked.

BANG!

There were now shouts coming from the woods as the opposing sides fired upon the other simultaneously - the air was humming with intense gunfire and reeked of death and hatred.

"Chris, you gonna help??" cried Charles voice from the ground a couple of yards away.

Chris grit his teeth. "COVERING FIRE!!" he hollered, blindly firing into the darkness in front of him.

"Good call, Chris!" cried Charles, and Chris could hear his fading footsteps as he engaged further.

"How many are there??" Charles cried out in the direction dragon had gone.

"Seriously!?" said his voice from a considerable distance. "You expect me to see in this shit?? GRENADE!!"

Chris and Charles waited until the bomb had gone off, then followed the sounds of their friend's voice at a dead sprint. He was pressed up against a tree, and footsteps could be heard in the darkness not far beyond. Chris aimed his weapon towards the source and let off a quarter of around. There was a short holler in a Vietnamese accent, then silence.

"There can't be many of them!! The gunshots are too few and far between!!" Charles called over the gunfire.

"What are y'all doing here!?" Dragon cried, finally noticing the presence of the other two. "This is MY tree!! Are you TRYING to give them a chance to kill three birds with one stone!!??"

Chris flushed sheepishly. Trying to rectify the problem, he turned to find his tree.

Fortunately for Chris, he was an intelligent man who could make quick decisions under pressure, but unfortunately the path he chose to take earned him an entire burst of 7.62 caliber AK rounds into his right leg. He nearly fell to the ground in pain. He then roared in pain in rage, he propped himself up against a rock and opened up on a couple of gooks who were unfortunate to come across him in his delusionally angered state.

"Chris!! Are you good!?" hollered the voice of Charles in the distance.

"No!!" Chris yelled and rested his back up against the tree.

It was very fortunate for the American platoon that the stupid Chieu hoi's ambush had been poorly designed. While they had the upper hand with their knowledge of the terrain, the Americans simply had too many numbers for the ambush to accomplish, unfortunately, though five people died, three marines, one UDT, and one green beret.

Quick footsteps approached Chris's location, and Charle's pale face loomed above him in the dim light that washed out from their mangled tent.

"Hey, dude, take it easy," Charles said smoothly, clutching Chris's shoulder. "You need to get looked at - where did you get hit?"

"L-Leg," Chris hissed.

"Okay - I'm gonna have to take your word for it, because I can see next to nothing out here," his friend replied. Squatting down, Charles managed to hoist Chris up, who yelped as a horrible electric pain shot up his thigh. Noticing this, Charles added, "Simmer down, I'll get you to the medic."

Despite his friend's calm tone, the expression on his face was anything but. It was pale as death, and his eyes kept flickering nervously towards Chris's legs. Chris didn't blame him; after all, it isn't every day when your best friend gets shot near you.

As Charles struggled to carry his heavy friend, Chris noticed a body that lay in the warm light from the tent - and it was wearing a familiar army-green jacket, similar to his own.

"Charles- who is that?" he grunted, but as they drew closer, he could see for himself.

It was snowflake or mark hannin. He lay there motionless, staring up the black upper canopies of the forest with a frozen expression. The flickering light from the tent was reflected in his glassy, lifeless eyes...

"NO!!" bellowed Chris, who instantly began to weakly struggle in Charle's arms. "He's nineteen! NINETEEN DAMNIT!!! Snowflake! SNOWFLAKE!!!"

Charles gulped. "Quiet, you've lost a lot of blood - it's soaking my arm... Chris, stop, there's nothing you can do for him..."

Suddenly, everything faded to the darkness around him. The pain in his injured leg left him, along with his wounds. He looked around wildly - where was he? He was standing in almost complete darkness; the only thing that broke it was the stream of light that streamed down on him from an unknown source.

"C-Charles!?!?" he called out in a shaky voice. Nothing. He then began to hear explosions, screaming, gunfire, and he began to smell chemicals, napalm, burning corpses, agent orange, it all hit him like a fucking piledriver

"Man down! Man DOWN!" A voice in my head rang, "The Seargent's been shot to shit! WE NEED A MEDIVAC!" another voice shouted from within my mind. My brain started to form crude silhouettes of VC and NVA. I then began to hear intense sounds of artillery, heavy machine gunfire, Huey helicopter sounds, and screams. Plenty, and plenty of screaming either out of pain, fear, despair, or anger there was screaming. At this point, I felt like I was back in Vietnam because of the sheer intensity of the sounds, blurs, and memories. Now I had radio chatter blaring in my ears,

As if mad, he springs from the bed and grabs his M1911, immediately taking cover, readying it, and going into a crouching position covering the door. His eyes are wild, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He trembles visibly. In his mind, he hears gunfire and screams. The dream has burst through from his sleep to his waking mind. A tear rolls down his cheek and he doesn't even notice. The world around him blurs, his senses overloaded and stressed his ears... God, his ears are filled with a slew of sounds only driving him even madder...

"Waldo, we have received fire from the east. It looks like these sons of bitches got it surrounded." A more southern radio voice said.

Chris took cover behind what he thought was a tree, which turned out to be his bed, the sounds from the house settling were gunshots, shelves, posters, and clothes were blurred into a group of about 2000 strong. The cricket's noises from outside were morphed and blurred into what he thought were explosions and gunships.

"Roger that. Go around to the north and pick up windy, hell razor, and white" a more northeastern voice stated on the radio.

I could hear large amounts of gunfire over the radio, like a force that's 2000 strong.

Granted what he thought to be radio chatter turned out to be the creaks of the bed and his ragged breathing that just so happened to be distorted by his quote "shell shock" and turned into radio chatter he heard over 6 years ago during the battle of "khe".

I then heard who I'm going to assume be pigpen yell "we've been hit" on the radio.

I began looking around trying desperately to locate the sounds or in his mind... The enemy.

"Okay it doesn't get the chance to start doing [illegible] we've received fire and it wasn't light automatic weapons...it was grenade launchers, and uh, it could have been 37mm, but I think we were too close to it. Anyways it was exploding type, uh, shells and, uh, his ship is just shot to shit and he's riddled from it. Uh, no, cloud has some uh, holes right up next to his ball's." I think waldo said

"How big are the holes?" Pigpen asked

"...got a hole in his door, uh, that's as big as, he said he could put his fist through it," Waldo answered

He began hearing 50. Caliber machine gunfire... Lots of it, so much that, the chatter he was hearing was being drowned out as his insanity was driving him deeper, and deeper into the deep end.

"Jesus Christ," pigpen said over the radio. The rest was mostly illegible but I was able to transcribe some of it.

"Slick pilots, this is Waldo," Waldo said

"Go," a third guy who I assume to be "slick" pilots said

"I'm chasing pigpen back at this time, he's shot to shit and, uh...we received not light the automatic fire, it was heavy automa-" that was when I snapped back into reality

When I snapped back into reality I just broke down and sat down on my cot and cried, I was going... Insane.

Applejack had woken up and heard them yell and sobbing coming from the basement, she entered them basement only to see Chris just breaking down.

"Chris? What in tarnation is goin' on down? Here." Applejack said

"I-its t-the memories... I can't even sleep" Chris choked out, "what memories?" Applejack asked

"Would you e-eve-en underst-stand? N-no you'd o-only hate me." Chris said, he stopped crying at this point but was still very broken.

"Chris, ah'd never hate ya. Ya saved mah families lives... Mah lively hood... And ya comforted me when Ah was down in them, dark depths I'd never hate ya." Applejack said, "Now tell me what's wrong, Chris." Applejack asked

"V-vietn-nam..." Chris responded hollowly as he was a very, very broken man, "veat- what now?" Applejack said. "The Vietnam war, that's what's wrong. Viet-fucking-nam." Chris replied

"Yeah, Ah reckon' ah heard applebloom talkin' about it. And ya already told me and mah lil' sis' about it... But, ah'm fixin' to know... what does that gotta do with them memories of yer's?" Applejack asked curiously but, inside her, she knew where this was going.

"In World War One, they called it shell shock. The second time around, they called it battle fatigue. After 'Nam, it was post-traumatic stress disorder. I'm plenty seasoned enough to never even think this. but I know of young men back home, sitting in front of war films and war games, who idolize this condition as some kind of mark of a true warrior. But from where I sit, if indeed I do have this stare, this pathetically naive thinking is a crock of shit. Because only some pathetically naive soul who had never felt this nothing- ness would say something so fucking dumb. You are no longer human, with all those depths and highs and nuances of emotion that define you as a person. There is no feeling anymore because to feel any emotion would also be to beckon the overwhelming blackness from you. My mind has now locked all this down. And without any control of this self-defense mechanism, my subconscious has operated. I do not feel any more. But when I close my eyes. I see the dead cong looking into this blackness. And I see the NVA soldier's face staring into it, singing gently as he slips into another world. And I see Charlie's face. shaking gently as he tries to stay awake in this one." Chris monologued and applejack just sat there listening intensely.

"My grandma said she was proud of me. Of course, I would rather hear this than the contrary, but I cannot say that I am proud of myself, so I find that I cannot 'talk about it' My grandmother described me as a real hero . . . just like your grandfather'. But I do not know what to do with this accolade for her grandson, other than let her have a moment, or it helps her back here. Some wounds never show on my body that is deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds." I said to applejack who was on the verge of crying. I guess she cared... Or maybe it was a trick?...

"Ah...Ah'm so sorry fer yer pain Chris, ah didn't know about the things ya experienced in that darn war ya fought in. But ah'm fixin' ta know, ah really wanna know the truth, Chris ah really do so, please tell me."

Chris sighed as he was about to tell a long, long story.

"The year was 1968..."

Author's Note

Btw, I write these chapters with a notepad tool