SKID-RIC, THE LOST MAN OF MARS
(a newly discovered chapter in the Barsoomian Chronicles)
Sent by Sabrok Kans, the Barsoomian hermit;
Transcribed by
Thomas R. Skidmore
It seems strange to me that this so-called “diary” should come to me now when all about me is ready to go into the pits. What I mean is that all known civilization is due to collapse while the rest of all life here on Barsoom goes merrily on and on, with nary a care as if nothing will happen. That’s the thing with us, I suppose.
But…getting back to the matter of this diary:
I find the contents of this to be utterly…intriguing, to say the least. To say the most, I find it almost laughable…if the “author” perceived himself to be a madman--or worse. But, who am I to say? It’s not my place to judge a man based on what he chooses to write, or believe, or whatever he may be....
And so, out of that which you Jasoomians call “the good neighbour policy”, I present to you, as a gift, the diary of the Lost Man of Barsoom, named Skid-Ric.
ONE
I Introduce Myself and my Situation
Well, the best I can tell you is that, frankly, I don’t know how I got myself into this new life here on Barsoom, but you can thank this little “hilarious” fiasco called the Vietnam War. I suppose you’re asking why.
Well, you see, it started on the first day of what came to be known as the Tet Offensive. It was January 31, 1968. An event due to live, as our FDR said, in infamy, albeit ignominously.
Oh, before I get too far along, I ought to introduce myself. My name’s Richard Thomas Skidmore, PFC, 2nd Recon Division, United States Army. I stand 6 feet, have sandy blond hair, and fiery Celtic blue eyes.
Getting back now, we were out on patrol around the perimeter of the U.S. Embassy in downtown Saigon, in South Vietnam. It was hot as hell, temperature-wise, and we sweated out buckets.
Anyway, we got word earlier that a bunch of Charlie-trained civilians were due to swarm the Embassy. We were ready for them—or so we thought…
And so my platoon, consisting of myself, my cousin, my friend since childhood, and a bunch of others took our positions at various points around the Embassy, not knowing what really to expect. Inside, I began sensing the overall pointlessness of our purposes in ‘Nam. I can just imagine what the reaction was like at home.
Putting those thoughts, and all others aside, we tensely stood at our positions, looking around in every which direction. After a few minutes, we grew really antsy and nervous. Then my cousin moved from his position to where I stood, the look of fear clearly etched on his face.
“Hey, Rich, you know what’ll happen?” he asked in a raspy whisper.
I looked at him in a wary manner.
“I don’t know, but next time don’t move from your position, or it’ll be the last move you’ll ever make. Clear?”
He nodded somberly, then promptly returned to his given vantage point.
Hour after hour we stayed at our points, sweating out each of those moments. Our jaws were clenched, and our teeth were grinding. Somehow or other,we knew the unexpected was due to happen…and it did!!
