Jimmy Jane

chapter 2 ~ screams and spiders

Jimmy Jane

Chapter 2 ~ Screams and spiders

Timmy's P.O.V (Vietnam Jungle)

I sit on the moist log, the dew from the nightfall soaks through my cargo pants, leaving me with a wet patch that the boys are probably going to tease me about later. It is one of the things that keep us amused. Teasing each other. It might sound harsh, and my mother would definitely scold me for it but, hey when every second of your life you are waiting for some Vietcong to spring out of the bushes and bury a hundred bullets in your chest, everyone hangs around for a good laugh.

If it wasn’t twelve a clock at night right now, one of the boys, Probably John, would be telling us one of his great adventuring stories or about how he dated Miss Universe. We all know he couldn’t pick up a girl like Miss Universe; the guy has got an appetite like a pig and the dirtiest mind. He tried to get one of the Vietnamese girls back at Saigon but, that only lasted the whole five seconds he walked over to her, she took a look at him and ran away.

I wouldn’t want to date a girl like Miss Universe though, they are too perfect, too gorgeous and happy headed. I want a girl like Jane. I HAVE a girl like Jane. She is mine, I am hers, and nothing, and not even a damned war can take that away from me. It broke my heart, shattered it to pieces when I told Jane about my tour. To see her standing there, sobs racking her body, her small curvy body and her blond hair sticking to her face, all I wanted to do was walk right up to the military and say, 'take someone else you assholes I am needed here!' But I can’t, and I didn’t it is my place here.

She hasn’t answered any of my letters, even though I have sent her one at the end of every week. Every week without fail, I must tell her I am still here, still breathing with a beating heart. Sometimes I wonder if something has happened, if one of the dickheads back home has done something to her, if they have I will rip every cell off their body one bit by bit.

I draw in a deep breath, sweat pouring down my forehead. Even though it is night time here somewhere in this hell hole jungle the heat never changes, there is always the same constant sweaty, stinky heat that clings to all of your body and makes you feel like your breathing through water.

The heat is not the worst things here though, it’s the bugs. Giant mosquitoes buzz around your head constantly and at night time, they triple in population, massive thin hard shelled bodies bumping into each other trying to get a suck of your blood. They gave us nets to wear over our helmets during night watch, but I wish the nets would cover your whole body, even our long pants, long shirt and all off our protective gear never seem to keep the nasty buggers away. I have been bitten all over, a constant itch, even when you’re trying to aim a gun, or look for traps. I have even found some in places I would rather not name.

All in all under the mass canopy of lush over hanging leaves, of twirling and spiralling vines and of plants I can’t even name, are normal people, like me, who just want to finish their 12 month tour and get the hell out of here, some of us though, won’t make it.

I check my watch, 12.30, time for the reports. I turn around in a circle, checking the nearby jungle just outside of the clearing, nothing no movement, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there, we are never safe.

I stretch out the antennae and dial into our station; I hold the radio just in front of my mouth:

“Report, Vietcong are still heading towards the North, taking to the East side of the jungle, groups in this area, be ready to report for call in duty. Total death count for past two days, twenty five Americans and Thirty Australians, for other countries please report to your sector.” A generals voice booms over the sound wave, even though it is just a recording, I will speak with him soon enough.

“Group name and leader” the voice asks, I check the forest again.

“Group 335 PC Timmy Chatsworth. “

“Report casualties”

“Zero sir”

“Please hold sir” the voice asks.

Again, I look back over at the guys, sleeping curled up in their sleeping sacks, they may be sleeping but it isn’t peaceful.

“Okay, there is mail at headquarters waiting for John Buckleswroth…………….” I zone out, please say my name please say my………….

“And Timmy Chatsworth”

I suck in a deep breath.

“From what address is that last letter come from” I ask, in my heart I hope but my brain tells me maybe not so.

“56 North Ridge Ave. …”

“Thank you” I say, not needing to hear the end of the address, I know it as good as my own, it is Jane’s.

“Well, report for duty in two days future.” The man’s voice is harsh and in the background I hear other call In's.

I sit down on the log and retie the radio to my protective vest.

A ear piercing scream rises from the air. I snap my gun into my hands and I make sure there are a few rounds left in the chamber.

I turn around and kneel on my knee, just like they taught us at the training initiation. I swivel my guns from side to side. I would say my heart is pounding, but it doesn’t hardly ever is there guerrilla activity during the nights, well there is, but the Vietcong have to sleep too right, and half the times someone wakes up in the night is because a monkey has taken a shit on his head, or they thought they heard movement.

I laugh as John springs from his bag, running around the huddled group, stepping on body parts, trying to flick something off his shoulder. He grunts and bites back his screams; he looks petrified, something always happens to John, always the monkeys shat on his head for your information.

I flick on the safety and lower my gun, shaking my head as I walk over to a struggling John, the others are quickly getting up, springing to their feet waiting for action.

“Chill out, John just had another monkey do its business” I laugh, the others all laugh, but john is still clearly freaking out.

I pull out my knife and approach him from behind. I see are large lump on his shoulder, about the size of my fist, and it moves. What the f………………

I bring my knife down on the bump and pulling up as I am about to hit Johns shoulder, he falls to the ground shaking his head. The boys laugh; we are a group of seven.

I look at the organism dyeing on the end of my knife. I speared a giant spider strait through the back, its giant furry legs still moving in slight jerky movements; its black hairy body though, stay completely still.

“What is it?” Ben yells standing up to check out my killings.

“Well it is a dreadful, blood eating, bone sucking………………….. Spider” I say, they all laugh, except for John. He stands up, drops my knife on the ground with the spider still on it and jumps on it, smashing every limb in the spiders body, when he is done with his tantrum, he wipes the knife on a nearby fern and hands it back to me.

“Oh tuff Johnny can’t handle a spider” Ben coos crawling back into his sleeping bag. I smile and walk back to my post, sitting down on the log again and continuing lookout.

“Did you see it, it was a fucking monster!” John exaggerates, shaking off his embarrassment. It’s not something you see every day, a guy screaming at a spider, a soldier screaming at a spider. But then again the spiders here are 10 times the size they are at home. And that, my friends was only a baby. And only the beginning of this life threatening journey, we must travel and never look back, if we do we might not like what lies behind.

Short and sweet!

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