We stumbled through the woods, smoke filling our lungs in ashy piles and soot covering our hands like gloves.
Kyle falls behind me, landing on a collapsed tree. I run over and dump some water on his face, reviving him some. He takes a few gulps and wipes the water from the outer ring of his lips. I order Tanner to take a look at a cut on his cheek but Tanner says it's nothing.
We trek for a few miles (most of them I spent carrying Kyle) into the woods. Simultaneously, we all decided to make camp for the night. That night, Eddie and I sat up, leaning against a tree trunk that was a few feet wide.
"You know, I hate it here," says Eddie.
"Who doesn't?" I laugh.
"Nah, I mean, I really hate it. Not just the fact that my best friends get killed everyday, but the enviroment too, it's hot, it's muggy. This place is just horrible. Who would want to live in this place?" He asks, putting a cigar to his lips.
"Why do you think they call 'em sweat shops?" I laugh again, taking a drink of water.
We both share a laugh.
"I have to admit something," I say, taking another drink and taking a drag of a cigar, "After my friend Benny died, about a week before you came in here, I kind of separated myself from the other guys. I just feared that if I were to get close to someone again, they would just get killed like him. You were the guy who brought me back to reality."
"Well thank you. You about the only white dude to treat me right," He cackles, "I have to admit something too. I still haven't killed a guy. Everytime I jus' try to hit 'em in the leg, wound 'em a bit. You know? I just don't want to kill nobody."
"I know how you feel. But I enlisted, and I'm not sure why," I admit, bowing my head in shame.
"Wait a minute, you, you enlisted? Ha!" He howls like a wolf, "Wait, wait, wait, don't tell me, you saw we were going to war, and you, like most of you other patriots, started waving your American flags and chanting "USA! USA! USA!" didn't you?"
"Maybe," I mutter.
We retire to our sleeping bags after a few more hours of talking.
We arise in the morning, packing up our bags and grabbing our rifles. Blisters have grown on my hands beneath my leather gloves, which have been chafing me since back at base. I would remove them but I fear it would only hurt worse.
Eventually, we reach a clearing, a convoy of American tanks and Jeeps move down the dirt road. I run at a dead sprint, waving my rifle around wildly, yelling out for help.
"What happened here?" asks a soldier, hopping out of the driver seat of a Jeep.
"We... we were attacked a few miles away at basecamp. The whole place got overrun. We are the only survivors we've seen since then. We need water," I beg.
The soldier, SSGT. Foley, hands out canteens of water to us and tells us to hop in a Jeep in the back.
After hours of resting in the back of the Jeep, we cross a large bridge leading over a river. Explosives that must've been planted by the VC explode right when our Jeep is crossing. The bridge collapses, sending wood planks and vehicle parts into the river.
My head falls beneath the water. I hold my breath as I struggle for a knife that is floating to the surface. I reach it with the tips of my fingers, and slice through the seatbelt. Gasping for air, I reach the surface, salty water spilling into my mouth.
The current carries me down the river, the convoy dissapearing in the distance. I climb onto the shore and look back into the water to see Eddie and Kyle floating down the river. I reach out and grab them one at a time.
We catch our breath and I check the ammo on my M16.
"David, Kyle, Eddie, anyone there? Where are you guys?" asks Foley over the radio.
"Sir, we've just been pushed down a ways by the current, moving to your current position now," I say, lifting my body ,which has gained fifty pounds in water weight, up from the ground.
A flare fires up into the sky.
"Did you see that? Hurry up and get over here, we're taking heavy fire from VC forces that are dug in the cliffs."
"Yes sir," I turn to the other two, "Let's move."
YOU ARE READING
Orders: A Vietnam Story
Short StoryFollow David White through his battles in Vietnam, both emotionally and physically, he pushes himself to his limits, proving that not all men, are born soldiers. They are built as soldiers.
