The Serpent Queen

King Cobra | Part One

In an American army base in the 1968, a sergeant called out to his troops other the sound of helicopter blades whirring in the air.

"Mail call! Santa's here, fellas!"

Soldiers ran into a tent and exited in a huddle, clutching their unopened letters.

A young handsome man opened his letter. This man's name just so happened to be John Kreese. He took out a photo of his girlfriend from back in America. One of his comrades, called Ponytail, snatched the photo from his hands.

"Ohhh, Johnny, Johnny. Man, you weren't kidding. She's a beaut!"

"Alright, alright. Give it back."

"Twig! Come look at this."

Another young comrade ran over, nicknamed Twig. He was very tall, skinny, and quite gangly. He was also carrying a care package from home, "Do ya have to call me that?"

"Maybe get some muscle on those sad little tree branches and we'll talk." Ponytail said about his arms.

"He's got a point, Twig." Kreese said.

"Wow, who's that?" Twig asked about the girl in John's picture.

"Johnny's girl back home. Smell that perfume, huh?" Both he and Twig sniffed it. "That's the smell of America." Ponytail looked to Kreese. "Tell her to send one for me, would ya?"

"In your dreams, pal." He took the photo back as their sergeant approached them.

"Kreese!"

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Command tent. Some Captain in there asking for you."

Young Kreese put the picture in his back pocket and went over to the command tent. One of the guards standing outside motioned him to go in. When he got near the tent flap, he heard loud grunting around the side.

Instead of going inside, Kreese walked around the command tent, to find his Captain decimating a bamboo constructed training dummy with quick violent strikes.

Standing with his back straight with his hands behind his back, Kreese said, "Captain."

"At ease." Captain Turner stopped and wiped his face with a towel. "So you're Kreese? Your C.O. tells me you're a go-getter. Volunteering to walk point, joining ambush teams. You got a deathwish, kid?"

"Not wishing for it, just not afraid of it. Some people can't tell the difference, sir." The young man replied.

"You know how many men we got in this hellhole?

"In 'Nam? Probably half a million."

The Captain nodded, "More Americans here than in Denver. And you know what? Most of 'em don't make a bit of difference. But you. You can make a difference."

"That's why I'm here, sir. To defend my country. Be a hero."

Captain Turner took a contemplative drag of his cigar and exhaled, chuckling, "Good. I'm forming a team. We'll operate out of CCN. Direct action missions into North Vietnam. This is the real war. We'll go sterile into triple canopy jungle. No IDs, no insignias. Team will be you, me, and a few specialists."

"I know a couple guys, sir." Kreese replied, thinking of his friends.

"I'll train you myself. Guerrilla tactics, demolitions, hand-to-hand combat."

"What kind of hand-to-hand are we talking about, sir?"

"If you want to defeat your enemy, you have to learn to fight like them. I learned Tang Soo Do during the Korean war from Master Kim Sun-Yung. If you can handle it."