Only Fools Rush In [to be edited]

Failed

When Brennan returned to the campsite, he noticed the campsite completely packed up and Sergeant Chevoski huddled deep in the grass. Brennan identified himself and settled beside the sergeant. “VCs, sir?”

“Four o’clock, son. We counted twenty-two. Looks like they’re settling down in those caves below. You and Wallace flank them far right. Quill and I will stay center. Nelson and Bobb will take left. I want to take them before we get to base camp.”

“Sir,” Brennan said, looking out from behind his binoculars. “We can’t take on these guys. We’ve got to worry about eagle flights; not to mention I counted the armory and we’ve lost three thumb rifles, two Garands, and AK-50.”

Chevoski cursed under his breath. “How the hell did we lose an AK-50?”

“FNG, sir. We got a lot of privates and PFCs in this squad. And I know we lost three since I’ve been missing. Not to mention Monaghan. God, wish he was here.” Brennan regretted, squeezing his fist in anger.

“Well, forget about all that, we’ll work with what we got. Where’s your watch?”

Brennan’s heart jumped and he looked down at his wrist, as if he had suddenly forgotten what his watch looked like. “I gave it to the girl, sir. It has a compass and I didn’t want her to get lost. You unloaded Monaghan when you found his body, right?”

“Yeah, we did. Jackson’s carrying his load.”

“Then I’ll use his watch.” Brennan crawled back and loaded on his gear and helmet. He usually had a keen sense when smoke will be in the air. They were too close to the enemy without being seen. The VCs were stealth fighters with knowledge in hiding and ambushing that was always a step ahead of the American troops. Brennan motioned Wallace to join him at his post. As the two crept through the jungle, there was a thud and a grunt.

Brennan turned around, just to find Wallace sprawled out with a dark trail of blood leaking from the neck area. Knowing his comrade’s death was a distraction, he spun around just in time to whack a descending Vietnamese in the head. He then heard the rattling of gunshots and shouting. The jungle was awake and the navy blue sky was lit up with red and yellow sparks. Throwing himself to the ground at the sound of an explosion, Brennan crawled along the path, securing his weapons.

Seeing three VCs clambering up the hill where his men were, Brennan rested the gun against his shoulder, aiming it at the third Vietnamese in the back. Releasing the bullet from the chamber, the VC fell dead, making his companions in front of him turn around in surprise. When Brennan saw that opening, he raced along the pathway towards his men and then settled down on one knee for the next shot. Squinting one eye and focusing on the leading VC, he fired, striking him perfectly in the chest.

The remaining VC was struck by several bullets by Chevoski. While Brennan reloaded, Jackson came up beside him, shouting in panic, “It’s the boonies, man! We ain’t going to see out of this alive. They’ve got to have birds or something. We just lost Chevoski and Danders!”

Snatching the young private by the shirt collar, Brennan made a run for it along the visual path to where he saw Sergeant Quill tearing apart a group of advancing VCs. “Cover me, Jackson!” Brennan shouted as he made a daring dash into the open to join Quill. Jackson held his own until he a hole was blown through him by a sniper rifle. Cursing under his breath, Brennan covered for Quill. “They’ve got a damn sniper, sir.”

“Where’s Bobb? He was flanking left, wasn’t he?” Quill asked as he moved to a further position.

Brennan followed as he replied, “Unknown, sir. Haven’t seen him since we took post.”

“Jammed rifle, Brennan. Hand me yours!” Quill tossed his malfunctioning rifle to Brennan, and reached for the new weapon, only to be torn apart by a CAR-15. The bullets nicked Brennan, sending him to the ground. But Brennan didn’t stay down for long; he snatched his rifle and shot up to his feet. Shouting, he fired rapidly in the direction the shooter had come from while moving to the far end of the hill they had camped on. Looking down, he saw a steep slope that ventured into a valley. Seeing no other choice, he jumped.

For a few seconds, it was peaceful. The air suspended him for a moment before his spine jerked against the landing, sending him rolling to the bottom. When his body found the leveled ground, Brennan jumped up, aiming his rifle above him, and, seeing no one after him, took off into a fast run down the valley and towards any direction that would show him a hiding place. He found several crevices in the rocks, but none looked secure. Upon finding a cave that looked easy to go in and out of, a hand grabbed his face and threw him hard to ground.

Brennan struggled against the grabbling hands, dodging the blind blows in his direction. When he was in the position to catch a glimpse of the attacker’s face, his breath escaped him. “Wallace?”

“I thought the same, too!” Wallace shouted, spreading his hand over Brennan’s face and pushing down with all his strength. “I saw her, Brennan! She was with them! She turned us in!” Wallace moved his hands around Brennan’s throat and squeezed until it occurred to him he couldn’t kill his own man. Releasing Brennan, he backed away, pointing a finger at him. “You get out of here, Brennan. All right, I’ve got your back. You just get out of here.”

Heaving with great difficulty and coughing, Brennan rolled to his knees and pushed himself up by his hands. Turning to Wallace, he said hoarsely, “They saw the watch, man. It was my fault, it wasn’t hers. I gave her my watch for direction.”

“Well, that was a smart move,” Wallace said sarcastically. “You killed your entire squad over her. You shouldn’t consider yourself a corporal. Or even an American citizen!” In another rage, Wallace threw himself at Brennan. Brennan caught him and kicked him off. “You better find a way to forgive yourself, or I’ll go up there myself and kill her.”

“She ain’t going to follow us, Wallace. She won’t know where to look—,”

“Unless you told her where we are! Have you ever received a letter from the army? Saying your brother, father, or cousin died in action? Can you imagine Jackson’s mom receiving one? Chevoski’s brother? And Quill’s family? And you get off free! Because of that god forsaken broad up there!” Wallace grabbed his rifle and began making his way up the slope.

Brennan dashed after him. “You’re right, Wallace, you’re right! I did do this. I’ll finish it, all right?” He looked up at the private in desperation, thinking only how he should’ve never ever been promoted. There was nothing that could redeem the situation.

“You mean, you’ll waste her?”

The soldier nodded his head. “You get out of here and back to the base to report the news. That’s an order, Private.” Brennan pulled the private down and took the rifle. Staring him straight in the eyes, Brennan repeated in a stronger voice, “That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Wallace said in a quiet voice as he headed off down the valley towards the base.

Brennan watched him until he could no longer be seen. And once it was him and the silence and the strong smell of gun smoke, he made his way up the slope. Only to realize upon reaching up with his left hand that three fingers were missing. Falling to the ground in surprise, he became conscious of the wounds he had received when Quill was hit. In frantic motions, he pressed his right against his left ear, finding it had been blown off. Pretending he hadn’t been wounded, he put his mind on the slope and slowly and painfully made his way up to the area where his fellow men had died…on his account.