The Dam Universe

The Jungle

Spears of water fell from the sky. The leaves in the jungle rustled as the quiet pacing of the forest set a tone of unbelievable intensity. The calls from the frogs and birds broke the silence every now and again. A swift breeze sweltered our bodies with pouring rain.

The sudden sound of feet approaching rapidly gave us ample time to open fire. The burst of light coming from the Ak's and M-16's. The sound rattling throughout the jungle. People screaming, blood bursting everywhere, mud up to our knees, flames 10 feet tall standing in the rain. This was hell.

1967. I was part of a U.S Marine Corps stationed on the beaches of Nha Trang. It was absolutely beautiful. The water so blue it was like it was from a cartoon. The palm trees gave me some semblance of my home back in Los Angeles. The green mountain vista surrounded a bay of this clear blue water.

I was a medic. I saw bodies on top of bodies being sent home without the rest of the body. The bay's water was tainted red. There was one kid, his name was William Davis, we all called him Big Willy. He came into my tent on June 22,1967, it was pouring rain. Somebody put his body on a surgical bed. The sight I saw, he had on leg with no foot, and the other leg along with most of his pelvis was gone. He died the next morning. There was nothing we could do.

July 30 of the same year, me and some of the soldiers in my squad were sent to obtain bodies and wounded from a battle the night before. It was raining once again. The jungle came around us like a green fog. The flashes of lightning, struck fear into the hearts of all the men. Every little rustle, every little call from a bird was an enemy. The jungle was our enemy.

The jungle came at us in the quiet spurt. The Viet Cong jumped out from every corner. The spray from the M-16's and the AK's shook the wilderness around us. The gravity of reality sunk down as I ran for cover. Blood and adrenaline coursing through my veins. Sweat and rain pouring down my face. The smell of burning wood, the piercing sound of gunfire. Then the silence that followed.

Rain hit the leaves drip by drip. Nothing, but the sound of the wind and rain. The clinging of something metal broke the silence as soldiers around screamed, "GRENADE!!!".

An explosion, decimated a section of forest. Shrapnel came out in every direction. A chip of wood went straight into my eye. At first I couldn't feel anything, nothing but a flesh wound or mud in my eye, but no. The piece of shrapnel was nearly touching my brain. Many weren't so lucky to just lose an eye. Many lost their lives.

I went home with one less eye thinking, was really worth the trouble, was worth the struggle we had to face, was it worth all the trauma, was it worth my eye. I came to the conclusion on the ship ride back to L.A that no, it was not.