It’s 1961 and I, Jeff Sanderson, have got myself caught up in the Vietnam War in Northern Vietnam. Right now, I’m covered in dirt, surrounded by bodies; each one filled with holes and flowing with blood. My shaking hands are reaching for the butt of my gun and out of instinct I leap over the bunker and look for a target. The trigger is loose on my finger and a shot rings off, followed by another and another as if they were never ending, when suddenly “click,” the clip ran out. The clip falls to the ground and I quickly reach for another. I fumble around in my pack, but find no clip. I throw my gun to the ground and look around looking for a weapon. I spot an AK-74U lying under a bloody bundle of bodies. I crawl towards it, watching trees shattering and chipping under gunfire around me. I reach for the AK-74U just as an explosion rocks the forest. I watch as trees are blown away, and spread across the dirt in front of me. I grab the AK and look towards the never-ending battlefield of bodies. My comrades and VC’s are scattered in every direction. All I could see was a huge river of blood passing right in front of me. I retrace my footsteps and try to find my platoon. Half way down the river of blood I find them or what’s left of them. I grab what I can, including their tags. I look towards the EP and head-off, fully equipped and ready for anything.
I drop to one knee and listen to the sound of the forest, hearing only the echo of gunfire and the very faint chirping of the birds of birds in the distance. A sudden rustle of bushes not far from me catches my eye and I aim my rifle towards it, when a VC runs out of the bushes beside me. He whacks the side of my rifle and before it hits the ground he manages to pull up his AK and fire off a couple of stray shots in my direction. I dive to a nearby tree and hide from his sight. I hear him talking to his VC pals but can’t put my finger on how many I’m out-numbered by. I reach for my sidearm and ready myself; one-breath, two breaths, and I spring from my hiding place spotting three VC’s to my right. The closest one goes down first, with a couple bullets in the chest. The second fires a stray shot, hitting the tree next to me, and then takes one in the face. The third runs towards me, screaming something in Vietnamese, then trips and knocks himself out on a rock. I giggle to myself and shoot him in the head. Grabbing my rifle I head on to the EP.
It wasn’t long before I catch up with another platoon heading towards the EP. They are down ten men and fighting a losing battle with at least thirty VC’s against them. I head down towards the platoon leader who has dug a quickly unearthed trench in the middle of the firefight. I jump into the trench and shout to the leader “Hey you boys headed to the EP?!.”
”Yeah we got ourselves caught in this little land dispute about ten minutes ago, sentry gunner got blown to hell by a trip wire!”
“Took the poor guy’s legs clean off”, he says.
“ You realise your left flank is wide open to attack!” I reply with a worried look on my face.
“I know we rigged that side any way.” He says with a smile. I’m not exactly sure what he means by “rigged it” but I’m sure the VC’s were in for a treat.
Ten minutes later an explosion engulfs our left flank and a huge cheer can be heard from the platoon. I wait for the cheering to subside and asked the platoon leader what our next move is.
“Hey sergeant what’s the plan!?”.
“Well it’s quite plain and simple really I was thinking of shooting our way out!” He replies with a grin on his face. Another cheer erupts from the platoon but suddenly stopped as an explosion rocks the ground.
I duck and feel pieces of bark fall all around me. I look up and watch in awe, backed up with fear, as trees all around me go up in flames. It is the most amazing use of firepower I have ever seen. I remember as a child loving firecrackers, the crackle as they went up in flames and shot towards the sky, exploding, shooting a trail of coloured lines all around me. I wouldn’t have been in awe if I’d know what happened to the sergeant and his men, for just left of me they laid in a pile of there own blood. The stench of their burning bodies fills my nostrils. I take one glance at what is left and vomited. I take what tags I can find and made once again start my hike towards the EP.
After a series of small firefights and a hike through hell I reach the extraction point. I feel the soft touch of the wind on my face as I look to the sky and taste the blood on my lips as it falls from my face. A bead of sweat falls from my forehead and lands in the dirt. I pull a flare from my pack and set up a perimeter. Once I was satisfied I check the time. I light a flare and wait hopping that the chopper could see the red misty colour of the flares powder. Three flares later, huge fits of frustration builded in my chest and I gave up Three hours of waiting and not even a single chopper had come past. I pound the ground with my fist until blood flowed freely but my anger didn’t subside. I wildly shoot rounds in the air, each round ringing off in my head. My ears ring and my head buzzes I distinctively hear the sound of rustling all around, me each bush waving in unison with other. My heart pounds as I reach for my sidearm, but before I can pull it up a flash of light ahead of me catches my eye and as f I’m being punched in the chest. I fall backwards and hit the dirt the air leaving my lungs. I look down and fell the thick liquid substance in-between my fingertips and hear the slow thump of my heartbeat. A VC towers over me grins and points his sidearm towards my head. I spat a blob of blood in his face and feel the pain as my muscles strain over just spitting. He wipes the blood from his face and the grin leaves his mouth. I close my eyes and remember my home the long grass against my skin and the breeze hitting my face as I ran through the fields. I feel myself slipping away when a mass of gunfire brings me back. The chopper had come. I look up at the VC as bullets puncture his torso and he falls to the ground in a pool of his own blood. All around me I can hear the sound of footsteps when suddenly I feel myself being lifted on to a stretcher. I hear the sound of a familiar voice. “Hey Jeff where you been?” I manage a smile and recognise the voice of my first friend when I joined the army; Andrew Silverman. I relax my muscles as morphine floods into my veins; I close my eyes and feel tears build up I cry with joy and feel myself mumble, “It’s over it’s over”
The war is over for me.
