Crime of War

Names. That's all they are right? Just a long, long, long wall of names. Wrong. It was a long wall of the names of dead men. Dead men that had died in a county not their own. It wasn't fair, that much was true, but what could they do about it? They had been drafted. This made the old man angry as his hand grazed the wall, gently and silently. He never thought he would do this again, especially on this day.

Veteran's day was often a day of celebration, for all the men who had survived wars and battles in the American Military. Not for him. Today was a day of horrible remembrance of what happened over 50 years ago. What had happened to his friends, his buddies in the treacherous, horrible war of Vietnam. And I knew, because that old man was me.

My eyes closed as I made my way down the wall, reaching the point of my battalion. I didn't want to see the names, even though I had been looking for them. I was not brave, or strong enough to see the identification of my buddies. Suddenly, as if on instinct, my hand stopped and my eyes slowly, reluctantly opened.

Brian A. Williams it read on the wall, directly above the tips of my fingers. My fist clenched and I stared again at the engraved letters. "No...no not that name..." I whispered. I knew that name well, it was my best friend and combat partner on one of the ground teams of my battalion.

"Name's Brian, Brian Williams," the large, cocky teenager said, holding out a huge hand to shake. I smiled and took his hand, giving it a hearty shake.

"Hey, I'm Josh Mitchell," I responded.

"Look like we're going to be partners here, what do you think about it?" he asked me, staring at the large, long fields that we had set up the new base in.

"I think, I'm going to be stinky and sweaty for a good couple months," I answered. He let out a hearty laugh, smacking his hand on my shoulder, earning another smile from my lips.

My hand traveled to my shoulder as the memory cleared up from my eyes, revealing the name again. I couldn't bear to look at the name again, so I shifted so I wouldn't see it. Instead, my eyes drifted to another name...

"McCain!" Brian shouted. My eyes turned to Andy, who perked up at the sound of his name. "What did you do with my cigarettes? You were the last one that had them!" Andy put his hands up in defense.

"What? I didn't take them, I placed them on your cot when I was done!" he said, confused by the entire situation. I smiled, the cigarette pack placed securely in my right hand behind my back. Brian turned to me, with a look on his face and suddenly, he let out a laugh.

"Oh Josh, why do you do this to the poor kid?!" he asked, his face still covered in laughter as well as the mud. Andy looked between the two us us, confused as I revealed the pack, tossing it to Brian. I laughed as well, which earned the attention of a few other of the men in this section of the base.

"I'm sorry Andy! I...I..." I couldn't stop before I broke out laughing again.

That entire joke had been played on our break, one of the few we got in Vietnam. Usually we were always on guard, ready at any moment to see a Vietcong scout and report in. Nothing we ever did was easy, and all of us knew that going in. My hands grasped the wall and I noticed the constant lines and lines of names again, some of which I knew, some of which I didn't.

"DUCK!" A man shouted just as a grenade was seen flying into our little circle. Immediately, we disbanded, ducking into the various pieces of debris that flooded the street. It went off, blasting and burning the backs of the men that hadn't made it in time. Luckily, I was not one of those men.

From my position behind a large piece of a wall, my rifle was aimed at the hidden Vietcong who huddled in the various homes and buildings. I knew they were there, the grenade had indicated so. Suddenly, another grenade went off not 12 meters away from me, blasting away what was left of that section of the street.