Photo: Lone American soldier traipses through a field as a squadron of US helicopters fly overhead.
—
Bullets hit the ground beside me, spraying dirt against the sides of my legs as I sprinted through the street, breath coming in short, labored gasps. Stumbling, my hands shot outwards as I willed myself to regain balance, chest heaving as a fresh wave of panic jolted through my mind. My legs worked harder, faster, arms pumping at my side, feet pounding against the scorched earth.
I could hear another round fired to my right, then my left; a bullet whizzed by my ear, the sound setting my senses on high alert. Struggling to regulate my breathing, I instinctively ran faster, lungs crying out for air.
The city had been beautiful once. Lieutenant Hiro had showed me elaborate pictures of it, the red-roofed chapels and white-painted buildings sprouting of the ground in wild, untamed masses. His hands had shook slightly, but his voice was steady as he went through the photos, shots of women smiling as they showed off their dresses on the streets, children cheering each other on while wrestling in the grass, groups of people gathered together with metal pots of food in their hands. I agreed. The city had been breathtaking.
My head snapped to the side as I surveyed the scorched buildings rising around me, casting depressive shadows on the ground, the darkness blanketing my path. It was now only a ghost of what it used to be, a center of beauty complimenting the sparkling, sprawling countryside that neighbored it. A completely ravaged corpse of a church was collapsed to my left, the outside charred and blackened, roof caved in and windows shot through. The interior floor was covered in a thick layer of soot and rubble, serving as distant memories of a once-intact, once-functional hall, decorated with birch wood pews and a homely, tacked together altar. The inside was now empty and desolate, the trunks at the entrance of the building ransacked and blown to bits long before I even reached the city. My mind raced as I imagined the throngs of people that used to crowd inside, singing songs of worship, gathering to pray, to laugh. Half of them were probably dead by now.
The shout came from my right, snapping me out of my thoughts with a sickening speed, the tone frantic, the voice desperate. "Incoming!"
A shell hit the ground instantly afterwards, and a loud explosion sounded behind me, the force of it shaking the floor and knocking me off of my feet. The heat of the flames rushed like a wave past my head, and I scrambled on my hands and knees away from the source, coughing weakly. My arms shook as I rolled into a nearby ditch in the dirt, limbs weak from exertion, nose running and filled with smoke. My ears were ringing, blocking out most of the noise, but my eyes were wide as I watched the soldier that had tried to give me the harrowing warning become engulfed in wild, blinding fire.
"HELP!" He screamed, throat raw as he collapsed onto the ground, setting grass aflame, convulsing violently. "HELP ME..!"
I looked on in horror, frozen in place, unable to do anything as my eyes locked onto his and watched them slowly melt. His spasms slowed, voice silent, and he twitched once before growing still.
Swallowing the vomit that rose in my throat, I gasped for air as I dragged myself out of the pit, frantically stomping out the fire that had sparked up on my pant leg. It was extinguished with a hiss, and I struggled to get back up to my feet, panting, hands curling around the handle of my rifle. My stare scraped over the street, bombed buildings collapsing on sight, and I ducked down with a jolt as another shell exploded on the dirt, sending a huge spray of dirt and upturned grass falling onto my shoulders.
I screwed my eyes shut tightly, sinking back into the brush, breathing erratic as my ears searched for sound in the now-darkened world. Shots rang out through the city, incessant and unceasing as they sailed through the air. Yelling echoed past the buildings, in English and Vietnamese, orders and warnings and screams of pain, but my rapidly numbing brain wasn't able to decipher any of it. Another explosion sounded, then two more, then a bigger one. The air was rife with the smell of burnt flesh and the flames crackled behind me. We were losing the battle.
My eyelids fluttered open and I tightened my soot-stained fingers around my gun, inching out of the ditch with all the strength I could muster. Silent panic overwhelmed me, but I tried as hard as I could to focus on one thing and one thing only.
I had to find the group.
I took a deep breath before scrambling to my feet and charging out of the underbrush, running as fast as I possibly could towards the opposite side of the street. My heart pounded out of my chest, dark brown boots churning the earth under me as I willed my already-weakened legs to move faster. Bullets peppered the ground behind me, and I screamed as I darted into the alley, knocking over a stack of wooden crates, reaching a hand out to run my fingertips against the wall.
The shooting continued, following me even as I ducked into a bomber's alcove, hugging my rifle close to my chest as the shots got closer and closer to my hiding space. They rang in my ears, the sound disorienting as I felt the numbness from before creep back into my head again, willing me to stay calm. Everything was going to be okay. Everything was alright.
I cocked my gun, leaned out from behind the wall, and fired rapidly up into the nearby buildings, arms jerking back with recoil. The bullets shot through the wall a dozen times, sending plaster raining down from the sky, settling lightly on my heavy navy green jacket. A bloodcurdling scream rose like a beacon into the air, and the fire stopped.
Slowly, tentatively, I inched out of the alleyway, bright sun spilling like water onto my body, unbearably hot, unceasingly present. The surrounding area seemed to be more serene, more peaceful, and I shielded my eyes as I shrank back against the wall.
Trees rustled in the breeze, unbothered by the chaos, grass rippled underfoot. The houses lay in neat lines on the unpaved road, dirt beaten down by years of quick striding and slow shambling. My eyebrows furrowed as I focused my glassy stare on the dead bodies that were littered not twenty feet away from me, faces all turned towards the ground, backs being beaten by the sun. The light glanced off of one of their tags, sending a ray of brightness into my eyes. I sighed deeply.
My feet worked first, carrying me unsurely across the street, brain slowly building up the ability to think again. I had to find the group, had to see if they were to okay, had to apologize for getting lost. And almost getting killed. They would never have forgiven me if I did.
I crossed one road, then another. Everything was silent as my legs shook, dragging me across the dusty expanse, the air hot and stifling as I sucked in lungful after lungful. The city rose with a melancholy tone around me, occasionally peppered with a distant gunshot or explosion. My thoughts kept returning to Hank, Hank smiling, Hank lowering the brim of his cap while he slept, Hank firing shot after shot into the trees, leaves rustling as he spoke frantically to me.
Please be alive. I prayed desperately. Please, please, be alive.
Suddenly, I was aware of the shift in the air, and my gaze traveled upwards instantly, locking onto the mass of metal moving through the air. My heart sunk as I recognized the dull chopping of the motors, the spinning of the blades on the top of the chopper. I had only a second to register it before my eyes widened and I shot behind the wall, arms flying up to bend my body into a tight ball, knees tucked into my chest.
I saw, in slow motion, the huge shell drop from the underside of the carrier and plummet through the air, wind rushing like water past it. It was painted gray and a bright shade of orange that I noticed as being humorously odd.
Then it hit the ground.
My eyes instantly snapped shut as the explosion rocketed through the street, slamming me back against the wall as my fingers dug into my head, covering my ears with a firm grip as heat radiated through my body. Rocks flew against the wall, pelting my body with razor-like sharpness. Cuts instantly ran along my face and exposed forearms, dust spraying into the air and clogging my throat. Aftershocks rippled over the uneven floor and I gasped quietly, still in horrified surprise at the force of the blow.
I staggered to my feet weakly, one arm against the wall to hold myself up, willing my hearing to come back. Red dust curled through the air like a thick fog, obscuring my view, spiraling around my head like tendrils of smoke. I could see faint lights through the hazy cloud, figures appearing and disappearing from sight. A fatigue settled into me, tears forming in the corners of my eyes, and I cupped my trembling hands to the corners of my mouth and screamed.
"Lieutenant Hiro! " The words tumbled out rapidly, desperately, and my voice broke as my throat was ripped raw from the sound of my shouts. "Lieutenant Hiroulin! Devy! Devy..!"
Then one last gut-wrenching scream, louder than the rest.
"HANK..!"
—
I woke up with a start, gasping for breath, body damp in the pool of sweat that had formed under me. Panic and terror were still hanging over me like fog and I gripped the sheets until my knuckles went white, willing myself to calm down.
"Just a dream," I whispered softly, my breath hitching in my chest, mind racing as my glistening eyes traveled around the room.
It was dark, pitch black save for the gentle light spilling in through the blinds hanging over the window. A clock was ticking faintly from its place on my dresser, and through the shroud of night I squinted, making out the time to be around two in the morning. A bird called quietly outside.
I sat up slowly, mind still reeling from the terrifying memory that had plagued my thoughts just moments earlier. My shirt hung loosely off of my small frame, and I brought it up to wipe at my face, eyes glancing over my quivering hands in the dim yellow light. It was softly serene in the room, peaceful, a stark contrast to the nightmare that I had been thrust into night after night. I was tired, tired of the fear.
Quietly, I peeled the covers off, standing up on trembling legs as I crossed over the scratchy carpet, kneeling in front of the closet. As silently as I could, I tugged the slotted doors open, wincing as I heard them scraping over the floor, and immediately my exhausted gaze settled on drawer almost completely concealed under a pile of neatly folded clothes.
Roughly tossing the pile aside, my fingers wrapped around the handle of the drawer and pulled it open. My breath caught as I looked at the singular item lying inside, and as I brought it out of its place, I could feel my chest start to tighten.
The dark green shirt was soft, cool under my touch, and I unfolded it carefully and held it out in front of my small figure with increasing difficulty. The buttoned sleeves were stained with dirt and soot, and it was obvious by the wrinkles that it was once cloyingly rolled up. A badge was adorning the left sleeve, stitched on roughly, displayed in as proud a manner as possible, a badge symbolizing courage and honor. Emotion swelled in my heart as my eyes finally settled onto the name etched into the left chest, stoic black against the deep shade of green.
Hank Barlon.
Suddenly, unable to bear it anymore, I clutched the shirt to my chest, hugging it tightly, gripping the cloth with shaking hands. Letting out a weak sob, I sunk to the ground, shoulders shaking as cool tears stained the carpet. My mind was full of jumbled thoughts, and I whimpered softly as I tried to press the only belonging of his that survived closer and closer to my heart.
The light from the blinds illuminated me as I collapsed, sobbing on the floor, alone in the otherwise silent room.
That name had meant everything to me.
It still does.