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I wrote this for a class at skool(i'm 18)
I haven't written a story for about 2 years,let me know what you think. PS-some of it got fucked up when i copy and pasted it from my puter. thanks.
INTO THE DARK
The C-130 was anything but a comfortable aircraft. The low moaning and droning of the engines offered some relief in drowning out the thoughts, thoughts that make your gut wrench with sickness, definitely something I could do without. But I’d been through this back in ’66 and yet I still would wonder how many of us would be on the return flight in six months? Who’d get hit? The long flight over the blue pacific gave each man plenty of time to think. I hate thinking.
I watched the blue ocean connect with the emerald green canopy of Vietnam. We would be landing in Binh Thuy airbase any minute now. I glanced over at Rick, he was coming over to us from up forward near the cockpit.
"This is it" said Rick.
"How do you feel" I replied.
A large grin grew on Rick’s face and he said in a booming voice "like a wolf about to get his first taste of blood!"
Bullshit I said to myself. This was my second tour and I knew what to expect, I was nervous. If Rick really wasn’t at least twice as nervous as I was then he was a damned fool.
My eye’s shot forward to the pilot, he motioned to get our gear ready. Lockers were snapped open and gear passed out. We loaded our .38’s and strapped them on. Then, out came the AR-15s and into them went full magazines, loaded with 7.62mm rounds destined for our good pal Charlie.
My heart was thundering in my ears as the plane began it’s approach. My eye’s darted around the plane checking out my team-mates. There was Rick, the rookie with an ego. Johnson AKA slinkier, he always carried the M-60 slung down low to his hip and Dave. Dave was our insurance. We had both been together on our first tour and I knew him well. If the shit got thick, as it usually did, you could always find him right in the middle of it blasting his way through. He was a little crazy, but you could depend on him to save your ass. We all trusted each other like brothers.
My palms and face were sweating, adrenaline pumping through my body.
'Chris!" Dave yelled.
I looked up at him, he gave me the thumbs up, Womp! We landed. There was a heavy roar as the engines slowed, and a mechanical whine as the rear cargo ramp lowered.
As we gathered our gear and clambered down the ramp, the first thing I noticed was the heavy odor of rotting vegetation and the stink of jet fuel. A truck drove up to us, the driver opened his mouth.
"You guy’s from team 2?"
"Yeah" said Johnson in a who want’s to know kind of tone.
"Well, put your guns away" the driver spat out. "The war doesn’t start until sundown. C’mon, I’ll take you guys to Can Tho."
We piled our shit into the trunk and headed off base, continuing south down a dirt road. We passed a village of about 10 hamlets, crowded around a bridge we were crossing. Little Vietnamese kids were running behind the truck, and yelling at us in broken english.
"Go home GI!" and "VC kill you!" Dumb little fuckers I thought, we were here to help them. How could they not realize that? But I bit my tongue and kept quiet. We drove another 6 or 7 klicks kicking up dust and arrived at Can Tho.
Can Tho was a PBR (patrol boat, river) base on the Mekong river. It was a mess of floating barges and a few military barracks and buildings that had been twisted into a shameful slum from the abuse of the jungle.
"Home sweet home" grumbled Rick.
This was to be our home for the next few months. We’d be running ops upriver, traveling by PBR’s into hostile territory. We were going to take the war to Charlies doorstep. As soon as we arrived, a short, cocky sargeant showed us are bunks and our lockers.
Our hooch was hot as hell and our sweat stuck to the walls. The fans were broken and the cots were small and rickety.
"What a palace" Dave said in a sarcastic mumble.
"Don’t worry about it" I said. "We’ll be out in the boonies most of the time anyways."
Rick piped up. "Say Chris, when we goin’ out to bust some VC ass?"
"I’ll go over to base headquarters and then I’ll come back and let you know."
I started walking through a maze of hooches and found myself in the HQ. An old army officer was in this damp, humid little office. Beads of sweat coming off his wrinkled face. A soldier was standing behind him.
"Jim" the officer said in a coarse and rough voice. "Leave me and this Seal alone for a few minutes will you."
"Yes sir!" replied the soldier and he left with a military preciseness.
"Chris" said the officer. "Tell your men that they’re going on an op tomorrow about 18 klicks upriver. You’ll hitch a ride in a PBR."
"What’s the mission" I asked.
"Seek and destroy up in the valley, you come across anyone and they’ll be VC or NVA. There are no friendlies up there, so shoot and kill anyone you encounter. Air support is available if you need it, just radio them in."
We awoke the next morning at 12:00 AM, and lugged our gear down to the docks.
The gas turbines of PBR267 revved up, spitting out brown water behind us. The docks and bunkers grew distant with the growling of the engines.
It was 1:00 AM now, out first operation had begun. My eyes fixed on the murky brown water under the light of the moon. I grasped my rifle and turned the safety off. We would be getting off in about 30 minutes. My thoughts drifted back and forth from my girl at home to the killings I have seen and caused.
I wonder what my parents--- Blam, blam, blam! I was ripped out of my thoughts and bullets shot through my shadow.
"Sniper!" the forward gunner was yelling frantically. The boat slammed into a 90 degree turn and the forward gunner opened up with the ferocious .50 cal. Our boat was like an angry dragon breathing out jets of fire. The sniper was quickly silenced by streams of hot lead. I was over as quick as it began. The Captain positioned the boat back on course upriver.
"Shit man!" said a young sailor filled with excitement.
"Ain’t nothin’!" Yelled Dave from the stern. "Just stay alert."
Some anxious minutes later we hit the riverbank and extracted from the boat, and it growled back down river. We were now alone. Rick, Dave, Slinger and me.
We all dug deep into the mud, lying on our stomachs. We were listening. Waiting. Watching.
The boat was noisey as hell dropping us off. If any hostiles were in the area they’d be coming.
Our face paint and camouflaged fatigues morphed us into the mud and vegetation. We were silent, invisible, deadly warriors waiting and ready to pounce on anything that moved.
The cold, mushy undergrowth scratched at my skin making it difficult to lay still. Slinger whispered in my ear.
"Let’s go ahead and set up some claymore’s."
"OK" I said, I’ll go on point."
I surveyed my surroundings and stood up. Everything before me vanished, and all that was left was eternal darkness.
I haven't written a story for about 2 years,let me know what you think. PS-some of it got fucked up when i copy and pasted it from my puter. thanks.
INTO THE DARK
The C-130 was anything but a comfortable aircraft. The low moaning and droning of the engines offered some relief in drowning out the thoughts, thoughts that make your gut wrench with sickness, definitely something I could do without. But I’d been through this back in ’66 and yet I still would wonder how many of us would be on the return flight in six months? Who’d get hit? The long flight over the blue pacific gave each man plenty of time to think. I hate thinking.
I watched the blue ocean connect with the emerald green canopy of Vietnam. We would be landing in Binh Thuy airbase any minute now. I glanced over at Rick, he was coming over to us from up forward near the cockpit.
"This is it" said Rick.
"How do you feel" I replied.
A large grin grew on Rick’s face and he said in a booming voice "like a wolf about to get his first taste of blood!"
Bullshit I said to myself. This was my second tour and I knew what to expect, I was nervous. If Rick really wasn’t at least twice as nervous as I was then he was a damned fool.
My eye’s shot forward to the pilot, he motioned to get our gear ready. Lockers were snapped open and gear passed out. We loaded our .38’s and strapped them on. Then, out came the AR-15s and into them went full magazines, loaded with 7.62mm rounds destined for our good pal Charlie.
My heart was thundering in my ears as the plane began it’s approach. My eye’s darted around the plane checking out my team-mates. There was Rick, the rookie with an ego. Johnson AKA slinkier, he always carried the M-60 slung down low to his hip and Dave. Dave was our insurance. We had both been together on our first tour and I knew him well. If the shit got thick, as it usually did, you could always find him right in the middle of it blasting his way through. He was a little crazy, but you could depend on him to save your ass. We all trusted each other like brothers.
My palms and face were sweating, adrenaline pumping through my body.
'Chris!" Dave yelled.
I looked up at him, he gave me the thumbs up, Womp! We landed. There was a heavy roar as the engines slowed, and a mechanical whine as the rear cargo ramp lowered.
As we gathered our gear and clambered down the ramp, the first thing I noticed was the heavy odor of rotting vegetation and the stink of jet fuel. A truck drove up to us, the driver opened his mouth.
"You guy’s from team 2?"
"Yeah" said Johnson in a who want’s to know kind of tone.
"Well, put your guns away" the driver spat out. "The war doesn’t start until sundown. C’mon, I’ll take you guys to Can Tho."
We piled our shit into the trunk and headed off base, continuing south down a dirt road. We passed a village of about 10 hamlets, crowded around a bridge we were crossing. Little Vietnamese kids were running behind the truck, and yelling at us in broken english.
"Go home GI!" and "VC kill you!" Dumb little fuckers I thought, we were here to help them. How could they not realize that? But I bit my tongue and kept quiet. We drove another 6 or 7 klicks kicking up dust and arrived at Can Tho.
Can Tho was a PBR (patrol boat, river) base on the Mekong river. It was a mess of floating barges and a few military barracks and buildings that had been twisted into a shameful slum from the abuse of the jungle.
"Home sweet home" grumbled Rick.
This was to be our home for the next few months. We’d be running ops upriver, traveling by PBR’s into hostile territory. We were going to take the war to Charlies doorstep. As soon as we arrived, a short, cocky sargeant showed us are bunks and our lockers.
Our hooch was hot as hell and our sweat stuck to the walls. The fans were broken and the cots were small and rickety.
"What a palace" Dave said in a sarcastic mumble.
"Don’t worry about it" I said. "We’ll be out in the boonies most of the time anyways."
Rick piped up. "Say Chris, when we goin’ out to bust some VC ass?"
"I’ll go over to base headquarters and then I’ll come back and let you know."
I started walking through a maze of hooches and found myself in the HQ. An old army officer was in this damp, humid little office. Beads of sweat coming off his wrinkled face. A soldier was standing behind him.
"Jim" the officer said in a coarse and rough voice. "Leave me and this Seal alone for a few minutes will you."
"Yes sir!" replied the soldier and he left with a military preciseness.
"Chris" said the officer. "Tell your men that they’re going on an op tomorrow about 18 klicks upriver. You’ll hitch a ride in a PBR."
"What’s the mission" I asked.
"Seek and destroy up in the valley, you come across anyone and they’ll be VC or NVA. There are no friendlies up there, so shoot and kill anyone you encounter. Air support is available if you need it, just radio them in."
We awoke the next morning at 12:00 AM, and lugged our gear down to the docks.
The gas turbines of PBR267 revved up, spitting out brown water behind us. The docks and bunkers grew distant with the growling of the engines.
It was 1:00 AM now, out first operation had begun. My eyes fixed on the murky brown water under the light of the moon. I grasped my rifle and turned the safety off. We would be getting off in about 30 minutes. My thoughts drifted back and forth from my girl at home to the killings I have seen and caused.
I wonder what my parents--- Blam, blam, blam! I was ripped out of my thoughts and bullets shot through my shadow.
"Sniper!" the forward gunner was yelling frantically. The boat slammed into a 90 degree turn and the forward gunner opened up with the ferocious .50 cal. Our boat was like an angry dragon breathing out jets of fire. The sniper was quickly silenced by streams of hot lead. I was over as quick as it began. The Captain positioned the boat back on course upriver.
"Shit man!" said a young sailor filled with excitement.
"Ain’t nothin’!" Yelled Dave from the stern. "Just stay alert."
Some anxious minutes later we hit the riverbank and extracted from the boat, and it growled back down river. We were now alone. Rick, Dave, Slinger and me.
We all dug deep into the mud, lying on our stomachs. We were listening. Waiting. Watching.
The boat was noisey as hell dropping us off. If any hostiles were in the area they’d be coming.
Our face paint and camouflaged fatigues morphed us into the mud and vegetation. We were silent, invisible, deadly warriors waiting and ready to pounce on anything that moved.
The cold, mushy undergrowth scratched at my skin making it difficult to lay still. Slinger whispered in my ear.
"Let’s go ahead and set up some claymore’s."
"OK" I said, I’ll go on point."
I surveyed my surroundings and stood up. Everything before me vanished, and all that was left was eternal darkness.
