Prologue
I peered through the over grown leaves at three tangos. The strap from my Boonie hat was digging into my neck and the sweat from my brow was clogging my sight. I wiped the sweat from my face and brought the scope of my Springfield to my eye and aimed for the neck of the tango of the left.
"Fuck you, Charlie."
I whispered as I squeezed the trigger. I pulled back the bolt, another bullet quickly slid into the chamber. I squeezed the trigger yet again and the second tango dropped. I pulled back the bolt again and shot off another round into the last tango. Their blood was pouring into the small brook to the left of where they were standing. I pulled the bolt back again, slid another bullet into the chamber and started heading back to the CP from where I came. I ran at a brisk pace through the natural barriers of trees, bushes, rocks and ravines. I lost my footing on the slippery rock and splashed into the ravine. I heard movement from behind the bushes to my left side, I quickly drew my M-1911 and waited for the bastard that was moving to come out. A tango came walking through and ran towards me, his AK raised and ready to fire, I pulled the trigger, nothing happened. Fuck!! I pulled it again and again and again. The fucking thing jammed on me. I started to scramble backwards but it was no use, the bitch was already on me, all I could do was fumble for my knife. He brought his AK up to my forehead and said something, I couldn`t understand it. I took advantage of his hesitation and kicked him in the balls as hard as I could with my combat boots. He dropped immediately, I grabbed my knife and stabbed over and over and over again into his neck, blood spraying my face and turning the water red. I rose and continued my way to the CP. By the time I got to the gate, it was night fall. I looked at the guard standing watch.
"Open up, Mac-V SOG."
The guard responded with speed. The gate opened and I made way to my tent. I saw rows and rows of body bags with Dog Tags on them as officers walked through the rows, charting and naming the dead. I was lucky I guess. 8 out of 10 chance youll die in a war, that is, if youre in it. As I was walking I bumped into my Commanding Officer.
"Sir."
I said with a salute.
"No need Pyro. Get some rest, you deserve it. You got first place today."
I quickened my pace, hoping not to run into anybody else. I was tired, bloody, sweat soaked and weak. The flap of my tent opened with ease and I noticed that the fan was on. I also noticed that there was a note on the bulletin board above my cot. I glanced at it, the familiar hand writing made me smile a bit. The note read,
Hun, Ill be back soon. I hope you made it back, if you didnt then Ill be at your funeral, or the other wayround. Even though its bad to think about, most of all here. Ill be back in two days, if Im not, look in the box on your cot side table, the key is under your mattress. The one thing I want you to read if I dont make it back is in that box, same with a gift. Love you babe, Bulldog.
I got to my bunk and pulled off my gear, tossed my now shit M-1911 on the ground. I pulled off my over shirt and laid in the cot. I was even sweating in the cot, with a fan going, no sheets over me and in my under shirt, pants and boots. I adjusted my Dog Tags as I thought about all the bad things that might happen to him in the two days he was gone, but I flushed it out with the possibilities of what he wanted me to get and read so badly and what he planned for when he got back. I thought back to what my Commanding Officer had said. I got first place alright, there is no second out here. Second place is a fuckin` body bag. THIS is Vietnam.