The jungle began clearing up abruptly. Rather than the diffuse gloominess caused by the closed canopy of trees and shrubbery blocking sunlight, there was a definite increase in brightness and consequently visibility. Almost magically, the pre-dawn mist seemed to part it's ghostly self, revealing a semi-enclosed clearing. The moonlight streamed through a break in the clouds, revealing scrub and **** land, adorned with scattered hooches. The air was still, not even a mangy cur barking in the distance to break the silence - just the eternal "noise" of the jungle - owls. Crickets. Frogs. Snakes.
And the million and half skeeters and other assorted vermin buzzing around, pestering tired soldiers and making an already difficult night hump all that more unbearable.
I stopped hacking the undergrowth in front of me and raised my fist as a warning, signaling the troop following behind to freeze and drop. The truth was that I was about ready to drop from fatigue myself - it had only been about 30 hours since my last "***". Outright fear was the only thing that kept me going. You don't "relax" when you're out on patrol - lose track even for an instant and you'd likely wind up the same as Deveroux [his mind wandered long enough to miss a bobby trap and end up becoming impaled on a poisoned bamboo stake. Took him four days to die, in agony every minute of it].
What the hell??! This wasn't supposed to be here! Fuckin' Intel and their half baked ****! I wonder if those cock suckers pull their information out their asses!
I turned my head to see what the troop was up to. Everyone was hugging dirt, panting as hard as I was through the heat and the opressive humidity. Everyone except Cpl. Lasson, of course. He looked crisp and fresh, like he was out on a midnight stroll with his girl (or boy? You could never tell with Lasson). His eyes met mine and he smiled.
I shook my head. Fucking ***! Slow, deep breaths. Focus, Roy. Focus...
I returned my gaze towards the clearing. I decided that we'd somehow stumbled upon a "village" - since I had no other way to tell and according to the dumbasses at battalion intel this wasn't supposed to be here anyhow! Typical "routine recon patrol!
Our mission was to reconnoiter the river bend and report back. According to the plan, we were supposed to continue on for another 4 clicks to reach the ford - I could see the mist thicken in the distance beyond the clearing, which I assumed (correctly as I would later find out) to be the river. According to the geniuses in intel, three entire regiments of NVA were supposed to be crossing the river and establishing a base of operations. Seeing that we were up against the NVA and not the 'Cong, regimental command wanted a 'look see' of the area to figure out what the scoop was; since we'd been moved into the area under security. Intel wanted to know enemy affiliation (NVA? Viet Cong? the fucking Chinese?), ***** strength, extent of preparations and advance... any and as much info as could be gleamed. My Battalion XO was particularly anxious for data - if what he predicted turned out to be true (as it eventually did), my Legion would be the first to enter the foray and encounter the enemy. "Know thy enemy" - hence why we were where we were on this still night.
I grimaced. I was between a rock and a hard place - an all too familiar situation... but that didn't make it any easier. The clearing and the "village" had just thrown a huge monkey wrench into the works.
Technically I wasn't supposed to 'deviate from the route' till I'd reached the river bend - reason given at briefing was that enemy positions on parts of the flank had been identified and marked. Command didn't want us blundering into them and setting off the alarm (being that we were not "supposed to be here" or some such).
But at the same time, I couldn't try sneaking through the hooches. Since according to Intel, said "village" in front of me shouldn't exist - but it did - it could be the damned enemy HQ for all I knew.
For the 1000th time, I tried to re-adjust the pack straps to make the 35 lbs load sit easier on my back. I turned to take a quick look at my men again. Nearly everyone had the same expression on their face - taunt with fear and tension, alert for anything... but yet seemingly lost. Imploring me to make my decision. To lead the way. To command.
To take responsibility, Roy...their lives depend on you making the right choice.
Shut up! I have enough to worry about as it is without having to deal with you!
But I AM YOU, Roy. I'm just an equal, integral part of you.
Yeah, well you're gonna get us all goosed. Why don't you stay outta my head till we're back on base...
Well, that's kinda my plan. To ensure that we all return to base in one pie...
...piece. Yeah I know! Now shut up and let me do my job.
I shook my head. Damnit it! Stay focused here! Try sneaking through the village and risk alerting folks friendly to the enemy or go around and risk alerting folks friendly to the enemy?
I thought for a few moments, took one last sweep of the village and then crawled back to my men.
Pvt. Rico: "Orders,Staff Sergeant?"
You just itchin' to get into it, ain't ya? Rico was a FNG - that's "Fuckin' New Guy" to you non-Army folks - in my troop. Very enthusiastic about Army life and just as clueless about it's realities.
*in a harsh whisper* "Pipe down, Rico! Just stay down and shut up!"
I motioned my men to gather 'round. While they were doing so, I consulted with Cpl. Graves. Jim Graves had been a First Sergeant but was demoted to Corporal for striking and knocking out a Captain (Graves by doing so ended up saving the lives of at least 200 men. Not that you'll ever hear THAT part of the news anytime soon!) Graves had been in the Army more years than I had been on Earth - he'd seen action in Korea. I couldn't have asked for a better mentor.
"What do you think, First Sergeant?"
"Permit me to speak freely, Sir?"
This was our daily routine - I'd always address him as "First Sergeant", even though technically I outrank him now (as he is a Corporal)... and I do so out of respect.
BUT... he'd always address me as "Sir" (though he doesn't have to because I'm just an NCO) and ask for "permission" - though I've reminded him a thousand times that he's free to speak free anytime he wishes with me! To which he always says "Sir, it's about the rank. Not the man." Yeah, it's hard to win against FSgt. Graves; but I digress....
"FSgt, you know you always have that permission."
"Thank you, Sir. Sir, in my opinion this is completely fucked up. The presence of this village makes me think our original intel is pretty sketchy. Even if it were accurate Sir, I would advise against takin' a chance of sneaking through...."
And then, in one of those very rare of rare moments, he addressed me in person: "We have decent scrub and cover around us, Roy. Advise the **** to stay alert and watch where they step and lets try walkin' 'round this one?"
I was immensely relieved to hear what he'd just said - for I was leaning toward that course of action myself. For the n'th time, I was glad to have someone like Graves to fall back on.
"You think the boys will follow, Jim?
"Sir, we'll follow you to the end of the world if need be", Graves said. Like it was a matter of fact. Jim Graves might just be a Corporal, but he had standing in the troop.
"Alright Corporal. Let's dress the line and lean West. We'll circle at half a click and continue when we pass the clearing."
Graves crawled off to inform the rest of the troop. I took my helmet off to wipe my brow. I unscrewed my canteen to taste some water. My heart was pounding. For the 1001st time, I tried re-adjusting my pack straps to make the 35 pound load sit easier on my back.
I looked up. The moon was still playing hooky with the clouds. A thought registered at the back of my head: Ain't exactly the right kind of weather for recon...
To be continued...
And the million and half skeeters and other assorted vermin buzzing around, pestering tired soldiers and making an already difficult night hump all that more unbearable.
I stopped hacking the undergrowth in front of me and raised my fist as a warning, signaling the troop following behind to freeze and drop. The truth was that I was about ready to drop from fatigue myself - it had only been about 30 hours since my last "***". Outright fear was the only thing that kept me going. You don't "relax" when you're out on patrol - lose track even for an instant and you'd likely wind up the same as Deveroux [his mind wandered long enough to miss a bobby trap and end up becoming impaled on a poisoned bamboo stake. Took him four days to die, in agony every minute of it].
What the hell??! This wasn't supposed to be here! Fuckin' Intel and their half baked ****! I wonder if those cock suckers pull their information out their asses!
I turned my head to see what the troop was up to. Everyone was hugging dirt, panting as hard as I was through the heat and the opressive humidity. Everyone except Cpl. Lasson, of course. He looked crisp and fresh, like he was out on a midnight stroll with his girl (or boy? You could never tell with Lasson). His eyes met mine and he smiled.
I shook my head. Fucking ***! Slow, deep breaths. Focus, Roy. Focus...
I returned my gaze towards the clearing. I decided that we'd somehow stumbled upon a "village" - since I had no other way to tell and according to the dumbasses at battalion intel this wasn't supposed to be here anyhow! Typical "routine recon patrol!
Our mission was to reconnoiter the river bend and report back. According to the plan, we were supposed to continue on for another 4 clicks to reach the ford - I could see the mist thicken in the distance beyond the clearing, which I assumed (correctly as I would later find out) to be the river. According to the geniuses in intel, three entire regiments of NVA were supposed to be crossing the river and establishing a base of operations. Seeing that we were up against the NVA and not the 'Cong, regimental command wanted a 'look see' of the area to figure out what the scoop was; since we'd been moved into the area under security. Intel wanted to know enemy affiliation (NVA? Viet Cong? the fucking Chinese?), ***** strength, extent of preparations and advance... any and as much info as could be gleamed. My Battalion XO was particularly anxious for data - if what he predicted turned out to be true (as it eventually did), my Legion would be the first to enter the foray and encounter the enemy. "Know thy enemy" - hence why we were where we were on this still night.
I grimaced. I was between a rock and a hard place - an all too familiar situation... but that didn't make it any easier. The clearing and the "village" had just thrown a huge monkey wrench into the works.
Technically I wasn't supposed to 'deviate from the route' till I'd reached the river bend - reason given at briefing was that enemy positions on parts of the flank had been identified and marked. Command didn't want us blundering into them and setting off the alarm (being that we were not "supposed to be here" or some such).
But at the same time, I couldn't try sneaking through the hooches. Since according to Intel, said "village" in front of me shouldn't exist - but it did - it could be the damned enemy HQ for all I knew.
For the 1000th time, I tried to re-adjust the pack straps to make the 35 lbs load sit easier on my back. I turned to take a quick look at my men again. Nearly everyone had the same expression on their face - taunt with fear and tension, alert for anything... but yet seemingly lost. Imploring me to make my decision. To lead the way. To command.
To take responsibility, Roy...their lives depend on you making the right choice.
Shut up! I have enough to worry about as it is without having to deal with you!
But I AM YOU, Roy. I'm just an equal, integral part of you.
Yeah, well you're gonna get us all goosed. Why don't you stay outta my head till we're back on base...
Well, that's kinda my plan. To ensure that we all return to base in one pie...
...piece. Yeah I know! Now shut up and let me do my job.
I shook my head. Damnit it! Stay focused here! Try sneaking through the village and risk alerting folks friendly to the enemy or go around and risk alerting folks friendly to the enemy?
I thought for a few moments, took one last sweep of the village and then crawled back to my men.
Pvt. Rico: "Orders,Staff Sergeant?"
You just itchin' to get into it, ain't ya? Rico was a FNG - that's "Fuckin' New Guy" to you non-Army folks - in my troop. Very enthusiastic about Army life and just as clueless about it's realities.
*in a harsh whisper* "Pipe down, Rico! Just stay down and shut up!"
I motioned my men to gather 'round. While they were doing so, I consulted with Cpl. Graves. Jim Graves had been a First Sergeant but was demoted to Corporal for striking and knocking out a Captain (Graves by doing so ended up saving the lives of at least 200 men. Not that you'll ever hear THAT part of the news anytime soon!) Graves had been in the Army more years than I had been on Earth - he'd seen action in Korea. I couldn't have asked for a better mentor.
"What do you think, First Sergeant?"
"Permit me to speak freely, Sir?"
This was our daily routine - I'd always address him as "First Sergeant", even though technically I outrank him now (as he is a Corporal)... and I do so out of respect.
BUT... he'd always address me as "Sir" (though he doesn't have to because I'm just an NCO) and ask for "permission" - though I've reminded him a thousand times that he's free to speak free anytime he wishes with me! To which he always says "Sir, it's about the rank. Not the man." Yeah, it's hard to win against FSgt. Graves; but I digress....
"FSgt, you know you always have that permission."
"Thank you, Sir. Sir, in my opinion this is completely fucked up. The presence of this village makes me think our original intel is pretty sketchy. Even if it were accurate Sir, I would advise against takin' a chance of sneaking through...."
And then, in one of those very rare of rare moments, he addressed me in person: "We have decent scrub and cover around us, Roy. Advise the **** to stay alert and watch where they step and lets try walkin' 'round this one?"
I was immensely relieved to hear what he'd just said - for I was leaning toward that course of action myself. For the n'th time, I was glad to have someone like Graves to fall back on.
"You think the boys will follow, Jim?
"Sir, we'll follow you to the end of the world if need be", Graves said. Like it was a matter of fact. Jim Graves might just be a Corporal, but he had standing in the troop.
"Alright Corporal. Let's dress the line and lean West. We'll circle at half a click and continue when we pass the clearing."
Graves crawled off to inform the rest of the troop. I took my helmet off to wipe my brow. I unscrewed my canteen to taste some water. My heart was pounding. For the 1001st time, I tried re-adjusting my pack straps to make the 35 pound load sit easier on my back.
I looked up. The moon was still playing hooky with the clouds. A thought registered at the back of my head: Ain't exactly the right kind of weather for recon...
To be continued...
