(The profanity is only used for making the character and the situation a little more realistic.)
God damn it! Why did I open my mouth? Now I have this contaminated water for mouth wash. It tastes worse than it smells! Why should a man be forced to hide in this shit? LBJ doesn't mean jack to me! Where is he now? I’m sure he’s surrounded by his own personal army of body guards while I’m out here in this God forsaken place, shaking in this intolerable smelling pond, and why? Because it’s brave and dead or scared and alive. That’s why. He’s not fighting for me, so why should I fight for him? I break a sweat and even skin under his orders and he breaks a sweat saying yes or no--making big decisions. What a sorry excuse for a life—sending perfectly good men to drop like flies in this shit hole. Where are my body guards? All I get are mosquitoes, frogs, and this fucking smell. FUBAR.
What was that? Fuck. Some animal. A soldier must be ready at all times. A soldier must be ready at all times. A soldier must be ready at all times. God damn it. I can hear everything now that my head is at ground level. The breaking branches, the brushing leaves, footsteps, but I can’t see the sky. The one thing that calms me, and I can’t see it. God I miss those fireworks on Independence Day. They’ll never be the same now. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now in this luke-warm water on look-out. I’m not afraid to die. Remember that. I’m not afraid to die. I’m more scared of that thought than the actual thing happening, but that deal was signed when I was drafted into this damn war. I should have just written my will and been done with this whole thing.
SHIT! I better pay attention or my head’s going to slip under without me knowing. Again with the smell. I can’t wait to get out of here. I wish someone would just fucking shoot me and get it over with. If I were to be shot, though, I would want it to be a man, not a boy. Most of the soldiers here are boys anyway. Kids are always dying left and right. I guess it doesn’t matter. Just end this torture for me, please. I can’t take it.
Maybe I should get out, be a man, and continue fighting the damn slanted-eye Victor Charlie. That’s one way to get shot anyway. Fuck, the damn mud keeps sucking my hands in. Don’t panic! Stay cool. Maybe it’s Jennings pulling me down with him. I can’t believe they zapped him instead of me when we jumped in. Are they fucking blind? I’m the bigger target. Now his body is at the bottom of this pond somewhere and his hands are grabbing my boots. Fucking perfect…“Gapper, come on, man. Let’s go for a swim. This war isn’t for us, it’s for those damn big shots who think they can take out a whole army by themselves and earn some kind of fucking medal for wasting innocent guys like us. That’s what they are, you know? Just guys like you and me doing what they are told. Well, I’m done with that. I won’t be told to stand and be shot.” Just like that Jennings went down. It was too dark to see his face, but the dark didn’t hide the noise. I heard the bullet thud in his nineteen year old flesh. I whispered his name a few times, but the shadow of his body fell face first into the reeking pond like a cardboard cut-out that had been pushed over. It was the first time in the whole entire war that I saw someone die. Jennings was definitely wasted, but it didn’t bother me. That’s what concerns me. Have I lost it? Am I immune? Am I human? I’ve only seen death once before this but maybe that’s why I’m immune. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t ready for it then, but I am now. Jennings was just a point for the other team; another tally on the scoreboard. We are all targets that have a count on us. I was a target but they missed me. I wonder how much I’m worth?
Why should I fight the muck? I need to focus on the enemy. It’s a good camouflage anyway and the water feels warm on my neck. I just have to keep it away from my mouth and I’ll be fine. Shit, that flash was close. They’re pushing our lines back and I’m fucking stuck here. Maybe they’ll think I’m a dead body and leave me alone. Then again, maybe not. What then? I know what…I’ll swim with Jennings and my sister. They know what it’s like. My younger sister even knows…
What the fuck am I in the fight for anyway? I was never a brave kid. I was never popular. I should be spared because I was smart in math, but then again, why would the enemy spare me when my classmates didn’t. I was persecuted for my brains. It’s not easy to dodge those fucking insults or punches, but I came out alright. I let them pass whenever I could but the draft was a curve ball. Maybe that’s why I’m here; my ability to just take the shit that’s just thrown at me. I had to be a man and take it. I let them draft me and I watched my friend fall dead in the pond right in front of me. Now that I think of it, he’s adding to this stench that is making me sick. I wish I could find him and throw him out. Corpse and all, just fucking lift and heave. Man, that smell is so bad.
I need to see a psychiatrist if I ever get out of here. I am too scared to reach for my friend. TOO SCARED of the water? But not too scared of a whizzing bullet? How is it that I fucking hate the thought of drowning but the thought of coming home in pieces from the war is comforting to me? So far I haven’t had to duck under, but if the time came, I don’t know if I would have the guts to do it. I think I would take the bullet like I’ve taken every other bullet in my life. The funny thing is I know the pond isn’t deep, and I know I could probably stand up, but I can’t stand up. If I do, I’ll be damn well shot right on the spot. I don’t like giving up like that. The muck has swallowed my hands anyway. It has Jennings and probably the thousands of others that Nam has claimed. Just some more dead fish in a pond. That’s all we are.
Damn leeches are all over me, making my legs itch, and my hands are stuck in the mud. They’re taking revenge on me for shoving my hands in their home. I guess that’s fair enough. More fair than us barging into the houses of innocent Vietnamese people and destroying anything that they thrived upon, and then just walking away. We just fucking wipe out their livestock, huts, and sometimes their family, and then just leave. I’ve seen a soldier lose it one time. He just fucking lost it. A little Nam kid runs up to him, screaming in his dirty language, and the soldier just blew him away. The body lay there with a hole instead of a face. Then the soldier went to the hut the kid came from and lit it on fire. No compensation. No nothing. Just this reeking smell. I can picture Jennings’s face; white and blue, eyes rolled back, one ear eaten away by leeches, the other still intact, and his mouth wide open with pond pumping into his swollen body. He’s a balloon. His chest all puffed out and his cheeks like a damn puffer fish, but I can’t kick him away. He’s lying on my foot. Holding me here because I didn’t save him. I wonder if that’s what she looked like. I never did see her body when they pulled it out. She was too young. I was too young. Now she’s dead and I’m in this fucking pond. I’ll probably die here and lie at the bottom with Jennings who looks like a puffer fish. That’s all he is anyway, a dead fish in a pond.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was that noise? I can’t see past all the dead sticks growing out of the water. The ripples on the surface are hitting my face. Someone else is in the pond. It’s too dark to see, but there is a shadow moving across the middle of the pond. It looks like alligator when he’s hungry. All I can see is something like a head and the ripples. Only it’s not an alligator. It’s a helmet. Shit! The helmet stopped and someone is standing up out of the water. His face is lit up by a flash. It’s only a second, but I got a full profile of the man. He’s one of them. He was looking in my direction, but I don’t know if he saw me. I hope it’s not a fucking kid. His face is old and his eyes are squinted. How can he see? His face is ugly. The body is skinnier than the sticks that pop up out of the water. If he wanted to, he could have camouflaged himself in them. Except for that stupid helmet on his head that is extremely too large for him; it gives him away. I can’t tell if it is a man or a boy. He has a boyish figure but the face of a man. I hope it’s a man. If it’s a man and he kills me, then at least it won’t be a boy who has to live with that look of killing someone. I fucking hate that look. I hate it almost as much as I hate this smell.
He’s positioning himself. He’s squatting in the water. He saw me when I saw him. He’s going to kill me. I can tell. It’s one of those silences when you can hear your heart beat in your ears. I don’t care. Nothing can make me let go of the mud. Not even a damn gun held up to my head. I can see a long skinny stick in his hands. There is a hole at the end of it. He must be steadying himself. Where’s the fucking sound of the trigger being pulled back? Why can’t I hear? I’m fucking deaf. I’m fucking dead. Shit! I’m under the water, but I can feel it! God damn it. I’m in Hell! I’m in my own Hell! I’m shot, and now I am sinking. I’m conscious but I can’t move. The muck won’t let go of me. I can’t fucking breath. The water is in my mouth and nose. I can’t scream. I’m still alive and I’m drowning. It’s not supposed to be this way. I am supposed to die with that one shot. I can’t even feel the pain of the bullet. My hands are glued in the muck, and I can’t lift my head above the water. I’m going to drown. Somebody help me. Fucking help me!
What’s happening? The top of my head is freezing. The water is coming down. God heard me. I’m rising up to heaven. No. The water is lowering, and I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive. I didn’t drown. I can’t swallow my heart though. I’m choking on it and this pond slime. What the fuck is that? Fucking half a body. Scattered. A grenade. His boot is gurgling by my ear. Thank God it’s finally under. That sucker tried to kill me and was killed himself. Thank you God! I don’t care if I’m deaf, as long as I didn’t fucking drown. But it’s stronger now. I can’t take it. I have to do something before I die of that smell. I won’t give up that easily.
If I don’t get out, I’ll die. There’s no other choice. Damn Vietnam is hot and sticky especially when I’m so wet. What the fuck is that smell? It isn’t gone. It’s on me. The stench is caught in my lungs. It’s in me. I will always smell like this disgusting pond. No girl will ever love me; no one will ever want to be around me. I’ll live alone in a house by myself and never come outside. Get them off! Get these clothes off me! God it’s hot. The grass is cool, but it’s not taking the smell away. It’s no use. Now the grass smells like it, too. The smell is on me forever. I can’t…I can’t breath...I hate crying… the air is too hot on my naked body! I’m in the womb of Nam. Never in my life have I cried before. Not even when I watched my little sister helplessly sink under the water of our neighbor’s pool. I can still see her little hand reaching up towards me gripping nothing. Her mouth is saying something but there are only bubbles. The body of my younger sister is lying at the bottom of the pool. At the bottom of the pond. Eyes are wide open and staring at me. They’re glassy like a fucking China doll. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish does when gasping for water. She is another fish. I want to help but my feet are stuck to the cement. My hands are—were stuck in the muck. I couldn’t help him. Jump! I can’t! Save her! I can’t! Run! Save Jennings! Save yourself! I can’t! I fucking can’t!
© Mikal Minarich
© Mikal Minarich
Hey Kal! Thanks for sharing this with me
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome! Although I'm not sure who you are! ;)
ReplyDelete