June 25, 2024
SHOOTING A MAN,
I recall one day in Vietnam, laying in wait in an ambush, sweat rolling down my eyes from the extreme heat. My thoughts were alive, thinking of home and the memories that seemed so far away. The hours of just sitting and looking and hoping no one comes: no smoking, no talking past a whisper, and even less most of the time. Eating some unheated c-rations that, when heated, were awful but unheated, the mouth and throat almost wouldn’t let you swallow. I had broken up with my girlfriend before I went away, and my family moved, and I honestly had no idea how to write them or them to me. So I spent a year with only two letters to my name and barely survived. Many soldiers believed i had no family at all.

The day started cooling off just a little as the sun began to set, and the idea I had maybe survived another as we gathered ourselves to leave when all hell exploded. They had gotten so close to our position that when they stood and fired, we were point-blank at each other, blood splattered as men on both sides were hit. I hadn’t had time to raise my m-60 in the initial burst, but now it is cutting the trees, bushes, and men in front of me as if it was angry and ready for war. I wonder, as the rounds are so systematic, cutting these men to pieces, why getting so close to us to know if we brushed our teeth, why would you allow the machine gunner to be alive after the first burst?

My rounds empty as i hit the ground, get another belt loaded, and resume fire; the tracers are going in all directions from outgoing and incoming fire. The night is slowly coming; we are alone, away from the company, and cannot get there at night. It would be a sleepless and nerve-racking night if we don’t leave now to return to the company. We grabbed the wounded, leaving the dead, and hurried ourselves back to some semblance of safety.

I didn’t have time to count or realize how many NVA soldiers we killed or I killed. The chaos is so great you are not doing anything but trying to live. Thinking how you survived the initial blast makes me wonder if someone, some GOD or being, wants me maybe to live; this gives me so much hope that I have a future, if nothing more than having a kid or kids that will one day make a difference. We find hope in life under any tree.

The morning and all is well, no activity all night, and I got 3 hours or so of sleep. My sergeant gets me and two other men to go out and see the damage we caused the day before. If you think this is a good job, you might be wrong. They have often set up their ambush, waiting on you to get your dead, and we were always looking for verified body count. (body count many times was looking in the jungles for blood trails, they would always count them as dead)

I was the second man of three, and as we walked down, I could smell the blood; the smell lives with you forever. I looked to my left and, without hesitation, shot a wounded NVA soldier (my m-60 is back at the company; I have an m-16). We could hear the sounds of the wounded NVA soldiers as they gathered together to build some perimeter for the night and help with the wounded. The RTO that had joined us told the point man to hold up that the chopper was coming with an interpreter, and the Captain wanted to save as many prisoners as possible. I whispered under my breath. These are not prisoners at this moment in time and are very dangerous.

The NVA soldiers were most likely all wounded because any that weren’t probably got the hell out of dodge. The South Vietnam interpreter walked past me and started screaming words at these wounded men; they opened up firing. Luckily, they missed everyone. After a few rounds back and forth, the wounded and the South Vietnam interpreter began talking; after a few minutes of talking, he put down his m-16 and walked with his hands in the air. I don’t know if I would have ever done that. After a few minutes, he screams for the medics, who have already made their way down the trail. They went into the wounded conclave without hesitation and started tending the wounded. (medics the bravest of brave)I walked behind into sight of pure evil; these men, maybe even twenty or so, were near death and had no fight left in them at all. I will never forget the South Vietnamese interpreter as a brave man who did everything to save his fellow enemy citizens, as with our civil war; they were brothers. (It was heartwarming watching him non-stop bringing water, cigarettes, and coffee to the ones that were not almost dead)

THOUGHT;

Shooting a man when so close both can look into the eyes of each other and see no hate, no love, indeed maybe no feeling at all, is insane.