Bullets and BloodMature

Past 

Vietnam War

The loud screams of missiles falling from the heavens rings in my ears. As I run towards the open field, when the missile touches, a brief moment of silence comes across the land. As I hear the last moments of life and voices of the dead. Debris flies across my vision, some I wished I never wanted to see.

I begin to wonder why I entered this war, I could have easily denied it, if I wanted to but I didn’t. For the many years I was a soldier, I still cannot stand the smell of gunpowder and blood. Me and my companions run; well they are for their lives, from the shower of missiles from the heavens.

As our chest squeezed, our bodies caught in our throats, my feet stubbly finds its way across this disturbing terrain, my gun in hand. My helmet flaps against my head, with ever heap I make over a hedge, a dying companion, pieces of someone’s loved one or even death itself.  I can hear my superior officer, yelling to us up ahead.

“To the field, go, go!” he yelled over the screams of the missiles. I heard an old quote; it said “you can tell who a soldier really was just by looking through his book bag”. I did not really believe it till I entered the army, and saw what some soldiers carried with them along on missions. 

Beside me was the notorious man by name of Husband Hail was rather a big man, who tended to carry many grenades till the point where he his self was a bomb, he also carried gum and porno books in his bag. He wore a weird smirk on his face even in a battle. With a tattoo, of Mrs. Liberty in a rather sexual way, his face always seemed to glow a bright tomato red, as if he was drunk even in battle. I could tell he was a rather troubled man, and that he probably entered in to escape from something. He seems like the type who would cover all his problems, by drinking half his life away as if it was not already incredibly reduced by entering this war.

As we ran, little young Willis, tear flowing as well as nose tapered face, his eyes dilated, his mouth literally foaming from hysteria, who seemed to be the companion servant of infamous Husband Hail, ran alongside of him. As his helmet bobbled on his head, one hand held his helmet to his head as if that was the very boundary between him and the missiles coming down from the sky. The other hand held tightly to his heart his gun, like his teddy bear he would cry for when he went to bed. Within his bag, that also seemed to make his already scrawny body look like a child, it moved rather lightly on his back. With each jump it would bounce against his back, his bag held harmless items. Such as a small journal in which he probably wrote all his hardships and terrorizing moments of his life, picture and collection of letters held together with a thin rubber band.

Then you had Misery yes M-i-s-e-r-y, he had a temptation to tell disgusting stories of gore and fear during dinner time. He carried within his bookbag a canteen that was always filled with water. He also kept strangely enough a finger in his bag, any finger he found he would tie a wire around it and put it on a lop. You never wanted to do anything that required you to be bare in front of him. He also seemed to laugh at things that was not particularly hilarious, espesically the head of a man who died yelling his well butt off.

Finally Rat he and Misery hanged out together constantly, they used to scavenger together but unlike Misery he didn’t laugh at the un-laughable. Rat was more like a eat anything man, he ate rats mostly but he would eat birds, monkeys, spiders and other poor creatures that never had a chance to run or live for a matter. Rat would eat anything dead or alive how he was able to digest that was beyond me. Rat acted very much like…well a rat, zipping to and fro he would if he had a chance climb up a tree. He was a great digger, always making a hole around him before to sleep. He didn’t talk much, just grunted a lot which I think was enough for words.

Together we been through some crap in our lives, I remember when I first met them the first thought that came to mind was there crazy. And I was correct for what I thought of them. The only ones who seemed to be in their right mind was Young Willis, myself and maybe Sergent Benge on a calm day. Sergent Benge was a double edge sword, a nuclear bomb on a tipping table, a female beta and male beta in the same tank. Just plain dangerous and violent when in the heat or battle which was whenever he had a nervous attack surprisingly. 

Sergent Benge was logical when he wanted to, a leader when he needs to be, a fighter when he panics. He was failure in high school, but it seemed that when he got a gun in his hands, he was a genius when it came to physics. He was the first to wake up and the last to go to bed. He didn’t care feelings or even humans at all, but he did care for great aim, winning wars and battles.

The high screech of a bomb ranged loudly in my ears. As a man who kept looking back in fear was suddenly hit by a piece of a blown off tree from the explosion of the bomb. Turning my face away, as I hear the smack of the back hitting his body. Another man cursing profoundly watches as the scenes happen around him.

Suddenly vitamenses soldiers appear from the shadows, bullets fly at them some get hit others dodge. The man shouting from earlier yells as he sees another comrade fall.

“Oh god, what the ” his last words before he is shot in the head, I remember the gush of blood that spurted from his head, only one droplet hit me upon my cheek. No longer wanting to see the scenes happening around me, the end of people’s lives before my eyes. I look forward towards the light, as I block out the crazed laughs of Husband Hail, the tear dreading cries of Willis, Misery manical laugh at death, Rat’s loud breathing, the commands of Sergent Benge . As I listen to only myself, my breaths, my heart, my footsteps.

I begin to block out life and death, existence and reality, faith and believeing. Everything I thought was real, was important now seemed to look feverish now. The lights beautiful rays, warmed my skin. My body ran towards the light, the shadows tried to overthrow me. Using my gun I shot them, hitting them as I ran, other dim lights followed me. Some were swallowed by the darkness others getting to the light.

What was I seeing the reality of life, I was seeing life as what is really was a race against time, against life, against struggles…against everything.

I run out into the field, I finally open my eyes again, Husband and Willis run next to me, other shitting themselves as we run towards the light. I see another troop of soldiers running into the opening. They was also small in numbers, shooting behind them as they ran. One young man who was shooting, duck from a oncoming bullet a explosion enlightened in front of him he runs through the flames. As I look at him we meet eyes, we both nod towards each other as we meet at the middle. waiting in the middle we waited for an air raid. But time passed sons were lost, others wounded. I began to see as men and boys broke down, their faces filled with hoplessness except for my team excluding Willis. He was still a brave young man above the others. I watched him, as he shot madly at the enemy, some bullets hit others wounded, the rest failed in their attempts. He screamed out for fear, for hope, for life....

When he was suddenly fell back thinking he was shot, a bullet past his face. His cheek began to bleed, he touched his cheek as he tried to grasp what just happened. While he took this time for his brain to do a reboot. Husband roars as he grabs up Willis.

"wake up b*tches" he looks around at all of us. Then shots a row of bullets down the line.

A bullet brings me back as it clipped my ear, pain shoots through me as I grab the side of my head. Feeling the hole in which the bullet went through my ear, then feeling a gash along side my skull. In my split of anger I turn around shooting a man point blank in the face. I put my barrel between his eyes, as he came shouting at me. After I shot not a sound left him as he dropped dead.

Then a high pitch screech came from the skies.

"Get down" I yell, my voice towering over the loudening scream. Everyone who was left behind ducked, as planes fly over head, bombs and bullets rain down from the sky. The planes fly off to go into the combat somewhere else. But one doesn't make it, the wing a light, it crashed into the tree growth as it set the forest aflame, the plane was a light. I walked up to it as I saw a now unnoticeable body inside burning, now tarred but a picture of the young man, a wife and baby. He seemed so happy in the picture, why did he die so ruthlessly here... was what I questioned.

A strange ring seemed to buzz in my ear after the bombs and plane crashed as if the screams of the plane fighter was still echoing even after death. I hear Sergeant Benge yelling off in the distance. His words muffled by the ring in my ear. He runs towards me and shakes me a bit.

"Move it m*f" he shouted as he pushes me forward back into the treeline. As the planes finish their raid, and eventually brought silence back to the land as the enemy retreats leaving behind the dead, wounded and weak. Those that are left is used for target practice by the planes, the army, by Hail and Sergeant Benge anyone else who lost their humanity in the fight. I see one running, his face filled with fear. As I looked upon that youthful face, I could see his smile as well even when he didn't wear one. 

"oh no your not escaping from me" Sergeant Benge said as he picked up his gun pointing at the young boy. I wanted to stop him, to grab the gun just before it goes off. Letting the boy run away with his life, and maybe give him a future but I don't. Sergeant Benge shots him in the back. I hear him scream out, he was wounded. I yell in my head get up go, Live. But Hail catches up to him and finishes him off with a bullet to the head. While some turn away, other ignore, I look at the scene as i looked upon the red bloodied scene. This field filled with the blood of our brothers...

The End

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