Creative Writing: My First Vietnam War

I woke up to the sound of rain, pouring against the cold, mushy earth. Instinctively, I reached for my rucksack to pull out my canteen and stumbled through the thick foliage in hopes of finding a fair sized leaf where I can funnel the fresh rainwater into it. Our squad has not seen any sort of water, fresh or murky, in days. Squatting, I gently fixated the tip of the leaf into my canteen, and watch as the rainwater gushed in, quickly filling it up to the brim. Picking up the canteen, I tilt my head back and took a large gulp. I refilled my canteen once more, and struggled to walk through the dense jungle, as I was completely exhausted and drained from yesterday’s patrol mission. Our squad walked a total of six miles through the foreign

Only this time, bright lightning was flaring, piercing the black night sky. How long was I out? I looked down towards my wounded left knee which was swollen and had a deep purple to it. Getting off the dead private using my right knee and both arms, I gazed upon our desolate camp with the periodic flash of lightning. The VC had ransacked the place bare. Nothing besides the bodies of my squad, with their mutilated, putrid corpses and sprawled, lifeless bodies, was present. I was defeated, furious, and had no hope. In the first time in years, I began to sob. With tears and the rain in my eyes, I began to limp aimlessly. For miles, I limped through the jungle, completely drenched in water. I did not have a plan or any gear for that matter, but I just kept going. Suddenly, I heard a rustling in the brush. I turned slowly, searching for the location of the noise. Slowly, a Vietnamese soldier came from the brush and pointed his rifle at me. Just the sight of him filled me with intense, trembling rage. I will kill this bastard with my bare hands. Looking down at my leg and back up at me, he brought his gun down realizing the dire state I was in. He looked me in the eyes, and pointed his finger behind him. After that, he simply nodded and walked away, not looking back. In utter disbelief, I walked in the direction he pointed and began to hear chatter and saw a dim, orange flame. I emerged from the bushes and into a village. The villagers stopped what they were doing, and looked at me not in hatred nor in a surprised manner, but in a very sympathetic way. One of them approached me, tenderly took me by the hand and lead me towards a small hut where she laid me down. She began to working on my wounded knee. I was absolutely speechless. The Vietnamese, my one sole enemy, came to my rescue. They understood my suffering and looked past our differences. They forgive me. And I forgive