Creative Writing: My First Vietnam War

This is the end, i’m sorry I have to leave you. You have grown so much since the first time I had seen you. I will miss you. At that moment, I realized that I won’t get to see America grow even more than it already has... Ok, before I give away anything else, let’s go to this morning, before all of this happened. It was Friday, April 14, 1865, 7:08am when my wife Mary came into my bedroom and made me the usual breakfast in bed. She got me 1 egg and a cup of coffee. After I got out of bed I went to my office and worked for a while.

As I rose from bed, I could hear my wife starting to make breakfast. Today was going to be quite a day, mainly due to a fast coming winter and the need to harvest the squash and corn was increasing each day. I proceeded to change into my work attire and brown maroon felt hat I had bought myself last week. I walked out of my room and went into the main room where I had my breakfast every morning. I walked over to the table and sat in a hand carved chair made by the finest carpenter in Saybrook where my porridge awaited me. After sitting down at the table with my two sons and wife, I blessed our porridge and had my younger son read a Bible verse. Reading the Bible is a crucial part of being a Puritan since if one could not read the Bible they

As I drove downtown to visit Carol and Lee, I looked for a back way back in which would mean that I wouldn’t be seen. I wandered around for a while, eventually finding their house situated a few hundred yards from a McDonald on Bragg Boulevard and saw an alleyway behind the restaurant. I went to McDonald, where I waited a while before exiting into the back alley to see if I was followed. When I was convinced that it was all clear, I leaped over the fence into Carol’s backyard and up to the door.

We narrowly made it out of the airport. Hank almost got taken down because he got distracted. These infrasound weapons were devastating, but had a major drawback, one that almost cost my best friend his life.

A jagged pain arcs across my chest as I take in a breath. My legs grind up one after the other, barely moving but still pushing me forward. The runners ahead of me continue to press on, legs becoming a blur as they widen the gap. Eyes glancing up for a split-second, I find a primitive strength rising up within me, something that says No. You are not done yet. Throwing my arms higher and feeling my body ache even more, I set my gaze on a tree that lines the top of the hill, and I gradually increase the length of my strides, slowly but surely catching up with the group that was about to leave me behind. As we pound around the corner and begin to coast downhill, I release a small sigh of relief, despite my exhausted lungs. I may have won a battle, but the war continues, and we continue to

“James, JAMES!” My mom screamed. I stared at my alarm clock, 8:15 I thought about it, And ran downstairs and hid in the stairwell under the basement. They've come for me again, my mom has hidden all the boys in my family for 10 years. Every year the interdimensional travel police come looking for boys on the summer solstice to recruit for the war of the multiverse.The war for the ownership of Earth 1. I am from the original earth. But we had to leave. Earth is known a battlefield of the war. One day I would like to see my home. My family believes the war is pointless, mostly because everybody just wants control over Earth 1. As I walked out of the crawlspace and see the soldiers and walk towards them, their armor is shining a black and frightening

I gradually slowed from a run to a walk before coming to a complete stop. I started to listen to my heart instead of my mind as it was corrupted by a fear so profound that it made my blood run cold every time the thought arrived in my head. I never should have left my platoon. It was a mistake. They had always been there for me even when I didn’t think I needed them, but now when they needed me I let them all down. I knew I was weak and that’s why I had run away but it wasn’t my fault that I was here. It wasn’t my decision but the government and its conscription policy. What did the government know about fighting in a war? Why don’t they allow any of their children fight instead of someone else’s? I turned around and started heading back deeper into the jungle that I had come from.

In May of 2007 I was a recently promoted Specialist with 20 months in the Army and 11 months in Iraq. I was assigned to B Company, 5th Battalion, 20th Infantry Regiment; a member of the 2nd Infantry Divisions 3rd Stryker Brigade Combat Team. As part of President George W. Bush’s “Surge” our 12 month deployment was extended to 15 months. We had spent the previous months moving around Iraq to support multiple areas of operation (AO), but in March of 2007 had moved to the volatile city of Baqubah, where we had begun the long and arduous task of clearing the city of insurgent forces.

Six wrestling mats mantled the floors, three in each of the two gymnasiums. A battle was being fought on every one, each and every soldier using all of the weapons in his arsenal. The hands of the victors were raised while the heads of the defeated drooped. The bleachers were packed with spectators. In the thin corridor that separated the two gymnasiums, people shuffled through, walking, talking, and laughing. Wrestlers occupied the indoor track that encircled the upper floor of the gymnasiums. Awaiting their next battle, the warriors prepared their minds and bodies.

I was mounted upon the forty ton steel beast, M4 Sherman. It trampled and stomped on all of its puny enemies that had opposed it. Up ahead there was a German outpost. My heart flustered in anticipation. Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum. Caressing the large crimson button, I was ready to devour. The weapon of mass destruction finished aligning with its marked target; the button like a mole went down then quickly went up. Soaring through the sky like superman, the high explosive shell devastated the side of the building. Swivelling the turret towards the exposed infantry garrisoned there, ready to unleash a storm. However there were two deafening bangs. BOOM! BANG! We were oblivious to the other tanks in our platoons as they wanted to break their boredom. Anyone could have smelt our victory from miles away. This wasn’t a battle, this was a massacre. I could feel medals already in my hands.

I remember the days when I could walk the streets as I wished, not worrying about anything. I went anywhere I wanted, I lived a happy life. Now I live a shadow of myself, fearing that the war will destroy my people. Everyday I make a valiant effort to help others survive. This is the only way that we can prosper through the war. I have scars on my feet from scraping them against the hard rocks. The war has aged me, I cover myself in a black cloth, hiding my wrinkles and grey hair. I wake up to the sound of screams each day, as people can’t take another day living under constant fire. I sneak through enemy territory, bringing food and supplies to my people, who are living in a cave.

How long had it been he wasn’t sure; being left to your own devices was painful after a while. He had been attached to this unit at last minute; the 1-152 IN of the 76th Brigade. He was one of the few soldiers that where held back as extra bodies for the upcoming war everyone was so against. Since he had been attached during pre-mob he had tried to get along with everyone but soon he realized it would be impossible; they kept their close nit group between the actual unit and no one was allowed in. There were a few attached soldiers but he was the only one who didn’t have someone from his unit placed as an attachment as well.

I remember something my father use to tell me, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” I remember a time before all of this crap happened, a time where i would sit on my porch, on my favourite chair and watch over my farm. “It was peaceful”, but now, now I'm crawling through the mud, careful not to pop my head up, i don't want to die. The scent of sulfur and gunpowder envelopes the fields, gun shots wring in my ears. I see mud, dirt and the occasional dead body, “god damn I miss that farm”. But now I don't know if ill ever see it again. I make it to an outpost, a little hut towards the side of our field, “Its right next to no mans land” I state to myself. Its dark, so very dark, “If i was at home i would be sleeping”, those were

I am writing you now to express my regret for thrashing out on you. I understand now that you were just trying to prepare us for the war. Experiencing the war has been something I will never forget. I thought that it would be something that I would never forget for a the good, but to my surprise it is the exact opposite. The things that I saw can never be unseen. I have stood by soldiers watching their life drain. Being in the war has changed me and I do not know if it is for the better. The war has aged me beyond my years and I did not know how to deal with it. This is why I started to act out. My regression was uncalled for and I did not mean it against you. This was my way of coping with the losses of my fellow soldiers and what I saw in

The thunder roared outside my window as I wished I could go back in time and be little again when there was no responsibilities to fulfill, no homework to do, and when I was free. I looked down at my homework with hatred, knowing I’d have to finish pointless history sometime or another. I skimmed over the history book that was laying there taunting me. I slowly read the words trying to understand what I was supposed to be learning about. My eyes hurt and sleep was coming on, I could feel it. It was a war between me and my body, the battle was short and sleep won.