#2 : Viet Nam

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BOOM!

The explosion blew Jerry’s leg completely off and knocked Shelby down. His unit had been walking down a jungle trail. Jerry was on point and had stepped on the mine.

Shelby belly crawled to Jerry as fast as he could, evading small arms fire as he went. The explosion had triggered an ambush. VC had appeared from nowhere and had opened up with small arms, RPG’s, and pocket mortars.

Shelby slithered thru puddles of Jerry’s blood. Blood had spurted from the severed leg like a water hose. The blood had stopped spurting and Jerry had stopped stopped moving. Jerry was dead.

The unit was pinned down by gunfire.

The Lt. Called in air support."Bring the Rain.”

PUFF would be there in minutes. At the Lt.’s orders smoke was deployed to tell PUFF where NOT to shoot.

It wasn’t long before PUFF the magic dragon, arrived and did his thing…Where PUFF goes...nothing grows….

The AC47 Gunship was older than Shelby. It’s age didn’t matter, it’s guns mattered. It had winged over into a pylon turn once over the smoke then it had opened up with it’s three side-mounted GAU-2B/A mini-guns. Three hundred 7.62 mm rounds per second had slammed into the jungle floor. The metallic hail storm obliterated everything outside the smoke. The bullets impacted so close together that every living thing, including insects, trees and grass...were splattered. Every fifth round was a tracer. A solid rod of fire painted the earth.

The GunShip hung around all night in case it might be needed. It orbited Shelby’s pinned down unit for hours. Any thing that moved in the dark was pulverized. Finally, at dawn, it left. Even a cargo aircraft had only so much fuel.

Great plan. Except that this time it didn’t work. When PUFF departed the VC popped back up out of their spider holes and resumed fire. This part of the Iron Triangle, Cu Chi it was called, was lousy with tunnels. The VC had patiently waited below ground until PUFF left.

There was a hill ahead to once side of the trail. Perhaps they could find cover there. The Lt. ordered Shelby and his men to recon in force. Take the hill in other words. Once they had the hill he’d decide what to do.

Shelby belly crawled up the hill, choking in thick, grimy smoke. The VC weren’t too happy with the idea of his squad taking the hill. They resisted. The ground pounded against his bloody chest in time with the impacts of the incoming rockets and mortars. Smoke and fire erupted all around him. Explosions filled his world almost drowning out the agonized screams of the wounded and dying, as well as his own hoarse screams of fear and terror.

Taking the hill was turning out to be a bad idea.

If they could turn and run they would. If they tried to turn and run they’d be cut down like wheat. Failure was not an option. Take the hill or die.

Shrapnel whined through the air, thick as a swarm of vicious killer bees, stinging and killing, killing and stinging. Shelby knew, amidst all the chaos and pain, that it was crawl or die. Most likely it was crawl and die anyway, like those on the trail behind. Some of the shrapnel hit him, or rather his pack. He found himself crawling up the hill with his pack dragging him to one side. He ditched the pack.

A jagged piece of Taylor lay on the right, that stupid peace tattoo on his wrist the only identifiable part. The top half of Smith was on the left. Soft, squishy, drippy parts of other soldiers decorated the landscape.

Jackson stood up to get a shot down a spider hole with his flamethrower. Shelby screamed at him to get down but to no avail. The flamethrower’s pressure tank was pierced by a semi molten chunk of shrapnel and exploded. Covered in the burning gel, Jackson screamed as he danced in the flames. Writhing in the fire, sloughs of melting skin were flung off while he danced. Jackson turned his flaming head toward Shelby, reached out a burning arm, and then collapsed onto the ground, his melted eyes searching for Shelby.

Shelby covered his eyes and ears, desperately trying to hide from the screaming, from the chaos, from Jackson. So much noise, so much chaos, so much pain, so much death.

The smell.

The unforgettable smell of burning human, distinct from all other smells. The crackling sounds of burning meat.

It didn’t matter. Crawl or die. Shelby continued to crawl. He could crawl faster without the pack. He hugged the ground closer. Perhaps that’s why he made it to the top. No one else did. He slithered into the temple. Now he has some rock between him and the incoming ordinance.

He took cover near the statue of a Dragon and returned fire.

It had been a trap. The whole thing had been a trap. His unit had been ambushed.

The VC had ratholes, tunnels and bobby traps set all through Cu Chi. They were everywhere along the trail and in the jungle below. His unit had walked right into it.

The VC really, really didn’t like Shelby escaping to the temple. He was supposed to have died in place like the rest of his team. Not wanting to let him escape they directed a maelstrom of combined fire on his position. Every rocket and mortar they had was throwing ordnance his way.

This was going to hurrrrrt.

It did.

Crouched behind a wall to avoid all the incoming Shelby didn’t see the dragon statue when it was obliterated by RPG and mortars. He felt it though. Rock fragments and shrapnel went everywhere. Something knocked his steel pot off his head.. Something else tore his M-16 out of his hands and spun him around...just in time for a final something to smash into his forehead.

Then the roof caved in and Shelby fell in with it.

Shelby should have died right there...but he didn’t.

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The Next Episode will be
#3 : The Statue
The Last Episode was
#1 : Prologue

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@everittdmickey
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