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Identity Switch

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Pain.

He hurt. That was unusual for him since he’d been told that he had an abnormally high pain threshold. High enough that he could have his teeth filled with no anesthetic. Not that he’d ever HAD his teeth filled, that was another odd thing about him, he had no cavities. He was also never sick.

So why did he hurt....? Hazy memory. Jungle fog and explosions. He and his team had been on a routine patrol when they stumbled upon a whole COMPANY of NVA. It was an ambush. The NVA had it set for someone else but they were more than happy to destroy a covert ops team. Jim, Billy and Joe died right there. They barely had time to raise their rifles. He’d been “lucky’. He wasn’t quite into the kill zone and he’d bent down to duck below a low hanging branch when the shit hit the fan. He’d been right behind Hank. Hank hadn’t been so lucky.

Hank had taken a round or two in the chest which had caused him to fall backwards and had fallen right on top of him. Protecting him. Shielding him.

After that the memory faded in and out. The prominent features were Hank and pain. He’d carried Hank out of there...on his back or dragging him as need be. Had to. Hank was his buddy. Leave no man behind. He wished he could have taken his other squad mates too but they were in pieces...scattered all around. Hank wasn’t LOT better. No legs. Hank couldn’t run with no legs. Tourniquets had stopped the bleeding and their combined supply of morphine had stopped the screaming...but then he had no pain killers for his own wounds.....

…..he’d been carrying him..what was left of him...and listening to Hank talk. He’d listened to Hank talk a lot back at the base. Hank had a lot to talk about. Hank had had a life. Hank hadn’t had a father and mother either but Hank had been raised in an orphanage and even had children to play with. He hadn’t. Not really . He’d been brought up in a creche that was run by the government. In fact he was hazy about the term “play”. Everything he’d ever done had been planned, by someone else, to the minute....to the last detail. He’d constantly asked Hank questions and Hank had been more than happy to reply. Hank apparently enjoyed talking to him. Telling him about his life.

He barely recalled his own childhood. What there was of it. Training. Always training. The big people had been constantly pushing...pushing. He recalled that there had been others like him in the beginning. Slowly however their numbers had grown smaller, and smaller. Finally They all went away. For a long time it was only him.

That was before the Pain....

He had been carrying Hank waist deep thru mucky swamp when he’d heard voices....

...speaking English.

They’d made it. He told Hank that it was going to be OK and he franticly dragged him up out of the swampy muck and was stumbling...running....half falling towards the American Tank Company when...

….......the shells started to fall, and the white phosphorous..... even Napalm. Around him,....on him.

Oblivion. Pain.

So much Pain.

It appeared that he and his team had prematurely sprung a trap the NVA had set for an American Cav. unit. The G.I.’s had heard the racket and been warned. They were prepared. They even had air cover...hence the napalm.

After the NVA had obliterated his team they’d noticed that apparently one or two had gotten away. Him and Hank. They’d given chase. He’d unintentionally lead the NVA right into the tender loving arms of the Americans. The Americans were ready. It was like lambs to the slaughter.

The NVA got in a few good licks but were pretty much destroyed. That didn’t help him and Hank. They were lying in a mud hole between the two forces and received fire from from both units.

By the time it was all over he was mostly dead and Hank was completely dead. Had to be dead. People couldn’t be alive when they were missing pieces like that. More pieces. Not just his legs, both his arms was gone too, and his head, and burnt...they were both very badly burnt.

Napalm will do that. Oh look. Nice men were coming to get him...

Darkness….and Pain.

Hazy. Unclear recollection of being discovered by Americans. The Americans became frantic and started yelling. Something about Helicopters.

Helicopters were nice. Back in the bad old days they didn’t have helicopters. Most times you just lay there in the trench and died.

Trench? What trench?

Oblivion.

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To Be Continued

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I hope you are enjoying this
Yarn

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Perhaps you might also enjoy
Other Books
that I have written.
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AND
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Follow me @everittdmickey
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Sit a spell.
I got the Coffee on.

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