trillions of atoms
Dare to dream...
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Hello everyone. First off let me tell you these stories are not easy for many, but I appreciate all those who have served and I give all my love and respect to those who have served and died for our country the great USofA.
I have two uncles , one on each side of my family, who served in Vietnam. These short stories are not very detailed on dates/times/locations as they don't like to really talk about what happened. I will tho recollect what all I do know from what they have told me. Please don't write a fake story in response out of respect for those who have fought/died in wars serving our great nation.
My uncle Gary touched down in Nam right after the "war" started.He was drafted and unwillingly gave up his freedoms to go fight away from his family for a cause it had no idea about.
While there he told me it was pretty uneventful except for his platoon except for one skirmish in particular. His platoon was in charge of keeping the perimeter of the base where he was stationed secure for the most part of his stay. his routine involved staying up at night and keeping watch for any "dumb gooks" that might try to pull any attacks while most of the men were sleeping.
on a few occasions he was involved with running typical recon missions around base to see if any enemy was setting up a line for attacks. Some were daytime, some at night. This story was from a daytime mission.
While hiking through the jungle one day his team came upon a large rice patty. Trying to not wade through the water the men decided to split up, each team taking a side and walking around.
As uneventful as his stay had been the guys were off guard. My uncle taking the lead was casually walking the edge of the patty.Gun not drawn my uncle came to a thicket patch and continued to quietly scan the area for any signs of enemy.
As he came around the thicket he was startled to see a young enemy solider sitting down on a log with his rifle pointed right at him. Sweat was already beading off his brow as the air was thick with skeeter's and humidity..blurring his vision.
the enemy hesitated...and hesitated....and hesitated. My uncles life flashed before his eyes. "Will I die here in this ******* jungle away from my family? " he recollected in the blink of an eye. "What are they going to tell them?"
Snapped back to reality of the situation he snatched his loaded rifle off of his shoulder and pointed it right at the young man's face. Without hesitation the rifle fired off. The sound echoed through the thick damp air. the bullet entered the bridge of his nose right between the eye, the supersonic wave blowing bits of flesh and brain into the shrubs behind him.
He was instantly dead.
A feeling of relief, grief and pain flooded my uncle instantly. Yes he was dead he confirmed to himself.
the rest of the men ran to his aid, worried he was injured. Then cheered his actions once they realized what he had accomplished. The grief overtook him from that moment on and he still has a hard time even discussing that time he blew the back of a young man's head out.
The rest of his stay was uneventful, and soon enough he returned home a hero to his men...but a murderer of war.
My other uncle Henry, on my dad's side, was a red cross huey pilot during the entire war. His stay in "hell" had a different tune to say the least.
Drafted when he was in his young 20's. His drive to be the best accelerated his carreer in the army and he was immediately placed into flight training after boot. Known for being hard as nails the officers that decided his training knew he would fare well in battle. To be a red cross pilot you must be detached and focused. He was a perfect fit.
As soon as he arrived he was put into a bird and flying missions. Being shot at daily was just "expected". What he did not expect was the blood. After every flight back to "med" his crew had to sweep out the blood and bits of guts and flesh that accumulate during the flights back. The blood would coagulate inches deep in the belly of the chopper and would not sweep out easily. The stench of minerals and bile was overwelming, the air "tasted like copper".
Flying his up-tenth mission back into the jungle, the tail rotor was hit. The bird was going down. All you can do in that moment is hang on and pray.
luckily the foliage softened the blow and he made it out alive. Finding coms on a wounded solider, he called in his points and held tight. He was extracted and taken though the jungle to a clearing in the forrest. Another huey pulled him out of the jungle and took him back to base.When he landed he thought to himself "Im going home- thank god."
Little to his knowledge, pilots were in dire need. Another bird was fueled and running...waiting on him to get back to work saving his brothers.
He was shot down two more times during his tour, but came home relatively uninjured.
The thoughts on the other hand of what happened so long ago, will live with him forever.
If anyone would like to comment, share stories or just say thank-you to all the untold hero's, your welcome to do do it here.
Happy veterans day to all of our warriors past and present.
Godspeed.
I have two uncles , one on each side of my family, who served in Vietnam. These short stories are not very detailed on dates/times/locations as they don't like to really talk about what happened. I will tho recollect what all I do know from what they have told me. Please don't write a fake story in response out of respect for those who have fought/died in wars serving our great nation.
My uncle Gary touched down in Nam right after the "war" started.He was drafted and unwillingly gave up his freedoms to go fight away from his family for a cause it had no idea about.
While there he told me it was pretty uneventful except for his platoon except for one skirmish in particular. His platoon was in charge of keeping the perimeter of the base where he was stationed secure for the most part of his stay. his routine involved staying up at night and keeping watch for any "dumb gooks" that might try to pull any attacks while most of the men were sleeping.
on a few occasions he was involved with running typical recon missions around base to see if any enemy was setting up a line for attacks. Some were daytime, some at night. This story was from a daytime mission.
While hiking through the jungle one day his team came upon a large rice patty. Trying to not wade through the water the men decided to split up, each team taking a side and walking around.
As uneventful as his stay had been the guys were off guard. My uncle taking the lead was casually walking the edge of the patty.Gun not drawn my uncle came to a thicket patch and continued to quietly scan the area for any signs of enemy.
As he came around the thicket he was startled to see a young enemy solider sitting down on a log with his rifle pointed right at him. Sweat was already beading off his brow as the air was thick with skeeter's and humidity..blurring his vision.
the enemy hesitated...and hesitated....and hesitated. My uncles life flashed before his eyes. "Will I die here in this ******* jungle away from my family? " he recollected in the blink of an eye. "What are they going to tell them?"
Snapped back to reality of the situation he snatched his loaded rifle off of his shoulder and pointed it right at the young man's face. Without hesitation the rifle fired off. The sound echoed through the thick damp air. the bullet entered the bridge of his nose right between the eye, the supersonic wave blowing bits of flesh and brain into the shrubs behind him.
He was instantly dead.
A feeling of relief, grief and pain flooded my uncle instantly. Yes he was dead he confirmed to himself.
the rest of the men ran to his aid, worried he was injured. Then cheered his actions once they realized what he had accomplished. The grief overtook him from that moment on and he still has a hard time even discussing that time he blew the back of a young man's head out.
The rest of his stay was uneventful, and soon enough he returned home a hero to his men...but a murderer of war.
My other uncle Henry, on my dad's side, was a red cross huey pilot during the entire war. His stay in "hell" had a different tune to say the least.
Drafted when he was in his young 20's. His drive to be the best accelerated his carreer in the army and he was immediately placed into flight training after boot. Known for being hard as nails the officers that decided his training knew he would fare well in battle. To be a red cross pilot you must be detached and focused. He was a perfect fit.
As soon as he arrived he was put into a bird and flying missions. Being shot at daily was just "expected". What he did not expect was the blood. After every flight back to "med" his crew had to sweep out the blood and bits of guts and flesh that accumulate during the flights back. The blood would coagulate inches deep in the belly of the chopper and would not sweep out easily. The stench of minerals and bile was overwelming, the air "tasted like copper".
Flying his up-tenth mission back into the jungle, the tail rotor was hit. The bird was going down. All you can do in that moment is hang on and pray.
luckily the foliage softened the blow and he made it out alive. Finding coms on a wounded solider, he called in his points and held tight. He was extracted and taken though the jungle to a clearing in the forrest. Another huey pulled him out of the jungle and took him back to base.When he landed he thought to himself "Im going home- thank god."
Little to his knowledge, pilots were in dire need. Another bird was fueled and running...waiting on him to get back to work saving his brothers.
He was shot down two more times during his tour, but came home relatively uninjured.
The thoughts on the other hand of what happened so long ago, will live with him forever.
If anyone would like to comment, share stories or just say thank-you to all the untold hero's, your welcome to do do it here.
Happy veterans day to all of our warriors past and present.
Godspeed.
