All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Vietnam
The nothingness swirled around me, my foot hit the grass faster than my mind could process. I ran from the gun shots, my mind spinning with the beating in my ankles. I felt a searing pain in my left shoulder as I crumpled to the ground, I pushed my hand to my shoulder and kept pressure on it until I couldn’t press any harder. I stumbled to get up, my feet slipping from under me, I caught myself and kept running, adrenalin making the pain in my shoulder seem distant. A fear that I had never felt before surfaced that night, a fear of being found. I hid as well as I could, black boots walked by the edge of my face taunting me.
At 0500 I rolled out of the shrubs I was wrapped in, I had to find a medic to get the bullet out of my shoulder. It is not even about North and South Vietnam anymore, it is about the indirect conflict between us and Soviet Union. The last time I saw my platoon was two weeks ago. Now I am all alone in the wilderness trying to process what has happened in the last hours.
My gun digs into my leg as I role to my side to check my wound. My hand is shaking as I try to put pressure on my arm so I can get up off the ground, but I end up falling over. I use the butt of my gun and easily push up so I can walk. I walk to the closest tree and lean my weight against it my head is spinning with the rush of air on my face. I must keep going, movement is the key to survival. I need to find a medic - my wound is turning brown with infection and the bullet stings my blood as it builds pressure in my shoulder and creates an unforgettable presence in my body. The world spun around as I started running.
That’s when I saw one of our men walking my way, he looked at me, then ran over and wrapped a piece of his shirt around my shoulder and draped my good arm over his shoulders so he could help me walk.
He said in a deep southern accent “My name is Bo and we need to get you to a M.A.S.H. unit pronto.” I reply with one fast breath “Yes sir we do.”
Bo replied as his pace picked up rapidly “you’re very pail, are you dizzy?”
My throat was burning and I could barely answer but I squeaked out an easy answer “Just keep walking.”
Very soon we came upon a mash unit with our men. I was this close to my unit and I had no idea. My head thought through this, I blame myself for thinking I would never find a way out when I was so close. I lie down on the canvas bed a medic appears right away with tweezers and immediately sticks it in my arm and starts to pull, I flinch with pain. She asks me questions about my life to distract me from the pain
“Are you married?” she asked.
I replied with quick breaths “No, I lost my mother when I was younger and my father left early on in my life, I am mostly alone.”
I hear a ding on the metal plate beside me and I turn and see the bullet dark with my blood. Then the nurse turns to tell me the wound is infected, she washes it and wraps it with white cotton. She tells me in a slow voice “It’s going to have to come off.” I feel a sharp pain shoot through me right away when I hear her words.
But then it happens, “BAMB!” The power of the bomb pushes all of us forward and knocks everyone else down. I jump up in the chaos and start running toward the bomb, Bo, who saved my life is lying in the dirt with his leg bloodied and bodies scattered everywhere. I grab Bo and hoist him onto my back with my right arm and keep him steady with my left. I lay him down on the canvas I was on earlier and wave the nurse on the ground over to us. She comes over and starts working on his leg.
I run out again looking through the cloud of smoke. Men come crawling forward but I can barely see faces. I start grabbing men and carrying them to the M.A.S.H. unit - my feet wobbling with an uneasy feeling of pain, but not mine.
I see U.S. planes above I know we will be okay. Everyone is in a panic and all I see is smoke and shadowy figures moving through the smoke. Everything seemed as if it was in slow motion creating a dynamic of unknown presence. I walk faster to find the source of the chaos but there seems to be no end.
Maybe I thought the North Vietnamese or the Soviets were capable for such harm and destruction, but I guess I was wrong to the point of seeing the truth with my own eyes and realizing the truth in the injustices of what has happened here. Innocent medics and injured soldiers died because of something they did not realize was there. Just a blast and then everything turned to ash.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 1 comment.