Chapter 12: Upgrades And November

It's been a month since the ambush on the Iron Snake. Our ambush was effective, crippling the guerrilla operations in the area for a while. But it comes with a price that the we - soldiers, payed.

We lost a total of thirteen soldiers to make that shit work, almost half of the platoon was killed, the rest are battered or bruise but still alive. We were lucky were positioned at the high ground, the boys below, weren't.

Carters good too, even though he was hit in the back, the bullet did not pierced any important organs that can cause a fatal wound. He spent the next six weeks recuperating in the infirmary while the rest of us although hit as well, was not so serious that we cant just bandage it up. 

Now here comes the question, if the brass really considered the operation important, why send a platoon compositioned with merely three squad? Why not send two platoons? Were not really undermanned to only send 30 plus soldiers to such 'important' mission, for fuck sake were a whole battalion. So why so?

Its simple.

Underestimation. 

They underestimated the enemy's capabilities, their numbers, and their resolve. They underestimated the complexity of the terrain and the challenges it posed. They underestimated the risk to us, the soldiers on the ground, who had to execute their plans and face the consequences of their decisions. And they underestimated their will to fight the American invaders off their country.

It's been a month since the ambush, and the question still gnaws at me. Sure, we succeeded in cutting off the VC's supply line, which slowed down their operations in the region. But at what cost? Carter was lucky it didn't hit his lungs. We were lucky - damn lucky.

But luck shouldn't be a strategy.

Anyway, enough of that. Even though I disdain the brass for such decision and underestimation, they're still my higher up.

I am a soldier. They point, we fight. That's the job. But being treated as disposable chips on their chessboard? That's not what I signed up for.

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The month of October was spent on daily patrol, going to town, drinking in bar with the ambush in the back of my mind. 

Even though we still have gunfights with the VC's in the area, its pretty much lackluster compared to the two last months I've been here. And on this thirteen month deployment in Vietnam, I noticed strange things happening on myself, in my body particularly.

My healing factor had become stronger than ever. A wound that should have put me out of commission for weeks was gone after a two nights sleep, three tops. At first I didn't notice much of it, it was just in the late of October that it became much noticeable. Cuts, bruises, even a deep gash from shrapnel, all of it healed three days tops.

And it wasn't just my healing, I also noticed that every time I kill someone I feel something.

It wasn't conscience mind you, I'm already past that. I can kill without batting an eye anymore.

Its something more primal, more beast-like, a surge of power, a rush of energy completely different than adrenaline. My senses sharpened and my reflexes heightened. I could move faster than before, react more than before and stronger than before. I could almost see bullets leaving in the enemies barrel, its trajectory, and anticipate their paths. Its still faster than a thrown baseball though, but not undodgeable.

I seemed like a hero in the comics I read, but the difference is I kill.

The first time I dodged a bullet was instinctual. The VC scum had me dead to rights, his rifle aimed squarely at my chest. But as he pulled the trigger, I saw the bullet leave the barrel, watched its path through the air, and simply moved out of the way. The look of confusion on the soldier's face would have been comical if the situation weren't so deadly.

Comes with such change of my body is a change of my mind. The rush of combat, the thrill of the kill, it became more and more intoxicating. I grew more maniacal with each fights and bloodthirsty with each kills. The adrenaline pumping through my veins wasn't just excitement and survival mechanism anymore - it was slowly turning into addiction.

I learned to control the steady stream of endless adrenaline I feel when I do something exciting. I could control when to spike it up to notch three times than normal, but only once every five hours. Any more than that, and I'd be overwhelmed by a crushing headache and aching body, a side effect that can left me vulnerable and exhausted.

I kept this to myself, not even telling Mack or the others. How could I explain it? They'd think I was losing my mind, and maybe I was. Barely four months since I came here I'm already losing my mind, what's for in the incoming months.

'War really did change people for bad or for worst, and it change me darker.'

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Unbeknownst to Jim, a fight is heading his way, a fight that not all of his buddies can survive, a sacrifice that will change him in to a direction of a much, much more darker path.

(NOVEMBER 14, 1965)

(Command Post)

Two men was walking with a particular direction in mind, each one carrying an insignia signifying their ranks.

Lieutenant Colonel!

Sergeant Major!

As they entered the command post, they were greeted by a higher ranked more officer. Colonel Brown looked at the Lieutenant Colonel and said, "Hal."

"Sir." The now identified Lieutenant Colonel Hal Moore responded with a salute.

Colonel Brown continued, "Last night the enemy hit our camp at Plaei Me."

"How many casualties?" Moore inquired.

"None."

For a brief second, Hal Moore looked shock with confusion evident in his face. He was about to respond but Colonel Brown wasn't done, he pointed towards the map that showed a mountain near a Cambodian border. "The enemy forces withdrew from this mountain near the Cambodian border. How many do you have battle-ready, give or take?"

Hal Moore looked at the Sergeant Major and asked. "Sergeant Major?"

"395, Sir, exactly." Sergeant Major Plumley responded.

"What do you estimate the enemy strength?" Hal Moore further inquired.

"We appraise their numbers as manageable, Lieutenant Colonel." Executive Officer Mayson answered Moore's question.

A look of realization made its way to Hal Moore's face.

"You have no idea."

"We have no idea." The Colonel repeated what Hal said and continued speaking. "Simple orders Hal, find the enemy and kill him."

Colonel Brown said with finality in his words.

"Alright Sir, understood." Lt. Colonel Moore said as he prepare to brief his men about the incoming operation.