Rich Men Don't Fight | Teen Ink

Rich Men Don't Fight

May 12, 2016
By MasterBlaster144 BRONZE, Foristell, Missouri
MasterBlaster144 BRONZE, Foristell, Missouri
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I was in the muck and the blood of the trenches when I saw it. I grenade had landed 20 yards down the trench. It was to late to try to throw back. Boom; all i could see was blood and dust get sprayed into the air. It covered the field like a foggy morning. Then the fighting stopped, the shots ceased and the mortars were no more. The battle was over for now, and we had taken a bad loss. For the first time in my life i felt like i had failed my whole unit.
I was a private in the marines in 1972 and the vietnam war was in full swing. I joined right after highschool and was prepared to defend my home. I came from wealth so it wasn’t like the marines was the only option for me but i felt i had a moral obligation to fulfil. I didn’t see it fair to let the less fortunate fight for us because they had to while the upper class sat back without a care in the world. Needless to say my parents weren’t pleased with my decision but we made an arrangement of me only doing one tour then coming back to the states to get a college education.
When i went to boot camp i knew it would be hard but i wasn’t prepared for what happened. We would get woken up at all times of the night to go for a swim in below freezing waters or to run trails longer than the east coast. After the midnight runs they still expected us to do training during the day to. By week three i was ready to put in the towel until another guy who was in the same barracks came and talked to me.  Cody was a corn fed boy from the boot heel of Missouri. He had said before that he was a farmer and trapper. I never knew that that kind of stuff was still around but he told me what he caught and how to grow corn and it saounded like he knew what he was doing.
“We can get through this. Just remember it’s only six more weeks and the worst is behind us. After this we’ll be overseas defending our country like true men, proud to be Americans.” said Cody.
His words resonated with me on a deeper level. A feeling of selfishness fell over me. What i had been saying to my family and friends was that the rich shouldn’t be above protecting our country and there i was thinking of quitting just because of a little loss of sleep. I knew now more than ever that i would be able to make it. And Cody was right, the next six weeks were easier. It was mostly just learning how to shoot our weapons and learn tactics to help us in an actual war zone.
After boot camp we had a week to make our final adieus to our family and friends. I went home and spent the first three days spending time with my family, reminiscing over the past, and telling them how much i loved and cared about them. The next two days i went around saying good bye to all of my friends from school, even though many of them thought it was an idiotic idea to join the military if one didn’t have to. My last night at home my parents threw me a going away party. Everyone in town showed to to say their last goodbyes and wish me luck. I had never felt so loved before, and that night i cried like a puppy in his cage.
We shipped out on large airships. Me and my fellow men were told to get out as quickly as humanly possible when we hit the ground. The airship couldn’t stay in that area for long due to the risk of the enemy spotting it from above. When the airship left it was like we had been transported to a whole new dimension. It wasn’t what i pictured at all, in fact it didn’t seem that bad. There was more beer than any army could ever drink, barbeque pits outside every tent, and music playing like back at home. It felt more like a summer camp than Vietnam.
We were all directed to see our captain for order and accommodations. When he arose from his tent silence fell over the group of eager men. We no longer thought it was a summer camp for the captain had been shot a week earlier and was still recovering. He told us we would stay here until his wound healed fully, then we would set off into the treacherous terrain. We were shown to where we would be staying and got settled in before the afternoon training. It consisted of cleaning the camp and doing patrols of a half mile perimeter on the outside of the camp. We did this for the next two weeks and then the real action started.
We left as the sun peaked over the jungle canopy. We left early because thunderclouds were heading our way like defensive lineman heading towards the quarterback in a championship game. We got about 10 miles outside the camp when the rain began. It wasn’t like rain back home at all. It was more vicious like a rabid dog and lasted for weeks on end. The next morning it was still raining but we proceeded with our patrol. Our mission was to locate a vietnamese P.O.W camp and watch it until the other troops came. We were told not to engage without backup due to the estimated size of the camp.
We arrived outside the camp late in the third day. We set up camp out of site from the enemy and had patrols sitting out at the perimeter. The next morning was the first time we were able to get a good look at it. It looked as if it were deserted. Trees that were taller than New York skyscrapers towered in the center. The stench of human waste cut through the air like a razor blade goes through cardboard. Worst of all, there wasn’t a human in sight. Our captain thought we were too late and they had moved the prisoners to a nearby village five miles to the east. We began to walk through the camp looking for any salvageable equipment they may have left behind.
“Take cover!!!” said the captain as shots began to whistle through the air.
Pow, pow pow; before we could do anything we were being ambushed from all sides. Every direction we ran shots began to fly at us. The only cover h=we had was to jump into the sewage trench where the smell had been coming from. We began to fire back but it became harder and harder. Most of the enemies were up in the treetops or back in the canopy, out of our vision. The only thing we could do was fire in the direction of the shots.
The captain began to call in backup to help us out when he was hit in the head. He was the first of many casualties i saw during my tour. I began to vomit at the sight of his body laying there with half of his head lying beside him. I knew i had to fight but every time i tried to stand up my legs became weak and my bodies natural reaction wouldn’t let me. Next thing i know i see everyone around me start to drop. It reminded me of dominos falling one by one down the line. Next i hear large booms and didn’t know what they were at first. Then i remembered something from boot camp; grenades.
I just layed there in the trench paralyzed with fear, wondering if one of the grenades could land near me. When i sat up i saw one flying through the air like a squash ball getting hit over the net. It fell in between two groups of men without them even noticing. I tried crying out to them but it was too late. Next h=thing i know i’m covered in blood and human body parts from all over. I began to vomit again until i heard american voices coming.
The backup units had arrived and were taking the enemy from behind. Soon the shots stopped flying and the battle was over. The smoke from the guns covered the P.O.W. camp like fog on a spring morning. When the smoke dissipated the damage was apparent and devastating. The prisoners looked to have been killed weeks before our arrival and they had been torchered before hand. My unit that originally had 57 people was now down to a mear 18. All of them but me had been severely injured.
When we arrived back at the main base I could tell something was wrong. No one would talk to me or even glance my way. I felt as though a rain cloud hovered over me everywhere i went. The next day i found out what was wrong; they knew i was a coward. They told me they could tell my my lack of injuries and the rifle that i fired only five shots during the brutal battle. They also said that everyone in camp knew so i would have to be guarded for my own protection until they could send me back to the states.
I arrived back in the states a week later and wasn’t greeted kindly. I was transported to the virginia Army base. I was told to go to General Wackys barrack for his decision on my future in the military. The walk there seemed longer than any training exercise i had ever done. I felt as if someone poured cement down my throat and my stomach was as heavy as bricks. I knew what would happen and was afraid of not only what the general would say but what all my friends and family would think of me. I preached the rich going into the army for the past few years and i couldn’t make it one full year without being a disgrace.
I finally arrived at the general's barracks and reluctantly knocked. I heard a deep throated voice say enter and i opened the door. Sitting in front of me was the general and another person who i didn’t know. They didn’t even greet me when i walked in the door but instead told me i was a disgrace to the U.S. and that i would be dishonorably discharged from the military and needed to be out of the base by dawn the next morning. I called my dad and told him what had happened and he came to pick me up. He only said i’m proud of you and we always have college.



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