The Lone Resistance

July 1, 2008
By Alex Roberg, Skokie, IL


He was a soldier. They all were. Anyway, he was U.S Marines, by the looks of it, and he was out on a rocky outcropping. It appeared he was just sleeping there among the jungle trees in his torn, but remarkably bloodless uniform. A cool breeze blew above, but he would never feel it, for the humidity of the trees kept the heat in. A lone turret stood as the sole reminder of why he was here; and what he was here for. Suddenly a rustling down below the ridge woke him. He sprang up, and was immediately met with the sight of his fallen comrades. He ran up the slope and came to the turret resting there. It was already loaded from the firefight last night with VC. How ironic. The platoon's coward was left behind to face fear. Not only fear though, writhing, seeping, choking death as well. That was what the Viet-Cong would do to him, he was certain. None from his platoon were here to heckle him, or egg him on. It was all up to him. Looking out into the distance he saw one. His sweating hands gripping the handles of the turret, and he was no longer a man. He had become a beast. "TATARATATATATATATATAT!" screamed the steeple as it unloaded its deadly load. It surprised the Viet-Cong, obviously a scout who hoped to seek out the enemy and come back unharmed, perhaps with a prisoner or two. As the man went down a black cloud approached the outcropping. The soldier scanned the trees for snipers, but there were none, this was a naked assault. No one from the river, but that was insubstantial; they wouldn't need many to take him down. Closer and closer now he could recognize groups of them. He considered running. Something cold prodded his back. He didn’t even get to turn before he heard a CRACK.


Pilot Samuel Walters, was no novice at flying. He was by far the best in his class back at West Point. But what he was doing now was reconnaissance, he was returning bodies. His crew consisted of himself and his copilot François du Plesy, a French immigrant to the U.S. Looking down at the green canopy, a break in the trees unveiled a river, no, a creek to Sam. François saw it too, yelping "Oui! Oui! L'e Capitaine!," and catching his breath, "Alzough it appears ze Viet-Cong got here before us". Sam looked down a strange outcropping that was now alive, "TATARATATATATA-," Sam dived straight towards it. "But sir, vat if ze Viet-Cong our firing at us?" questioned François.

"That’s one of our guns darn it! Don't tell me they're all dead!" screamed Sam. If only it was that simple. Sam activated his radio, sending the distress signal which would bring in the rest of the squad. At this point, a black cloud on the ground began to dissipate, as if it was being put out by the tower mounted on the outcropping. Sam flew in, close enough to see the faces of the attackers, and there on the outcropping he saw the Marine, except something was completely wrong. The man had stopped firing, in the darkness behind him a man with a merciless look in his eye stood with a small pistol aiming it between the other's shoulder blades. The pistol prodded the man, and almost instantly drew back. The CRACK that followed could be heard all around. Sam dove upward just as the man noticed him. He was too late to save him. There did not appear to be other survivors. François fired at the assassin several times, wounding him but he was now in the shadow. Sam opened fire on the black cloud, dispersing them even more.


On the ground the Viet-Cong guerillas bickered to each other in their native Vietnamese. "We should not have done this naked assault! THE PLANES ARE COMING!" They knew that their leader would have no trouble dispatching the man with the turret, but still they knew they were in grave danger out here in the open. Seven of them had already dived into the creek to avoid getting picked off, and eight already lay dead. Twenty-nine of them roamed the leaves thinking of an escape. Soon one took control, and directed the men into the forest, but not before they left a little welcome for the U.S Air Force in the valley. Land mines. The sun came out as they plunged into the darkness of the jungle.

Upon the rocky outcropping Jin Diem lay wounded; he saw the marine struggling for his last breaths. Suddenly the man got up. Diem prayed that he would not get the bullet out, no he must not. But the man just got up, and stood there. As black-death veiled Jin's eyes he saw the man fall backward and die, simultaneously as he did.

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This article has 2 comments.

bhoff said...
on Nov. 20 2008 at 9:56 pm
Excellent description. You do a great job setting the scene and conveying the same story from multiple points of view.

matt said...
on Aug. 16 2008 at 7:10 am
good job on getting published! an interesting piece (i always like military stories xD)

so keep on writing!

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