My commander told me this as I walked out for the journey that awaits my squadron:
“If you manage to survive, Jake, I’ve told Mrs. Thompson to call you after you come back.  She has some surprising news for your baby’s gen-der, and I know you’ll be a great father Commander Thompson.”
Those words hurt more than “good luck,” because I heard the words “if you manage to survive.”  IF.  What if I don’t survive?  What if I die never knowing or seeing my own child being born?  My first child!  What will happen to me out there?
***
Vietnam Headquarters was not a place for my squad to stay for the night.  The dust looked as if malaria was being carried across the whole room.  The walls were ruined with the blood of the Vietnamese soldiers we killed, and the floors with the dirt and grime that only would bring more sickness.  But they kept us here anyways, god knows why.
Despite the horrible infrastructure of the building itself, we had no other option; it was either this or sleeping on land mines.  While I had my own duties, I slept for the night, mainly because it’s been a week since I have.  Freddy, my assistant general, was keeping watch at the door for any enemy intruders, while Col. Tzouvich was preparing everyone’s food and supplies for the morning to come.  Everything was in place, everything was set to go, everything except one tiny thing.

***
Let me step back a few short hours to the day before this night.  It was a long day, as any war day would be, and my troops were coming back from Fort Zhou in the morning when we stopped for a short moment just to relax and set a route for the next attack.  Unfortunately, my eyes were not seemingly well to notice that we had a food shortage, and none of the many soldiers we had left did either.  We scattered into an underground camp in the forest and started to plot out the routes possible to get to Laos.  Although, Freddy, as skinny as he is, decides to eat double the ration he was supposed to eat, so, once again unnoticeably, we began losing portions.
We started to draw some lines towards the little camp on the map and started jotting down outcomes of ambush or severe battles, when we suddenly heard some shots from above our ground.  As Tzouvich looked above the cover of the hole, the ground reverberated against our dirt-filled feet, making everyone alarmed.  In one quick motion, I leaped towards the hole to see for myself, and the sight was appalling: the forest was being torn limb by limb from the molotovs being thrown into the depths of habitats and trees, burning each and every tree till it seemed there were none left to see with the naked eye.  As gunshots fired back and forth at each other, Vietnamese soldiers dashing past each bush and hiding spot, and I knew that after all becomes silent, those scrutinizing “beasts” will come out for an ambush.
I swung my head back into the ground and gathered the troops.  “Now, we don’t have much time, those gunshots are just a trick.  We need to gather supplies, and make groups so that each one can hide in a safe spot—out of sight!  We may be ambushed, but they can’t ambush us if we ambush them first.  Now go, go, go, I told you, we don’t have much time!”  As I said that, everyone dispersed to form their teams of 15 each, so that most can outnumber the couple of Vietnamese that could be hiding in the same spot.
As everyone started hiding, Freddy, Tzouvich and I got about 30 soldiers or so and spread out east to be away from the attacks.  I decided that we ambush them from behind—utilize our own skills and once we call it out, we all attack at once, crowding around their “failed ambush,” and crown victory upon Rùng Sác Forest.
We waited for a good 15 minutes before we saw a shadow move out from in front of us.  As we almost jumped back, we decided to wait a little longer for the call-out.  But then, I saw out of the corner of my eye, a soldier behind us.  As I turned my head just in time, I ducked my head from a shot and darted behind bushes and trees, leaving behind my other team.  I ran and ran, and then finally when I was far enough away, I called out the attack:  “WE FIGHT, WE CALL, AND WE STAND!”
Right after I called out the attack, I saw some of my own soldier run out to the battlefield, and so I knew that I could finally join them instead of being a coward.  I run in with my AK-47, charging with my teammates, watching bodies fall to the ground, and seeing bullets being whizzed into trees and past my camouflaged face.
***
I was only chosen head of these troops because I just got over my fear of death, in which my mentor was very p----- at me for being so afraid.  He called me names every time I cried, such as ‘little b****,’ or ‘p----.’  I hated my mentor, basically; the fire-red face I see as I push up from training, spit flying into my face from the incensed screams he threw at me whenever I made a mistake.  But I have to say, he did make me a stronger man than I ever would have been without him.
And now, with my fears gone, I was a maniac running through this forest, firing at any dark figure that I wouldn’t suspect to be my own troops.
As I turned the corner of a tree I am face to face with an obscure, human-like shadow, and luckily, I fire him first before he shoots me, but as I look down at the body, it’s not a good sight: it was one of my own troops.
I lied down next to him, my eyes like the ones of a deer in headlights, like I just got shot myself, looking at the bloody, blank-staring figure in front of me, and I felt my heart drop to my legs.  I don’t know what to do or say, I didn’t think I could ever say this to anyone.  And when I look above me, I can still hear the volleys firing from each end, so I told myself that I couldn’t waste time mourning over a body.
Still feeling sorry for the poor lad, I run over to my companions, and throw a grenade right where they seemed to have crowded the last of them, and it blew the ground into the shape of a tiny crater.  It was longer than it should have been (about 12-14 hours), and my men were tired, some dead as I remember it, so I decided that since it was already one in the morning, we sleep in a fort near this victorious land.
So, we finally found this—Fort Zhou, about 2 miles from the battle sight, and in the worst shape possible, but who cares.  The day was long and hard, and we fought through the struggles, and made it here, where we all are now.  Sadly enough, it wasn’t all fun and games.
I counted the last of our men—97.  According to the start when we were sent off, we have lost approximately 54 men.  It was a very small group, yes, but there were many others like us, all spread out to finish what we started here in the Vietnam War.  I hadn’t seen my wife in what seemed to be years, especially from the 3-year battle when I wasn’t a commander, but in a squadron of about 7,500.
And like I said in the beginning it seemed to me that everything was set in place for tomorrow except one thing: we didn’t barge up the doors.
So, as I fell into a deep slumber, looking at the dark silence surrounding me, mixed with a couple of coyotes, I noticed nothing.  Then, I heard footsteps outside, some running across grass, and others across mud.  I look straight at Freddy with a frightened expression.
“You heard that, too, right Freddy,” I whisper, to make sure no one else heard me.
“Y—yes,” he replies, stuttering.
As if on cue, two Vietnamese soldiers burst through the doors, with what seems to be bombs strapped to their chests, and before I could say anything or grab my gun, I see the clock on their chests say one, and I could only think one thing:  suicide bombers.
“NOOOOOOOO!”
***
I could feel my body as I twitched in pain, and I looked around the room with a ringing in my ears.  I could see Freddy’s lips move as he slowly drifted to his death, but I heard nothing. From there I looked at my body, and knew I couldn’t walk home.  I only focused on one thing from then until I got back to the barracks:  I was going to see my family.