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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Write for the SUSPENSE and/or THRILLER Genre (10/23/14)
By 1971 we knew too well about the North Vietnamese prisons.

“Move out,” barked Joe, our point man at the start of our O-dark thirty mission. I walked “slack” behind him.

We were trained to place sensors along trails used by the Viet Cong, monitor their movements and at times, stop those movements with mortars.

The routine was to move to a designated spot with 8-10 infantrymen who would spread out making a hidden, defensive perimeter while we were in the open. I heard we had a new Vietnamese translator on the hill but hadn’t met him yet. In the dark I couldn’t tell if he was with us or not.

We reached the location as the sun came up. The perimeter was quietly made while Joe and I discussed where to place the sensors. There were two seismic sensors at each end (about 120 feet apart) for monitoring ground vibrations, thirty feet from each towards the middle were magnetic sensors which registered if metal was being carried, and in the middle of this array was one audio sensor (it could be enemy movement or just a cow with a bell walking by). Each sensor had its own coded signal, buried 15 feet off the trail. When activated these codes informed us of the direction and speed of travel for the mortars’ coordinates.

Holes were drilled with a special tool and the dirt packed back out. Antennas were camouflaged for any type of surrounding vegetation and would be the only thing above ground. The mike and its line to the sensor needed to be buried and camouflaged also.

It was my turn to place three of the sensors. Silently we did our job, digging, bagging the dirt, placing the sensor, picking the right antenna, covering and camouflaging the hole, moving on to the next spot with our rifle, always within arms reach. Always.

Moving to place the audio sensor I looked to see Joe finishing his second sensor; no perimeter guard was visible. Good, they’re well concealed. I finished the hole, packed the dirt, dropped in the sensor, attached the wire for the mike, picked and mounted the antenna, covered and camouflaged the hole and was ready to start burying the mike’s line.

The repeated process: scratch a line in the dirt, place the wire in, cover and camouflage, pickup the rifle, move a few feet towards the trail. I had one more move to make before the mike could be buried. I looked at my rifle where I left it when I started that section, now at arm’s length away. Glancing around I saw no guard or movement. I decided to quickly finish this last section and get out of the open area. Wrong!

As I camouflaged the mike I heard, “What you doing GI?” I looked up to see the barrel of a rifle within inches of my head. Scanning up the barrel I focused on an expressionless Vietnamese face, then back to the end of the barrel, and again to that face. I don’t remember how many times my focus changed. I looked back at where I left my rifle – at the previous spot, now six feet away. I thought about jumping for it and maybe getting a shot off but knew he had the advantage; I’d surely be shot.

What happened to the perimeter? They must have all been killed!

Two coinciding scenes flashed before me. One was a blank screen (this was of my future, my home, my family and felt as if I was attempting to mentally transport myself back home but only had a blank screen). The other scene simultaneously with the blank screen, was one of me walking north, barefoot, head bowed, arms behind my back, hands tied, bamboo pole through my elbows. A Vietnamese behind me with his rifle to my back.

Inside: emptiness.

The scenes faded and my focus returned to the rifle barrel and the expressionless face.

*******

Years later, whenever there was conflict in my life, especially at work, I would dream of looking down on a scene from above at that open area, that rifle barrel, that face, with me looking up with pleading eyes to heaven. It was a short dream, seeing myself get smaller and smaller as if a camera was slowly moving up and away. I’d jolt awake, sweating with heavy breathing and racing heart.

The dream does not happen much any more but close my eyes and…please God, not again tonight!
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This article has been read 666 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
C D Swanson 
10/30/14
Wow - that was intensely moving and riveting. I felt as if I was there.

Thank you for sharing with us, and thank you for your service.

God bless~
Francie Snell 
11/01/14
I would love to learn about what happened in between the two last paragraphs. How did you get out of harms way? I'd love to see this made into the full story. What a gem. Thank you for your service to our country.
God Bless
Toni Babcock 
11/02/14
Wow very intense, real, and riveting. Thank you for sharing your brave, true story! I too would like to know how you were delivered from that awful circumstance. Keep writing!
Shelley Ledfors
11/06/14
Thank-you for your service, and especially for sharing this powerful story. Please don't get discouraged in regard to ratings. Very often the difference between placements is a fraction of a point. Keep writing, I'd love to read more. God bless you!