Crime of War

Names. That's all they are right? Just a long, long, long wall of names. Wrong. It was a long wall of the names of dead men. Dead men that had died in a county not their own. It wasn't fair, that much was true, but what could they do about it? They had been drafted. This made the old man angry as his hand grazed the wall, gently and silently. He never thought he would do this again, especially on this day.

Veteran's day was often a day of celebration, for all the men who had survived wars and battles in the American Military. Not for him. Today was a day of horrible remembrance of what happened over 50 years ago. What had happened to his friends, his buddies in the treacherous, horrible war of Vietnam. And I knew, because that old man was me.

My eyes closed as I made my way down the wall, reaching the point of my battalion. I didn't want to see the names, even though I had been looking for them. I was not brave, or strong enough to see the identification of my buddies. Suddenly, as if on instinct, my hand stopped and my eyes slowly, reluctantly opened.

Brian A. Williams it read on the wall, directly above the tips of my fingers. My fist clenched and I stared again at the engraved letters. “No…no not that name…” I whispered. I knew that name well, it was my best friend and combat partner on one of the ground teams of my battalion.

“Name's Brian, Brian Williams,” the large, cocky teenager said, holding out a huge hand to shake. I smiled and took his hand, giving it a hearty shake.

“Hey, I'm Josh Mitchell,” I responded.

“Look like we're going to be partners here, what do you think about it?” he asked me, staring at the large, long fields that we had set up the new base in.

“I think, I'm going to be stinky and sweaty for a good couple months,” I answered. He let out a hearty laugh, smacking his hand on my shoulder, earning another smile from my lips.

My hand traveled to my shoulder as the memory cleared up from my eyes, revealing the name again. I couldn't bear to look at the name again, so I shifted so I wouldn't see it. Instead, my eyes drifted to another name…

“McCain!” Brian shouted. My eyes turned to Andy, who perked up at the sound of his name. “What did you do with my cigarettes? You were the last one that had them!” Andy put his hands up in defense.

“What? I didn't take them, I placed them on your cot when I was done!” he said, confused by the entire situation. I smiled, the cigarette pack placed securely in my right hand behind my back. Brian turned to me, with a look on his face and suddenly, he let out a laugh.

“Oh Josh, why do you do this to the poor kid?!” he asked, his face still covered in laughter as well as the mud. Andy looked between the two us us, confused as I revealed the pack, tossing it to Brian. I laughed as well, which earned the attention of a few other of the men in this section of the base.

“I'm sorry Andy! I…I…” I couldn't stop before I broke out laughing again.

That entire joke had been played on our break, one of the few we got in Vietnam. Usually we were always on guard, ready at any moment to see a Vietcong scout and report in. Nothing we ever did was easy, and all of us knew that going in. My hands grasped the wall and I noticed the constant lines and lines of names again, some of which I knew, some of which I didn't.

“DUCK!” A man shouted just as a grenade was seen flying into our little circle. Immediately, we disbanded, ducking into the various pieces of debris that flooded the street. It went off, blasting and burning the backs of the men that hadn't made it in time. Luckily, I was not one of those men.

From my position behind a large piece of a wall, my rifle was aimed at the hidden Vietcong who huddled in the various homes and buildings. I knew they were there, the grenade had indicated so. Suddenly, another grenade went off not 12 meters away from me, blasting away what was left of that section of the street.

That's when it started. Vietcong ran out, some wearing full clothes and even some with vests that would protect them a little more, whereas others wore only pants. But there was one thing they all had in common, they all had weapons. Weapons that varied from guns, to grenades, to knives. Bullets whizzed across the air above my hair, just inches from striking my head. If this attack kept up, I didn't know how long we would survive.

“Mitchell!” My battalion leader yelled. My ears perked and I looked around for him, suddenly seeing him way back behind me with the radioman who was currently calling in for help. Looking back and forth, I suddenly dashed across the 25 feet of road and dived into the trench headfirst, making my head bang inside my helmet as I rolled in next to my Commander.

“I need you and Williams to sneak in behind the Cong lines using the homes and brush! Use the treeline and sneak around, got it?!” he yelled into my ear, trying to raise his voice over the grenade and cannon fire.

“Yes sir!” I said back, giving a salute before running down the small ditch, coming up next to Brian.

“Here we go, this should be fun,” Brian joked in a sick, disgusted voice. I just nodded and we jumped out of the trench, beginning to crawl on hands and knees behind the homes and into the brush.

I still remember that day, that was a day I'd never forget. My hand unconsciously fell to my leg, where there was a permanent injury that I would always have from the war. But that was nothing compared to what Brian went through.

“Move…move…” Brian whispered to me, crawling as fast and as silent as he could through the brush. We were just meters from the tree line, and we knew Vietcong could be anywhere. “Almost there…” Seconds ticked by what seemed like hours, dragging on before we reached the tree line. When we did, we jumped up and dashed inside, making sure we made next to no noise. This was the perfect spot for an ambush.

We made our way around, and just looking out of the brush, we saw the backs of the Vietcong who took shelter behind several large trees and pieces of debrief. Brian turned to me and gave me several hand signals, indicating that we had to move a few more meters and attack them from behind. I nodded and straitened my helmet, moving along silently away from our refuge.

One step…two steps…three steps. Cover almost blown. Brian pulled out a grenade from where he stood and picked out the pin, immediately throwing it. It landed right behind a group of Vietcong and…cover down.

“GO!!” Brian yelled. I charged forward and began to fire, taking one by one down. We reached the tree line, and saw that Vietcong were ready to move forward. Not good. We looked at each other, nodded, and burst out of line of safety, meeting incoming Cong.

It seemed that only seconds ticked by, before it happened. A Cong soldier threw a bomb behind me, waiting for it to go off. I shot off a round before looking down, my eyes meeting the bomb. My breath caught in my throat as a million thoughts ran through my head. This was it. This was the end.

But, before I could do anything, I felt a brute force smack me, pushing me a good 10 feet from where I was standing. “NO!!” I heard a voice yell from whoever it was that pushed me. My breath caught in my throat and I almost choked. Brian.

The bomb went off and I was sent flying another 15 feet away from where I was laying. An incredible, burning pain came from my leg, and I wanted to scream in pain. Instead, I just layed there and watched as Cong ran past me, completely ignoring the fact that they were passing an American soldier that had weapons. They were running for their lives. I knew that meant help was coming, but I didn't care.

“Brian…Brian…” I muttered between slow breaths. He had sacrificed himself…for me. And I was helpless to stop it. If only he had lived, instead of me.

Suddenly, a familiar face appeared in front of my face, completely covered with concern. “Josh! JOSH! Come on buddy, come on!” Andy began to pull my weapons off of me, ripping off the torn part of my military pants, revealing the large patch of burned skin. “You're going to be OK buddy, just stay with me, OK?” All I could do was blink as he poured the water from his canteen on top of it.

Another face appeared, the face of my squad's medic. It was not only the pain from my leg, but the pain from what had just happened that scarred me. I wasn't supposed to be alive, but yet I was. And it was all…my…fault.

Tears began to fall down my cheeks as my right hand tightened in a knuckle on the wall and my other tightened on my leg where the large scar from surgery was. Sobs escaped my lips and I fell onto my knees, my head resting against the wall in need of support. It was all my fault, and I knew it. All those walls I had built up inside of me to protect myself from the memories, were gone. Crumbled to ground, just like I was.

“Mister?” Are you OK?” a little voice asked me. My head lifted up just a little bit, and I caught sight of a little boy, wearing a play helmet and who wore a cameo shirt and jeans. He had to be four at the most. “Why are you crying?”

I smiled at it and wiped my eyes, pulling my glasses out of the way as I did. “I'm just…remembering some things. That's all,” I answered. The boy made a relieved face.

“OK, you just looked sad. Do you need any help?” he asked. I shook my head.

“No sonny, I don't. Thank you though.”

“You're welcome!” he answered in a happy voice, giving a very large smile.

“Joshua! Time to go see the parade!” A woman's voice yelled. Must be his mother.

“Coming Mommy!” the boy yelled. He then turned to me and hugged my leg. “Bye Mister!” And with that he ran off, down to go see the parade. I turned back and looked at the wall one more time, I knew it quiet possibly could be my last.

“Goodbye…my friends. Thank you for all you did.” And with that I began to walk away, away from the hardships, away from the pain, and away…from the names of the men I cared for. I turned back, taking in one last glance. A soft sigh escaped my lips. “Goodbye, Brian…my friend, my brother, … my hero.”