March 8, 1965
I think the sea is making me sick. I've been on this boat for three days now. I have no idea how much longer we are going to be here. From what I know, the time is 8:13 A.M. I haven't really talked to anyone outside of my friends from Parris Island.
Sam told me that he may be getting sick too. I remember seeing him last night. He was leaning over the side of the ship. When he turned and looked at me, it was clear he was vomiting. Yeah, none of us are having a good time here.
Well, I think I am going to get some sleep, I will report back when I can.
4:52 P.M: A lot has happened since the last time I wrote to you. When I stopped writing, Sam called me over to the exit of the ship.
What I saw left me in shock. Land; we were almost at land! We glanced at each other in pure excitement and ran to grab our supplies. I grabbed my bag (what we call "Tactical Backpacks") I also grabbed my helmet, my canteen of water, and most importantly, my journal. Around nine this morning, I felt the motion of the ship come to a stop. Along with a bunch of the other men, I ran to the side of the ship to look ashore. We were here! We were actually here in Vietnam! I saw hundreds of advisors and citizens. They were holding signs, welcoming us, smiles on their faces. I couldn't help but wave at the people on the beach.
When the door lowered down, I was one of the first to step off. I grabbed Sam by the wrist and dragged him off the ship. We both landed face first into the edge of the water, taking a mouthful of sand in the process.
I got up from the sand, coughing up sand and salt water. "I can't believe it! We're here!" I exclaimed. Sam pulled me into a celebratory hug.
"We did it, little Retriever. We made it."
Connor and Lawrence were right behind us. Lawrence gave me a slight grin as they walked by. He knocked my helmet down over my eyes, just as a little gesture. I didn't understand why.
As everyone was slowly making their way off the ship, I was approached by a woman. Her hair was pulled back in two pigtails and she had a camera around her shoulders. I simply assumed she was a photographer.
She introduced herself as Katie. Apparently, she was working with a magazine in the U.S about the war, and she wanted to take a photo of me for the cover! I nodded, grinning ear to ear.
The photo wasn't just me. I was with Sam as well. We had our arms around each other's shoulders, and we were laughing. I love that photo. I got to see it when she was done. The two of us looked like lifelong friends. I loved it.
We all got off the ship, and a man who I could only assume was a military advisor took control. He led the battalion into the jungles. It felt like we were walking for hours. Sam, Connor, and Lawrence were right by my side. We talked about anything; boot camp, our thoughts, life back home.
I avoided life back at home. They couldn't know that. If they did, they'd know my secret. When they asked me about home, I told them that it wasn't important.
"Private Gray, always a man of mystery," Sam chuckled, provoking a smirk from me. I guess that is true. Finally, we came to this clearing area. Tents lined up everywhere, like people were there. The advisor explained that this is where we would be staying. I watched in amaze as we all trudged out of the jungles into the clearing.
Tents were lined up in the hundreds. I saw what looked like an Air Base behind our tents. It was just incredible! Sam and I glanced at each other in awe. We didn't get a tent just yet. There was this whole processing thing we did. It was sort of an awkward introduction, to sum it up. An advisor assigned Sam and I in different tents. I still had Connor with me. Lawrence wasn't with me either. He was probably off with some other guys in our platoon. There were probably two other men in our tent who I didn't know very well. We all dropped down our bags and took a quick break. I flopped down next to Connor, who was laying on the floor.
"Can't believe it, fellas. We're here," he sighed under his breath. Well, now that we were here, what now?
I simply glanced over at my friend. After a brief moment of silence, another man opened the tent.
"Hey fellas. They need everyone outside," he spoke. He introduced himself as Cpl. Bailey. I could tell he was a higher up. He had the patch to show it. Connor and I, along with the two others, all got up and left the tent. I don't remember what they wanted us for, though. My mind has been filled all day. Now, I am just letting everything out onto this paper. Because it is getting dark, I have to close for today. I'll write back when I can.
Sincerely, Retriever
(Since that's what they're calling me)
March 14, 1965
Today started out like any other. I woke up slightly earlier than everyone else. So, I got up and went to the latrine (it's basically a restroom but outdoors.) I was back in my tent before we had to wake up, so nobody knew I left. After the ruckus when we woke up, there was a meal. I didn't eat much, honestly. My stomach just felt too full. I remember looking around at my fellow GIs. They were average men, just like me. Well, not just like me, I ain't a man. In these three months, I had nearly forgotten that I'm not really a man. I guess it's easy when your mind is occupied by the thought of death.
Once breakfast was over, that was when the real work began. We were all put into these different squads. There are about 13 guys in my squad. This time around, I had all three of my buddies with me. We were one of the three fireteams. There were two other teams, and then our squad leader. I noticed that Cpl. Bailey was in another team on our squad. I didn't recognize anyone else, though. After we were settled in, our leader set off, having the rest of us follow him.
(P.S. I read the name on his pocket. S. Howard is his name apparently. I wonder what the S stands for. Also, he's a lieutenant. I can tell my his patch. Seen multiple like it.)
The day was very monotonous. It felt like we were walking for 15 hours straight! Lt. Howard said that our goal was to search and destroy any 'Charlies.' I asked Sam what that means. He said he didn't know. Must be a name for Vietnamese folk. Not that it matters.
I got to see a lot of the countryside, though! There were lots of farmers working in fields by where we were searching. I saw a few kids run by the roads, laughing and playing. It was like they didn't have a care in the world.
I remember being like that. Before all of this, well, whatever this is. I wish I could go back sometimes. I know I can't, though. My mind felt like it wandered off into a dark place after that event.
My mind ran for the rest of the day. We didn't get back to base until rather late at night, right before we were to be asleep. My thoughts raced as I slowly drifted off to sleep. The thoughts were horrid.
What is it going to be like the first time I kill someone? What does it feel like to be shot, or stabbed, or ambushed? What does it feel like to see your friends in pain?
What does it feel like to die?
Sincerely, Retriever
March 19, 1965
It's been a few days since I last wrote. I'm not crazily busy, to be honest. Nothing exciting ever happens on our search patrols. It's just walking and hearing your heart jump to your ears. Nothing exciting.
Lt. Howard is a very uptight man. He's strict, but anxious. Something tells me he has experienced war before. He's older, and has a look that shows he's seen the worst of the worst. I asked the other soldiers if they know anything. All they say to me is, "He's got The Thousand Yard Stare."
After that patrol, I spoke to a photographer who was near our camp in Da Nang. It was the same one from the beach; Katie. She explained to me that a thousand yard stare came from a painting from World War II. Apparently, if you are in war for too long, your expressions become blank.
That won't happen to me. It can't. Even the other soldiers say that I lack it. They say, "I don't know how this kid is going to pull through, but he will."
I've made myself a reputation among the troops as of late. Apparently, my 'fierce determination' combined with 'my lack of a social life' gave people a reason to keep me around. Well, at least for now.
An older marine asked me why they call me Retriever. I just said, "A multitude of reasons." Really, I am just good at searching. Also, I'm shorter than the others. Plus, Sgt. Miller would call me impulsive, yet loyal; kind of like a dog. That's what they say, at least.
Well, doesn't really matter in all honesty. We all had ridiculous nicknames at one time or another. However, I think this one's going to be staying.
Sincerely, Retriever
March 22, 1965
Today, my patrol was attacked for the very first time.
It all happened in an instant. It started off as an average day. You know, trudging through the jungle, the sun beating down on my face. The guys and I were a sweaty mess. I rolled up my sleeves in an attempt to allow air to reach my arms. However, there was no avail.
Cpl. Bailey noticed that I had been staring down for God knows how long. So, he spoke to me.
"Hey, chin up Retriever. We got a mission to complete." I slightly grinned as he patted my back before speeding up. Cpl. Bailey is a nice man. He's like an older brother to all of the privates, like me. At the HQ, he talks about his wife and life back home in Georgia.
(Also, his wife is an Army Nurse! Who'd've thought?)
I was going to ask him a question. Don't remember what it was. All I remember is the sound of bullets flying past our ears.
I heard Lt. Howard exclaim something that sounded like, "GET DOWN!" Whether is was from the command or just the pure shock, I landed face down into the jungle floor. I almost hit my head on a rock.
The bullets kept coming as I pulled my rifle to my chest. I could barely hear. My heart was pounding too heavily in my ears. Quickly, I dove behind a tree log that had fallen over.
"Sir! What do we do?!" I heard Connor ask Lt. Howard. Under all the gun fire, they somehow spoke in a calm, yet demanding tone.
"Well, fire back! That's what we do!" Both of them took aim and fired back into the jungle. I didn't see who was firing at us, but somebody was. Cpl. Bailey and I followed the instructions and let out guns shoot out into the treeline. One by one, the gunfire from enemy lines stopped. As the jungle came silent, Lt. Howard made a quick examination for any injuries.
Sam almost twisted his leg after tripping over the log of a fallen tree. Other than that, everyone else was just in a state of shock.
It was just one fight, yet I felt exhausted. I have no idea what happened, yet it did. It was my first ever jungle fight.
I helped Sam on the way back to camp. In the shock and his near injury, Sam couldn't speak. I don't blame him. What started as a simple patrol ended in possible death. Well, I think we got lucky this time.
Sincerely, Retriever
(P.S. My hair has been growing back since I was shaved at the island)
March 31, 1965
Ever since the jungle gunfight, Sam has barely spoken. I think he is still shaken up from what happened. He had gotten better in the last two days. He can hold a conversation, barely.
Connor has been talking to Lawrence a bunch lately. I think Lawrence may have told him about the, well, incident on the island. I just hope he didn't say that it was me he nearly shot! Other than that, Lawrence has been the same as on the island; quiet, pulled back, and honestly, really freaky. He just makes me… uncomfortable.
Outside of the search patrols, Cpl. Bailey and I have been put together for little assignments. Nothing major. It's just like "Scope out this area" or "Deliver a message to the nearby camp." In this time, I have really gotten to know Cpl. Bailey. Here's what I've learned.
His real name is Charles. He lived in Atlanta his whole life. His wife's name is Lisa. She works with the nearby army camp.
I dismissed every question Cpl. Bailey had about my life. I couldn't answer. One wrong slip, and my entire secret is revealed.
I've been staying up late. Sleep is restless and does no good. The only time I've slept well since I been here was thanks to pure exhaustion.
The Thousand Yard Stare has been haunting me constantly. I try to put the idea out of my head by any means. I write, I read, I even find myself drawing on extra pieces of paper. Sam has caught on to my neurotic behavior.
"Jeez, Pvt. Retriever. When are you going to give it a break? You're just writing constantly," he gave a slight grin to himself.
I said to him, "In a world where a bullet can go through my head at any moment, this journal is like safety."
Seeing my devotion to my writing, Sam backed off. I'm glad he did. Though, he did ask to see a page or two. I had to turn him down, sadly.
There's too much in here that belong to me and me alone.
Sincerely, Retriever
April 3, 1965
I'm not tired. Nope, not tired. I'm not in physical pain thanks to my writing. Who cares that I am forcing my eyes awake to write to you. I don't care that it's 1 A.M. I am not tired…
Crap, I need sleep.
REPORT: I knocked out cold after finishing that sentence last night. I woke up thanks to Connor shaking me wide awake this morning.
"Jeez, man. I thought you were dead for a second," he raised a brow before putting on his glasses. "Come on, we're going outside." I got up from my sleeping bag and buttoned up my military jacket. Grabbing my dog tags and quickly sliding on my boots, Connor and me stepped out of the tent.
We all entered the air base behind our tents for our meal. Being honest, the food is disgusting. I always find myself eating a C-Ration. It's the closest thing I've got to food like back home. Cpl. Bailey sat down next to me.
"Vietnam is taking a toll on ya, eh?" the corporal chuckled. I simply sighed. Yeah, I guess you could say that. I try to remember why I am here. I'm here to serve my country. I am here to carry on a family tradition. I am here for my family and my friends. Well, those who I thought were family and friends. Now, I'm not so sure.
The rest of the day was the same as always. Patrol, searched for enemy soldiers, and try to survive…
Sincerely, Retriever
April 26, 1965
(During this time, I sent a letter home to my family. This is what the letter read.)
To my parents and relatives,
It's been months since I've seen you last. I do not know how long I will be overseas. My world has been flipped upside down ever since I left Richmond.
No worries, I've met many soldiers who fight by my side. Sam is my best friend. I would be willing to join him in any battle. Connor and Lawrence; I both met at Parris Island. Wonderful individuals, I say. Cpl. Bailey and Lt. Howard; my bosses. Everyone I've met; wouldn't change it for the world.
I hope Tom is doing well ever since I left for 'nam. This country is the trophy of Southeast Asia. I haven't gotten to see the city of Da Nang yet. However, one can hope.
I hope to return home completely unharmed. Until we meet again.
Your son,
Mike
(I have yet to get a letter from them. Hopefully, the letter will come soon.)
May 17, 1965
I apologize for the long wait. Nothing interesting happens often. It's usually us just walking, searching, and the occasional gunfight. Luckily, or not, something actually happened.
During one of our searches, the air became VERY humid. This country is just usually extremely warm, but nothing like this before. My face was completely burning up, my cheeks rosy. Jeez, it was hot. I went through the last of my water canteen in that patrol.
Believe me, my face burning up was the least of our problems. Poor Connor looked exhausted. It looked like he was holding his head in pain. I think the heat was giving him a headache. Not only that, but he was also carrying all of the heavy equipment that radio operators carry. Despite red cheeks, the rest of his face looked flushed out. Connor was stumbling, desperate to keep his balance. Lt. Howard turned around and noticed this all.
"Pvt. Nelson, what's going on? This isn't the time for messing around!"
Connor didn't response. After a few shallow breaths, he collapsed to the ground, face first. Realization set in for all of us, and Lt. Howard quickly came to his side.
Sam and Lawrence quickly offered assistance, helping to lift the unconscious Connor from the ground. I had no idea what was happening, but before I could ask, Lt. Howard told us that we were returning to the base, now. On the way back, I asked Cpl. Bailey about it.
"What happened with Connor? Is he just tired?" I was concerned, I had the right to be. Cpl. Bailey shook his head.
"It's worth than that, Pvt. Retriever. He's suffering from a sunstroke. Too much heat, so he passed out."
Yep, my worries were right.
"Well, is he going to be alright?" I noticed that our squad picked up the pace.
"I do not know."
"What do you mean you do not know?"
"What I mean," Cpl. Bailey turned to me. "Is that sunstroke can be fatal. As long as we manage to regulate his body temperature and lower it slow enough to not cause shock, he will be fine. Now get moving."
Cpl. Bailey turned away and kept walking, leaving me to my thoughts. I simply sighed and kept on walking. I had to.
We got back to the base about ten minutes later. Lt. Howard instantly took Connor to the medical area. Explaining what happened, the medic nodded and helped him inside. Sam, Lawrence and I all watched on from the distance.
"Welp, looks like he'll be out of service for a while," Sam joked. He received a well deserved punch in the shoulder.
"Do you think he'll die?" Lawrence asked, lowering his voice so nobody could hear us. I shook my head.
"Connor is way above dying of sunstroke of all things! He'll be fine!" A forced a grin on my face. Yeah, it was not fun, I did it anyway. "We have to think better about this situation, guys! Think of it; when Connor gets better, this will be an awesome story for him to tell!"
Sam nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Retriever's right. Connor will be just fine."
The brief moment of silence allowed Cpl. Bailey to call us back over to our platoon. As I joined the other members of our team, I had one amazing thought.
Well, this incident might give him a cool nickname!
Retriever
(I ain't writing sincerely. My name is just easier)
June 1, 1965
I've got way too much news.
First things first; Connor's alive. Yep, he's fine. After being bedridden for three days thanks to the stroke, he was able to walk again. It took another week before he joined us again on our patrols. But yeah, he's fine.
On top of that, we've all been earning these "nicknames." Connor has been called 'Sunstroke' thanks to the sunstroke he had last month. He likes the name, actually.
On his fireteam, Sam is in charge of the submachine gun. The man can bring hell to Charlies. His latest bombardment had given him the nickname 'Barrage.'
I once again proved my name as Retriever. During a firefight near a Vietnamese village, I saw tons of the innocent men and women (and kids) run from the village. After seeing a child fall from the gunfire, I sprinted as fast as I could over to him. Under the protection of my squadmates, I helped the kid up and carried him to his family. When he was pulled into his mother's arms, I grabbed my M14 and charged back into the fight. Apparently, my tracking is what gives me my nickname as well.
Lawrence, however, earned his nickname the exact opposite way. He didn't save tons of lives; he took them.
On May 26, we encountered Viet Cong guerillas who had our squad surrounded. In the fight, two of our squadmates were shot. Our fireteam medic, along with another medic, carried them out of the line of fire while the battle carried on.
Sam managed to kill one or two soldiers. I had my first ever confirmed kill in that battle! Connor, who was protecting the medics helping soldiers, killed possible two . Lawrence, on the other hand, wiped the floor with their arses.
We don't know how many Lawrence killed, but I do know is that it was a bunch. Bodies were scattered across the jungle floor, blood smeared across his face. It was gross, but amazing. It was a massacre, beyond words. From that moment forward, we called him "Bloodbath." It fits him.
Lawrence doesn't talk much, but that's okay. I know the island turned him into this. Despite all of that, he's still my friend. Not just him, but Sam and Connor too. All of us together. We're just brothers fighting for liberty. My whole squad is-
Liberty Brothers. That sounds like a good squad name, don't you think?
Retriever
June 25, 1965
It's my birthday.
Nobody knows that, of course. I lied about my age to get in! But now, I am officially an adult! I have to bite my tongue and not tell anyone. Nobody wants a kid to spend their birthday nearly dying!
Well, Cpl. Bailey tried to figure it out. He knew something was up. He has this, thing, where he reads people very easily. So, Cpl. Bailey asked me.
"Something up, Retriever? You seem more restless than usual."
"Ah, not a thing, Corporal. I think I'm just tired."
He looked over at me suspiciously, but didn't say anything else.
I've been very busy lately, so I do not believe I can write to you as often anymore. I'll try to write at least once a month.
Retriever
July 17, 1965
Here is my monthly report:
Lawrence was nearly shot during a patrol last week. I swear, there must be some sniper around here hunting marines down. Well, crap happens.
For a few days every month, we get what they call "R and R." Basically, we relax for a few days at some hidden camp. There, we drink, play cards, and sleep. It's sort of nice to get away from the gunfire, bood, and death every once in a while. I met a lady there while on break. She came in, drinks in hand. I barely took a sip before throwing my drink out. I haven't tried alcohol before, and now I see why. It tastes purely awful!
I decided to strike up a conversation with the girl when she was finished. Her name was Sarah, and she was there with the Red Cross. We talked for a while, don't know how long. Eventually, some older fellows called her over and she had to leave.
I ran into Katie once again. I wonder why it keeps happening. She was at the base taking photos for whatever company she works for. I noticed that she tends to bite her lower lip when focusing on a photo.
It's hard to describe Katie; she's tall, light brown hair, and wears glasses. Actually, she's a very nice woman. I can tell she's friendly with everyone.
Other than the drinks, we talk and sometimes watch live shows. There were all these girl performers breaking these fellas' hearts (not literally.) Cpl. Bailey really likes the breaks. He says that they, "give him the chance to grow closer with his fellow marines."
Well, that is all I have this month for the month. I'll write to you when I get the chance.
Retriever
(P.S. I actually brought up the idea of The Liberty Brothers to my squad. Now that's what we're being called!)
August 20, 1965
Katie approached me last week. She asked if The Liberty Brothers would come with her to Da Nang to be interviewed. Being honest, I was very excited about that! Lt. Howard, on the other hand, was not as excited. He told Katie, "My recruits have more important things to do than talk to cameras!" As a matter of fact, he seemed pretty upset about it.
I mustered up the courage to talk to Lt. Howard in private. He's just like how he is in public, honestly. He told me about his daughter, who's a nurse in the army. A nurse in the army, huh? Sounded a little… familiar to me. It all clicked when I asked her name. Her name?
"Lisa."
Cpl. Bailey's wife is Lt. Howard's daughter! It doesn't make sense, but it does! I'm shocked!
Welp, that just happened! I don't know what else to say!
Retriever
September 12, 1965
Guess who's been promoted! After six months in the field, I am no longer a Private. Not just me; anyone in my platoon was promoted. Instead of being a Private, I am a Private First Class (What we call a PFC) Also, I'm being paid more now! That means more money for killing Charlies!
Cpl. Bailey congratulated me after the promotion! He said that I'm growing rapidly in my skill as a marine. I guess that could be true, I say that I'm a very good soldier. But, the people I've killed, I remember each of their faces. Something about them was… awful. Before Vietnam, the idea of killing another human had never crossed my mind. Am I feeling guilty?
No, I mustn't. They aren't human, they're simply the enemy.
Are they?
Retriever
October 7, 1965
There was a gunfight near the Latrine today. It was absolutely awful. We woke up to the sound of gunfire this morning. In the panic, I grabbed my rifle and my helmet. Running out into the fire, guns were blazing. The sound of the rifles sniping marines down, one by one; it's horrifying.
Cpl. Bailey ordered me over to cover. I slid down behind the tent by his side. Lt. Howard was there too. As they argued over our next plan, I watched the battle go on.
I saw Barrage, blood smeared across his face like paint. He stood victorious in the gunfire. His machine gun fired through the trees, killing countless Viet Cong soldiers. I saw Connor, demanding reinforcements over the phone. The sight was horrid. I saw Lawrence, strangling a man to death with his own hands. He took the knife from his belt and stabbed the soldier in the throat. Lawrence licked the blood from the knife and saw me. Dear God, I wanted to vomit.
I heard Lt. Howard command me to charge, so I did. Cpl. Bailey and I ran into the fire, guns blazing. A bullet went right through one of those Charlie's eyes. I saw the men flee to the tree line, screaming in a language I did not know. Sweat dripped down my face, and my vision was blurry. I couldn't see what was going on for a few minutes. All I knew was that I had to kill. The last of the Viet Cong ran off, leaving the surviving marines alone.
It was an utter genocide. I saw countless bodies scattered across the camp. Medics from every platoon and every squad helped count the dead. 24 men dead, and another 14 injured, including Sam.
Sam had been stabbed in the leg. Luckily, no major veins or arteries had been hit. I find it strange; the men in The Liberty Brothers keep finding themselves in a deadly situation, yet turn out fine. I bet Lawrence is going to be next. Maybe Cpl. Bailey?
No, Cpl. Bailey is too strong for that. He's one of the best guys I know. I'm proud to have him controlling our squad. He's a good man. The whole squad is.
I won't let anything separate The Liberty Brothers. Not even death.
Retriever
December 16, 1965
This is likely my last journal entry of the year. It's been over a year since I joined the marines. It's been a bumpy ride, honestly. Now that this is 1965's last entry, I should look back on all that has happened in the year.
I met three of my best friends. Sam, Connor, and Lawrence. They are amazing men. I wouldn't exchange them for the world.
I met Lt. Howard and Cpl. Bailey. Cpl. Bailey is so friendly to everyone. He's like my father, only younger. Lt. Howard must be proud his daughter married a man like Bailey. I wonder if I'll ever meet her one day.
Katie Roberts the photojournalist. I ran into her in Da Nang while I had some time off. Dear God, she's great. She's friendly, intuitive, and creative. I hope she never gives up that side of her.
I miss my family, too. Mother sent me a letter last week. The letter read:
To my youngest son, Mike,
It's been a year since we had seen you. Tom misses you dearly. Father and I do too. I sincerely hope that nothing terrible has happened to you in Vietnam. I wish you the best of luck.
Your mother,
Ruth Gray
(P.S. I think you need to see this photo)
I opened up the rest of the letter and watched a photograph fall out. Carefully, I picked it up from the floor. What I saw was almost breathtaking.
It was my parents. Not now, but when they were like me; young, bright eyed, and not a care in the world. My father was in the sailor outfit he wore back in the navy. My mother, she was wearing a uniform that I recognized. A navy nurse corp uniform. Suddenly, everything made sense.
My mother was like me; a female military personnel. Maybe this is why she hated the idea of me going off to war. Maybe she knows something I don't…
No, what am I saying? I love my mother, but she isn't always right.
Well, this is my send off for you, 1965. I will see you next year, my dear journal.
Retriever
January 12, 1966
Hello, 1966. Since the new year, I have some very exciting news!
The Liberty Brothers are going on an operation. It's a whole special operation. You probably do not understand, you're a journal. So, allow me to explain.
Thanks to some lucky information being spilt, our battalion has gained some very important personnel. The Viet Cong nearby here plan to attack an American army camp in an attempt to weaken our defenses. If they manage to wipe out that camp, all that would be left is us! So, our regiment's captain is trusting not just our platoon, but The Liberty Brothers specifically on this operation. The guys and I call it Operation Information. We are tasked with making it through heavily defended Vietnamese territory and bring soldiers and the information to the army camp before the attack is launched. The captain said that Lt. Howard has four weeks to prepare us for the operation, starting today! Once a week, I will write to tell you about our plans! For now, I can tell that this will be super easy!
Retriever
January 19, 1966
We are one week into preparation. So far, we've covered the basics. You know, running through jungle, close quarters combat, not dying. It's the crap we all learned on Parris Island. We have barely touched our rifles that week.
Our squad isn't on patrol due to the fact that we are preparing for the mission. This also means that we will have little risk of injury in the weeks leading up to the battle.
I asked Lawrence what he thinks of the mission. He refused to answer. Keeping up the… stoic persona. He simply got up and left. It hasn't been the same with him since we left the island, honestly. I wish the old Lawrence was back.
I decided to talk to Connor instead. Unlike Lawrence, Connor actually is worried. I asked him why. I didn't anticipate the answer he had.
"Back on Parris Island, I was told that my job as a radio operator was the most dangerous. As a matter of fact, in a gunfight, my life expectancy is six seconds," he shuddered in fear of that idea. A chill went down my spine as he spoke. I didn't know what to say. So, I simple patted him on the shoulder and said, "we'll be alright. I promise."
Sam was busy, so I talked to Bailey. Out of all of them, he is the most enthusiastic about the mission. He said to me, "It's the first ever real mission I'm getting!" Seeing a smile on his face calmed my nerves. However, something about what he said was offsetting.
He told me that Lisa [his wife] is at one of the camps that they must defend. Cpl. Bailey demanded that we make sure that not only does he get to see her, but they must make sure that she is safe. This serious demeanor was new for the corporal. When he walked away, I called, "How far are you willing to go to protect her?"
Cpl. Bailey turned back.
"I am willing to die."
As he left me alone to my thoughts, I had that question too. How far am I willing to go?
Retriever
January 26, 1966
Week Two: We've gotten a hold of our guns. Lt. Howard wants us in top performance when we complete this operation. He re-teaches us every last part of the gun. The lieutenant makes sure that we almost never miss. No, not almost never miss. He makes sure that we never miss!
I've been sleeping with the rifle by my side, too. My anxiety is so high, that without my gun, I am in danger. I do have many good friends, but there are only two major things out there that I truly love.
My gun and my journal.
Retriever
February 9, 1966
Today is our final day of training. Last week, we were given quick basics of dealing with wounds and bandaging. This week, we sharpened every last skill we needed. I feel the blood rushing through my veins. I can see myself already; I'm on the battlefield, countless of my allies by my side. We are shooting Charlies down one by one, until every last one of them is dead. I can see it now; all of us making it back safe. We celebrate and drink, and I am rewarded for my bravery. I can see it all now. It's great. I know we can make it! I trust The Liberty Brothers, and knowing us, nothing will change for the worst! Until we meet again, journal. Tomorrow, we change for the better!
Retriever
February 15, 1966
Everything has changed for the worst. Every last single thing that could go wrong did go wrong. I don't even know where to begin… I guess I will start from February 10th.
We left the early hours of the morning. The sun had yet to come up, and we were all exhausted. However, our legs marched forwards into the jungle. Throughout the day, the sun rose high into the sky, beating down on us. We fought through. Holy crap, it was painful. There was a river with no bridge. One by one, we helped one another across. From there on, it was just marching and preparing for the worst. However, nothing could prepare me for what we were about to experience…
In the evening, it seemed like we had almost made it to the camp! Everything was perfect. Everything fit into place.
Until the gunshots rang out.
Bullets fired through the trees, sending chaos and panic into our platoon. Lt. Howard yanked me downward into a bush for cover. Grabbing my rifle off my back, I started to fire back. Realizing the only option we had left, Lt. Howard demanded that we charge into close quarters. So we did.
I remember dodging the slices of Viet Cong knives. I grabbed my m7 bayonet knife and sliced the throat of a Charlie. The blood dripped from his neck as he collapsed to the jungle floor. But, I kept on fighting.
One by one, our platoon tried to fight off the Charlies. I don't remember much. The one thing I do remember was an enemy soldier grabbing me by the throat and diving into the bushes, taking me with them.
In the chaos, I couldn't see the attacker. I took my knife and tried my best to fight back. However, the attacker pushed me off and stole my weapon from me. It was then when I came face to face with my possible death.
It was a teenage girl. She looked no older than sixteen. I wanted to fight, I wanted to attack, but I couldn't. I simple struggled against the girl. Admittedly, I was about to believe I was successful, until…
The Viet Cong girl used my knife against me and struck me in the eye.
I couldn't see. I grabbed my face in complete pain and terror. What was happening? Why did this hurt? Was I going to die?
Suddenly, I felt the girl land a sharp kick to my side. In the chaos, I was sent tumbling down the side of a hill to the area below. The last memory I have before blacking out was my head striking the jungle floor.
I have no idea how long I was out for. All I know was that it was too long. After almost ten minutes of just struggling to open my eyes, I finally snapped awake. Every memory came flooding back suddenly, and I remembered what happened.
Fighting through the pain, I forced myself off the jungle floor. I remembered which way our group was heading, so I followed that direction. I do not remember how long I walked for. I struggled to keep my eyes open in the dead hours of the morning. The sun slowly rose, but I still didn't find the camp. What snapped me awake was the sound of a man screaming. More gunfire rang out and I fell straight back into reality. Using every last bit of strength I had, I ran. I ran so hard, harder than I ever had in my life. I stopped by the edge of the treeline to see what horrors awaited me. What I saw was terrible.
We were too late. The camp had been attacked. Vietnamese soldiers were everywhere. I saw them killing Americans and taking others away. I knew I had to do something, anything! I cocked my gun and ran into battle, screaming. Shots were fired as I saw countless bodies fall. It was an absolute nightmare. After what seemed like an eternity of firing my gun, every last bullet was fired. My gun was suddenly useless.
I dropped the rifle to the floor, looking around me. The bodies of both Vietnamese and Americans laid all around me. I heard a voice call out.
"MIKE! DUDE WHAT HAPPENED?!"
It was Sam! I turned to the sound of his voice, only to see horror. He was being dragged away by Viet Cong soldiers. It wasn't just him, but Connor and Lawrence, and Lt. Howard! The last thing I heard him say before being dragged into the treeline was, "Man, this was a letdown!"
Grabbing my gun and a few spare bullets, I ran towards the treeline, desperate to save my allies. I knew I had to save them!
"STOP, KID!" A voice came out from behind me.
In fear, I turned to find the source of the voice. Quickly, I saw her. It was a woman. A nurse maybe? She was short, with curly hair and a dark complexion. Her hand was out, as if to signal me to stop. Slowly, the woman approached me.
"You'll be killed if you go into that jungle, private," her voice was stern and serious. "Are you hurt in any way?"
"What? N-no!" In the adrenaline of the fight, almost all of my pain was gone. She simple nodded and dragged me to a tent.
"Sit."
Sitting down inside the tent, she left once again. This time, I heard another voice outside, that of a man.
"Dead, Sgt. Bailey. Everyone is dead."
Sgt. Bailey? Could it be? This was none other than the Lisa Bailey! Oh, Cpl. Bailey needed to see his wife!
"You're Lisa Bailey?!" I exclaimed as I emerged from the tent. The man, who had a war dog with him, turned over to me in surprise. He quickly calmed the dog, showing that I was no threat. Lisa looked over at me, slightly confused that I know who she is. So, I explained.
"I work under your husband, Cpl. Charles Bailey! I know he's gotta be here!"
The man with us, who looked like a Southern Vietnamese soldier, nodded. "I saw a man who looks like the corporal. He was around here somewhere-"
I cut him off and grabbed Lisa by the arm. Quickly, I ran around the camp, calling out to the corporal. After minutes of pure calling, I got a response!
"Pvt. Retriever…"
It was coming from behind a tent! I was so excited! Dashing around the side of that tent, I was nearly yelling, "Cpl. Bailey! I found your wife! She's here, she's really here-"
The sight was horrid.
Cpl. Bailey's body was on the ground, blood spilling from a gunshot wound to the stomach. Lisa gasped in horror at the sight and jumped straight to her husband's side. I joined by her side, trying to keep his head off the ground.
"Charles! You stay with me, love! I know you can't die!" Desperately, the nurse tried to cover up his wounds. But, with a lack of bandages, it was futile. "How did this happen?!"
Cpl. Bailey explained everything. He said that Sam was about to be shot. However, he jumped in the way to say the P.F.C. Bleeding out, he crawled behind a tent and tried to tend to his wound, to no avail.
Gently, Cpl. Bailey cupped his hand against his wife's cheek. A smile formed on his face, blood spilling from his mouth.
"My dear Lisa, do not cry. I promise we will meet in our next life." Then he turned to me. "Mike, please take care of my wife. She deserves the world… please… thank you... "
Cpl. Bailey went limp in our arms.
Lisa cradled her dead husband's body in her arms, fighting back a world of pain. I simple stood up from the site and left. The Vietnamese man said nothing as I passed him into the open field. The shock was too much to believe. There was no way that Cpl. Bailey was… dead.
I stared at the bodies all around me. I stared at the sun. I stared at the treeline. I touched the wound that ran up and down my left eye. I knew it was going to scar, but at that point, I did not care. I allowed myself to cry. Everything hurt, I needed to let it all out. I needed to help the few survivors there were. But most importantly;
I need to save my friends.
Lisa came out from behind the tent, biting her lip. I noticed that her outfit had changed slightly. I didn't know why until I realized something. She had stolen Cpl. Bailey's body armor for herself. She bore his helmet, his belt, his weapons, even his dog tags. She spoke to the man and I, addressing him by what I assume is his name.
"Chi, Mike, we must get out of here."
Chi nodded in agreement. However, that was not about to work for me.
"No! We have to save my squad! I let them all down!" I stood my ground against Lisa, who's face showed pure anger. "That way, I save my friends and you avenge your husband."
Lisa slightly cocked her head. "Do you have any idea where they may be?"
Chi spoke up for me. "I believe there is a POW camp down at the Da Nang Bay." I looked over at him. I didn't know that at all. Quickly, I looked back over to Lisa. She simple smirked and cocked her rifle. "Then that is where we are heading. Fellas, we leave for Da Nang Bay in three days! Now we gotta clean up these bodies."
The nurse- no, a better term for her is combat medic. The combat medic looked down. "And we must wipe the memory of this place." I knew what she meant by that. She told me to rest before she checks my wound for any affections. I nodded with a simple, "Yes ma'am." Before heading back towards the medical tent.
Lisa came in and checked my stab wound for any infection risks. To my luck, there was none.
"You're a lucky kid, Private…"
"Call me Retriever."
"Ok. Pvt. Retriever, it's good to say that there is no infection. However this wound is going to leave a pretty nasty scar." Lisa simply nodded to me before leaving the tent. I knew she was upset. Not at me, but at the world. At the people who had done her wrong. But now, we both will get our revenge. Now, I simply rest and wait for the third day to come. I have to save them. I know I will save them. For my friends, for my country.
Retriever
(P.S. I like the idea of having a scar!)
February 18, 1966
I woke up today, excited as hell. Today was the day! We save my allies and kill anyone who wronged us! I nearly sprang out of my sleeping back, throwing on my military clothing and my dog tags. I grabbed my gun and my helmet. Sprinting out of my tent, I saw Chi and Lisa, along with that military dog. (I asked what the dog's name was. His name is Camouflage!!!) The two turned over to me, grinning. I skidded to a stop in front of the two other soldiers. "Okay, so do we just leave now or do we eat?" I gripped my fists. I was extremely hungry, and I can't fight on an empty stomach. Lisa laughed after I asked.
"Of course, kid! I know that none of can fight hungry!" Her smile quickly faded, going back to her serious demeanor. "I've got three rations in my bag, one for each of us."
Taking out three small packets, we each got one. I didn't really care what was in mine, I just wanted to eat!
Camouflage got a little bit of meat from my C-Ration. He's gotta be in top shape as well. While we sat down and ate on the ground, Chi asked me a question.
"So, who makes up your squad exactly?"
I was surprised at such a question. "Why, we're The Liberty Brothers! 9th Marines' greatest! Now that you're friends with me, you're Liberty Brothers too!" Chi chuckled at my response. Finally, we finished our meals and left the rations on the ground. They didn't matter.
"Okay, soldiers. Let's do this. It's go time!" Lisa lead the journey into the treeline. Chi and I followed close behind. I felt my heart pumping out of my chest. I couldn't believe it! Today was the day I make history!
It felt like we walked for hours. My excitement grew larger and larger with every passing second. Finally, something caught my eye. "Look, fellas!" I whispered loud enough so Lisa and Chi could hear.
It looked like a prison. Viet Cong surrounded the camp. Lisa and Chi glanced over at each other. "What do we do now, sergeant?" I heard Chi ask. Lisa didn't speak as she aimed her gun right to the head of a soldier. Before Chi and I could stop her, it was too late.
The bullet dug into the man's head, killing him on the spot. Groups of soldiers aimed their guns and fired towards the treeline. I ducked behind a rock with Lisa by my side. Chi and Camouflage we're behind a tree. The dog was barking intensely, alerting the soldiers that we were there. My thoughts ran a million miles an hour. My disguise, why I'm here, my friends, everyone I love, everyone I've lost. It's all down to this moment.
In that moment, I cracked.
Loading my rifle, I ran straight into the gunfire. I was screaming and laughing as I ran down the hillside straight towards the camp. Lisa and Chi, along with Camouflage, quickly joined my side. They fired their guns as well, taking out tons of Charlies. Camouflage tackled a man to the ground, biting deep into his leg. The soldiers kept firing, but I lost every reason to care. If I am to die in this war, I will die in the greatest way possible! In my fit of madness, I forgot everything that happened from that point on.
The next thing I knew, the bullets stopped. Gaining consciousness, I turned back to face Lisa and Chi. Blood was smeared on our clothes and our faces. We wore it like war paint. Every Viet Cong Soldier was dead. Finally, we were at the entrance.
I opened the doors to allow light into the small area. I saw Sam, and Connor, and everyone else in my platoon. They were beaten up, tied, battered and bruised. I said nothing as I approached the prisoners. Sam glanced up to see me.
"Retriever! You're actually here!" I grinned at my best pal as the three of us untied the entire platoon. In the joy, Sam, Connor, and Lawrence pulled me into a hug. Looking over, I saw Lisa and Lt. Howard make eye contact.
"Dad?!" Tears swelled in Lisa's eyes as she ran into her father's arms. They held each other tightly, sharing a special moment between them.
But these moments didn't last.
A bullet struck the side of the wall. Quickly ducking out of the way, I turned to see the shooter. I couldn't believe it! It was the same girl who stabbed me in the eye!
"Leave it to me, fellas!" I exclaimed as I ran up the stairs to where she hid. The girl took off running and I took chase. Eventually, I cornered her in the corner of the prison. The frightened teenager aimed her gun right at my face and fired. My breath stopped in that very moment.
However, her gun jammed! Realizing what has happened, I was able to tackle the young girl and take control of the situation. With the teen submitted, I was able to bring her back to the platoon. When Chi saw her face, it looked like he was in pure shock.
"Yen Thai Kim?! She's wanted all over South Vietnam!" My eyes widened at this statement. Who knew that I had fought a national criminal? Chi took Kim from me and kept her hands behind her back. "Well, I know that she's going to be locked away for a long time! Come on, we take her back to camp and clean up."
To make that long story short, we returned to camp quickly. I informed everyone about Cpl Bailey's death. They were as devastated as I was. However, we all knew that his life won't be forgotten. As long as Lisa is around to keep the Bailey legacy alive.
As for Kim? Well, let me say that she is now spending life in a South Vietnamese prison. Sucks for her as a sixteen year old girl.
Welp, you can tell that my day was highly eventful. Now, I close out this entry, my journal. I will write again soon.
Retriever
March 12, 1966
March 8th was our platoon's last day in Vietnam. On that day, I remember hugging every one of my friends tight. I promised that I would never forget them, and they said they'd never forget me. I told Lisa that I'd keep her husband in my prayers. Lt. Howard said that if Cpl. Bailey were alive, he'd be proud of me. That day, our platoon got on the plane and headed for San Diego.
This morning, I finally was able to drive back to Richmond. My family had no idea I was coming home. It was a great day. I pulled up to the front of my house, in my full military uniform. Carefully, I knocked on the door. After a minute, I saw my mother open the door. Her face went from shock to joy. She cried tears of happiness as she pulled me in for a hug.
"Ginny! Oh Ginny you're home!" She cried. She apologized for everything she did to me, and I did the same. My father was also in tears when he saw his daughter. Tom, however, had the best reaction of all. When he saw me, Tom said nothing. He simply ran at me and pulled me into the tightest hug ever! I was finally home! We all cried on the floor of the home I grew up in. I was happy to be alive.
Now, to my dear journal, I leave my story at that. It's a tale of sacrifice and love. I hope in the future, someone may read my story and carry on my legacy! Until then!
Sincerely,
Ginny, Mike, and Retriever