Red Snow. Sean Ryan Stuart

or Vietnam.

      In his dream, he slowly regained consciousness, and began sobbing uncontrollably. The finality of his position gripped his heart, and he felt vulnerable and afraid. Yet, his subconscious kept sending out disjointed “Frag-Orders,” such as “don’t give in, keep it up,” repetition, SURVIVAL! Jeremy jerked his head up and began shouting silent screams.

       Vietnam

       Valiant are the few who fought and died,

       Vanquished are the masses who fled and lied,

       Victims are the mothers who stayed and cried,

       Vanished are the many to whom we said good-bye,

       Victory belongs to those who cared and tried,

       Valor was common, but they still all died,

       Vermin are those who crawled and cringed,

       Verify, they cried! But, they never lied?

       Vengeance some cried, but others were pacified,

       Verdict we demanded, but now they are elected,

       Vietnam, Vietminh, Vietcong, are still all wrong,

       Valiant are the few who fought and died,

       Victorious are we who cared and tried.

      Jeremy’s current dream had, in fact, been a dream within a night-mare and he was back in Vietnam. His confused thoughts drifted between Vietnam and Afghanistan. Jeremy’s subconscious had taken over and he was back in his cell in Vietnam.

      His hysterical outburst caught the prison guards by surprise, and they came running over to investigate. They had never seen the crazy American act in this fashion, and they were shocked by his screaming and ranting. The only word they could understand was Vietnam. He kept repeating these words over and over and over. They laughed at him and thought he had finally gone off the deep end. Jeremy continued in this manner for hours; until his voice finally gave out.

      At times he too doubted his sanity. Pictures of Fort Bragg, ‘DG,’ San Francisco kept flashing in front of his eyes. These kaleidoscopic visions only seemed to confuse him. After a while, he then just sat in the corner of his cell, and whispered his poem over and over and over. His desperate outburst had somehow calmed him down. These desperate mental attempts at escape were possibly indicative of his current situation in Afghanistan. His vivid dream continued, and he now began recalling his escape from Vietnam.

      Grant had patiently waited for his chance to escape. Early one morning, God granted him his wish, and the area erupted in a mass of flames and thunder. The entire horizon exploded into a mass of shaking, quivering earth. Mounds of earth, trees, bodies and huts were violently flung in the air. Jeremy had been sleeping, and he awoke believing he had died and was now on the threshold of hell. He was blinded by the intense heat, smoke and concussions of the explosions. He had no way of knowing that his camp had been targeted by highflying B-52 bombers. Each bomber carried up to seventy-thousand pounds of HE (High Explosive) bombs; destined to liberate or kill him. It seemed like the bombing lasted for hours, but in fact had only been for approximately nine minutes. These high-flying bombers had come all the way from either Udapao, Thailand or Guam. The first and second wave of B-52s had wiped out the entire camp and eight square miles of stinking Vietnam jungle. Human remains were scattered around gaping mounds of earth, up to fifty feet deep and one hundred feet across. The entire area was covered with a thick veil of smoke and many trees were still burning. Heavily forested jungles were turned into a burning inferno. The whole area took on a lunar-like landscape. The violence and suddenness of the attack had caught the VC by surprise. Even the survivors were so shocked by the attack that they aimlessly wandered throughout the area, not knowing what had happened.

      They were still licking their wounds when Grant managed to escape. The entire camp, along with its supporting bunkers, tunnels and buildings, was completely destroyed. Jeremy was slowly able to regain his sanity and analyzed his situation. The walls to his cage were completely blown away and the devastation was complete. Jeremy knew that he would need a few things if he expected to survive in the jungle. He glanced around and saw that the kitchen hut was on fire, but still standing. Jeremy ran over and poked around the ashes. He was able to find a partially cooked piglet, some rice and two canteens of water. Eureka! he thought, I’ll be able to last two weeks with all this food. His thoughts now drifted to searching for a weapon. None was around, but he spotted an old machete lying under a burning mound of earth a few feet away. Jeremy walked over and started to pull on the machete, only to realize that the burning mound of earth had once been a human being. Jeremy gingerly removed the machete from the burning corpse and ran toward the nearest jungle. On his way out of the camp, Grant spotted Major Dong staggering around, half covered in dirt and completely dazed. Grant walked up to Dong,

      “We meet again, Major Dong,” Jeremy shouted.

      His hearing gone and severely stunned, the little major looked up slowly and tried to focus his eyes on the giant standing over him. Jeremy glanced down at the once feared little major and laughed. The flames had completely burned away most of his clothes and Jeremy saw the evidence of Major Dong’s hatred for the French Foreign Legion. His manhood had been severed, and in its place a small scarred stump remained. Jeremy felt no compassion or mercy for this little snake, because he knew that Major Dong was capable of similar acts. In fact, the little major had performed them on many of his colleagues, and unlucky Legionnaires.

      “Who are you? Speak up, I can’t hear you!” shouted Dong.

      “It doesn’t really matter, you worm, I am going to slowly squeeze the life out of you,” whispered Grant.

      Grant leaned over Dong, reached out and with his right arm, gradually squeezed Dong’s scrawny throat until all signs of life wheezed out of his lungs. Grant had gotten his wish, he had managed to kill Major Dong with his one good hand, and had been thrilled at the sight of the little worm gasping for breath. Jeremy also took this opportunity to take Major Dong’s AK-47 assault-rifle, ammo pouches and another canteen. Grant knew that his chances for survival were almost non-existent, but he was convinced that he would rather die in the jungle than in that stinking POW camp. Jeremy left the area as soon as possible and headed in a southeasterly direction. He realized his only hope for survival was to travel at night and lie low during daylight hours. However, today he had to put as much distance between the camp and himself as possible. Jeremy was positive it would take them at least two hours before they realized he was gone, or had any resources to send after him. This was his only advantage and he was determined to get away. Jeremy found a small stream and followed it southward for about two hours. He then felt confident enough to travel inland and resume his southeasterly course. Darkness was slowly beginning to fall and Jeremy knew that he had to find a spot away from prying eyes. He continued down a well-worn trail, figuring his signs would blend in with the many others tracks, until he found an ideal hiding spot. Before him, loomed a giant tree; its roots and base were at least twenty feet in diameter. It was leaning against a large rocky outcropping which was part of a very steep hill. Halfway up the tree, about fifty feet above ground level, there appeared to be a small opening in the hillside. It was only accessible from the tree and it was barely visible, unless one stood directly under the tree and looked up in that direction. Grant gathered his belongings into a bundle, slung them over his back and did his best imitation of Cheetah, the movie chimpanzee.

      The large tree had many handholds and small hanging vines. Jeremy was able to climb up the tree with relative ease until he reached the cave entrance level. The opening appeared to be large enough for a man, but not much else. Jeremy crawled across a branch and pushed aside some heavy brush and wriggled his way into the cave. Well actually, “cave” was a misnomer, hole would be more appropriate. Grant immediately noticed a rather strong odor emanating from the hole. If he didn’t know any better, he could have