Nathan+Smith



What a Mess We'll Make

We’re together in the rhythm of our hearts True to you and forever faithful in my part And our hearts, they sing the way I think, so in the atrium I’ll lie Resounding eternally, the legend of you and I

They didn’t come where we were running from But god, my heart was telling me to run We had to go, get out, take a chance and leave For no reason at all, except the need to breathe

Because you and I both are nothing but thieves Taking what we want but only when we need The feeling of freedom, nothing can compare We made it on our own, creating who we are

Sonnet 81

Should I compare you to a winter’s day? You are without doubt more cold and biting My high spirits you hope will soon decay Your void of warmth remains non-delighting

Sometimes the sun shines through your bleak façade But you will end hope of seasons to come Your shallow depths do prove the lack of God My heart of confidence, your cold makes numb

Yet selfish frost will not linger long here Your cold grasp will not remain hold on me Infectious ice will melt, unwelcome here No more am I lost and oppressed by thee

For winter season, of hell it is from So I leave it now, embracing the sun

Escape

I suddenly awoke to the sound of shouting from Vietnamese soldiers. I looked up and saw them kicking and prodding the bodies of American troops. My heart began to race: I looked around to see if I could recognize any of the bodies. I couldn’t see Parker, Mitch, or anyone from my platoon. Good, that means that they got out of here alive. The last thing that I remember was being ambushed by what seemed like hundreds of them. Myself, along with at least two other platoons were walking through the jungle, completely unaware of the surrounding troops. As soon as I was aware of their presence, I was firing my gun nonstop. A soldier standing next to me was shot through the leg, and I knelt down and carried him to safety. I returned to the fight as soon as I could, I was returning fire at the enemy, and looking back, checking on my companions simultaneously. All I could do was fight and pray that all of us would make it out of this alive. Soon after, however, I was unable to do even that, because the last thing I remember was the blast of a mortar strike, and then nothing. I had been knocked out cold. Now, here I was, lying on the ground trying not to alert the enemy to my position. They were getting closer. I looked around at my surroundings looking for something to hide under, or a clear passage that would allow me to escape unnoticed. I was lying on the banks of what I assumed to be a branch of the Mekong River. They were only a few yards away now, I had to act. Sliding my body closer and closer to the flowing water, I tried to make as little sound as possible. They were just a few steps away now, if they were to turn around, they were surely going to see me. I shifted my weight and threw myself into the murky, slimy water. I knew they would’ve heard the splash, so I stayed under as long as I could, floating along with the river’s current. Once I could no longer hold my breath, I breached the surface, gasping for air. I looked around frantically, checking for signs of any Vietnamese soldiers. I appeared to be in the clear, but I decided to swim further downstream to put a greater distance between me and the enemy. I swam for about forty-five minutes, constantly on the lookout for danger. It would be getting dark soon, so I climbed onto the river bank, and after thinking very carefully about it, started a fire. I thought hard about the situation and my training, in hopes of coming up with a plan of escape. My platoon had just completed our mission and was headed to our extraction point when we were attacked. We were to meet the chopper there tomorrow night. I wondered if my comrades were on their way there, or if they had been taken by the ambush. I pulled the map from my jacket pocket. The extraction point was fifteen miles south of where we were ambushed. I estimated that I had followed the river for no more than a mile, so I couldn’t be any farther from the extraction point than I was before. It was decided: I was going to be at that extraction when the chopper got there, it was my only way out of this horrible jungle. After pondering my plan for several minutes, I suddenly remembered what I had stashed in my backpack. I reached in and pulled out a small plastic bag that contained enough heroin for one use. I was glad that I had found it in there, because even though it seemed like a bad idea to use it now, I longed for the comfort it gave, even if it was false comfort. I had successfully quit using once I joined the Army, and I was proud of myself. The second they shipped me out here to this god-forsaken jungle, I immediately started again. The stuff was so easy to come by on the military base it made staying clean next to impossible. Just as I began to open the baggie, shouting followed by gunfire shattered the silence. I dropped the heroin, and dove beneath the foliage. I quickly felt around for my back pack, and put it on my back so I could be ready to run at any second. There was a break in the fire, and without hesitation I jumped to my feet and ran as fast as I could, seeking the cover of thick trees or anything else that would come between me and the bullets. I kept running, until the sound of their shout became faint and the gunfire more scarce. I was lucky to be alive; running was only going to work for so long. I remembered what I had learned no more than six months ago in boot camp, and my brain suddenly kicked into offense. I stood completely still, waiting behind the thickest tree I could find. The enemy drew nearer, and I adjusted my position so that I would be within reach of the soldier on the end of the line. The waiting seemed to take forever, I wondered several times if they were still after me at all. Just as all of my attention was focused on my own breath and steady heartbeat I heard footsteps just on the other side of the tree. Fortunately for me, the soldier that was closest to me had fallen behind slightly, giving me the upper hand. Just as he walked past the tree I put one hand over his mouth, and wrapped my other arms tightly around his neck. I clamped down harder than I’d ever thought I could, until his legs stopped kicking, and even for a while after that. Laying him down in the grass as softly as I could, I took his M14, all of his ammunition, took two grenades, and checked his pockets for anything that may be of use to me. Now that I had a gun, it seemed foolish to open fire on an entire enemy squad. I quietly headed in the direction of where the conflict had begun, and once I was out of earshot, I ran hard to get as far away from the Vietnamese soldiers as I could. As nightfall came, I decided to stop walking for a bit and catch my breath. The enemy would have found the body by now and know that I had gone back the other way, but I still felt safe in taking a short break. I had forgotten that I had lost all of my drugs when I was attacked for the second time that day, and I felt so alone, even more so than I had before. It had been at least two days since I last used heroin, and the withdrawals were beginning to hit me for the first time since the ambush. I felt aches and pains all throughout my body. Despite the intense heat of the jungle, I started to shiver and curled myself into a ball on the forest floor. My short break had unintentionally turned into an entire night of me lying on the ground, drifting in and out of sleep, shaking and thinking of how I would do anything, just to get enough heroin to stop the pain. Despite the terrible drug withdrawals, I knew that I had to press on. The sun began to rise, and there was very little time for me to get to the extraction point. I only had twelve or so hours to walk what I estimated was about ten and a half miles. The thought of this distance was only made worse by my horrible body convulsions, I traveled slow, suffering from headaches and sensitivity to the bright light. And, as I walked through the thick jungle, I kept on thinking of all my friends back at the military base talking of the drug mills that existed throughout these parts. Were they true, or were they just rumors that had been started by young, naïve soldiers. I had to push those thoughts out of my mind; they would make me more susceptible to temptation, and cloud my sight of the task at hand. The day was nearing its end. My body was shaking worse than ever from withdrawals, and I continued to sweat worse than this hellishly humid jungle could have ever made me though my skin felt cold and clammy, like when I used to get a fever as a child. I could see the sun descending in the sky. I should be close to the extraction point now. I had only about a mile to go and at least an hour to get there. I felt optimistic about my rescue: A welcome feeling after the pain of the withdrawals and stress of being chased. I could not wait to get on that chopper headed back to base where I could sleep and eat and drink. They would welcome me back and treat me like a hero for surviving the treacherous jungle alone. The thing that lifted my spirits most of all, however, was that the pain felt from the absence of heroin in my body was declining. I felt that if I could go just a while longer without drugs, I had a very good chance of being rid of the stuff completely. The only way to do that, however, was to be deprived of the stuff until I’m sure that I don’t need it anymore. Just as thoughts of optimism filled my head, I came atop a hill and nearly bumped into a short Vietnamese soldier. I acted quickly, and attacked him with the butt of my rifle, beating him down to the ground. I looked around and saw at least eleven more of them taking aim at me. Quickly, I jumped down the backside of the hill towards the direction I came, and took cover from suppressing fire. I peeked my head above the crest and took a shot at the closest soldier to me, hitting him in the center of the chest. I fired at another, with the same outcome. I took a brief look at the scene and the remaining hostiles, and ducked back down to devise a plan and figure out who would need to be killed next to ensure my survival. I popped back up quickly, firing at three soldiers standing close to each other, but I missed all of them. Again, taking cover, I pulled the banana clip from the gun, and out a full magazine back in, racking the slide to put a bullet in the chamber. This time, I fired three shots and hit all three of the soldiers I had missed before. The battle was going surprisingly well, but I was running out of time to get to the extraction point. I had to move, and I had to do it now. I pulled the pin on one of the stolen grenades and threw it in the center of the action, waiting for the explosion. Once I heard the deafening boom, I ran towards the enemy, falling slightly to the left of them. I successfully got past them, but not unnoticed. They continued to shoot at me, and I returned the fire, trying to hold them back. I ran as fast as I could, occasionally stopping to get cover so that I could shoot back at the attacking enemy. I heard the unmistakable whooping of helicopter blades in the distance. I ran till I could see through the trees and into a field where the chopper was landed. Just as I was about to leave the jungle, I noticed an abandoned hut to the left of me. I stopped and stared in disbelief. They were not rumors at all; there was piles of heroin waiting for me, no more than fifty feet away. I looked at the abandoned drug house, back at the enclosing enemy, and then forward to where the helicopter would soon be departing from. I knew what I had to do, but I knew that I would have time to take as much heroin as I wanted and possibly still get to the chopper on time. I couldn’t make a decision, all I could do was stand there and think about the most difficult decision I had ever made in my life. A bullet whizzed past my head and woke me up from my trance. I could do, I had the willpower to pass it up and leave it all behind me. I turned toward the enemy, firing off several rounds, determined to get out of here alive. I would escape from this jungle, and from these evil soldiers, but most of all, I would escape from myself and this addiction that has held me captive for longer than I cared to remember. I ran as hard as I could toward the chopper, all the while firing back at the Vietnamese. I could now see that my entire platoon was in the helicopter, safely. They stared at me in disbelief. Looking at me, then to each other, and then back to me, until they realized what was going on and provided me with the cover fire that I needed to focus all of my attention on getting to that vehicle. Then chopper lifted off the ground, and I jumped, making on board just before we took off, leaving the chaos behind us. We fired at the shrinking Vietnamese squad until we were at a safe distance. I couldn’t believe that I had made it out of there. I laid my head back on the hard steel floor, and listened to the comforting wound of the helicopter blades cutting through the air.