Post by ThegunsofNevada on Jan 12, 2005 1:30:51 GMT -5
“We weren’t supposed to be there, sir.”<br> “I know that, but you had official clearance, son.”<br>“No, I mean we weren’t supposed to be there. We weren’t intended too. Recon said nothing but jungle was there, but they were wrong.”<br> “What was there?”<br>“You want this as a damn report, or you want me to tell you everything, sir?”<br> “Sorry, Sergeant, carry on.”<br>“Yes, sir. The helo dropped us off on top of a hill, and we made our way into the jungle. The tracker said there were no signs of VC activity, no footprints, no animals, nothing. It was just the strangest thing ive ever felt…There weren’t any birds chirping, no bugs buzzing around…One of the boys stepped on a twig and it sounded like a gun going off, you know, sir?”
“But your SOG. Your supposed to be the best, the quietest…We pay you to be ghosts.”<br> “Yes, sir, it’s just that there wasn’t any other noise. Nothing at all. It was just as quiet as the grave. It was dark, too, so dark that I would have felt better with a starlight scope on my rifle, sir. All of the trees made a canopy, maybe fifty feet above the ground. It was old growth, too, sir. Trees so wide you could wrap a belt from an M60 ‘round ‘em.”
“Eh.”
“And we thought it was raining, too, but ill come to that later, sir. We slank along real salty like for about ten or twenty clicks, up to the Cambo..."
“Son, this all is being recorded. Don’t finish that sentence.”<br>“Yes, sorry sir. ‘bout twenty clicks up to the border, sir. You ever been in the jungle, General?”<br> “Do I look like it, Soldier?”<br>“No offense, but no, sir.”<br> “None taken, Marine.”
“Yes, sir. Its always murky and a bit scary out there; All shades of gray and black and green, everything blending together like on a tigerstripe uniform. You get used to how quiet it is…no talking, nothing, ‘cause you don’t want anyone to hear you. Not even any gear rattling. You get so salty and aware that you feel like superman, sir…”
“Eh.”<br>“But anyway, sir, we got moving. It was already dark, and as the sun started to come down, it got just about pitch black. Finally we got out into a clearing, and we realized that it wasn’t raining.
“What?”<br>“Something wet had been dripping on us the whole time, sir. We figured it was water; rain or condensation or something like that. But last time I checked, water doesn’t look like mercury. It was raining and dripping silver, sir, and there were puddles of it on the ground and everywhere. Then we tried to get it off, and we couldn’t. It was slimy, and felt like that mucus you get of the belly of a toad. We just rubbed it in and made it worse.”<br> “Do you know what it was?”<br>“Yes, sir. Agent Orange. Tons of it. No one bothered to tell us it had been dropped over the target area, though.”
“Continue on.”<br>“Yes, sir. The clearing that we stepped on actually turned out to be a bit of a cliff space…We made our way down.”<br> “That’s were your report said the first man was injured.”<br>“Yes, sir. Damnedest thing, too. Jo…”
“Son, this is being recorded. No names.”<br>“Sorry, sir. The mastercheif went down hard about half way down the cliff, sir. It was an easy climb; We didn’t even need any rope. He just went down like a sack of potato’s, and when we chased him down to the bottom of the hill, well, sir, his ankle was bent a way it shouldn’t have been.”<br> “Your report said it was broken. Is that correct?”<br>“Yes, sir. Anyway, we got on the radio and called for a medivac.”<br> “Why did you do that?”<br>“It was a major break, sir. It was either carry him with us for the next eight days, call a medivac, or shoot him in the head and dump him under a tree.”
“I see. Considering Jo, er, the mastercheif's abilities, the later wasn’t really an option, and neither was the first one.”<br> “That’s right, sir. Anyway, a medivac and a couple of armed escort whirlybirds were sent, sir, only they never got there.”<br> “Why?”<br>“Don’t rightly know, sir. But we heard ‘em, though. Then just about all hell broke loose. We heard gun fire and a shooting and explosions…We tried to radio ‘em, but nothing got through.”
“You said in your report that you went to investigate the scene?”<br>“Yes, sir, we did. We hopped it pretty quick, and I had the mastercheif on my back.”
“What happened when we got there?”<br>“Well, we started finding shell casings, sir. Hundreds and hundreds of .308’s, sir. Then we came on some big, beaten areas from the rockets, and finally the crash sites themselves.”<br> “You said in your report that, and I quote, ‘helicopters presumed lost to enemy fire?’. Why the doubt?”<br> “Well, sir, I figured it had to be gooks. Either some Cambod…, err insurgents, or locals. Some portable AA, as recon said there weren’t any turrets around…”
“So why not that?”<br>“Well, sir, when we found the crash site, we couldn’t find anything wrong with the choppers. They were beat to hell from the fall, but no bullet holes; no blast marks…anything. We only found a few dozen bullets left in the rounds, too. Another thing, sir…there were .223 and .45 casings in the chopper. Not loose bullets, sir, but shell casings. Like the crew were firing.”<br> “The .45’s aren’t useful beyond about 50 yards, son, and the choppers would have been further than that off the ground…What could they have been firing at?”<br>“I don’t rightly know, sir, but in the weapons we found, there weren’t a single bullet left in the magazines.”
“That doesn’t make any sense…Did you find any enemy kills? Any evidence of a fire fight?”<br>“No, sir. It just didn’t figure! No bodies, no blood…The VC are pretty good at covering up their tracks, but our tracker didn’t find anything.”<br>“What about the bodies of the crew?”<br>“Sir…they weren’t there.”
“What do you mean, Sergeant?”
“I mean they weren’t there, sir. Their packs, survival gear, canteens…every thing was, sir. But they weren't.”<br> “You’re telling me that there were no bodies in the downed choppers?”<br>
“But your SOG. Your supposed to be the best, the quietest…We pay you to be ghosts.”<br> “Yes, sir, it’s just that there wasn’t any other noise. Nothing at all. It was just as quiet as the grave. It was dark, too, so dark that I would have felt better with a starlight scope on my rifle, sir. All of the trees made a canopy, maybe fifty feet above the ground. It was old growth, too, sir. Trees so wide you could wrap a belt from an M60 ‘round ‘em.”
“Eh.”
“And we thought it was raining, too, but ill come to that later, sir. We slank along real salty like for about ten or twenty clicks, up to the Cambo..."
“Son, this all is being recorded. Don’t finish that sentence.”<br>“Yes, sorry sir. ‘bout twenty clicks up to the border, sir. You ever been in the jungle, General?”<br> “Do I look like it, Soldier?”<br>“No offense, but no, sir.”<br> “None taken, Marine.”
“Yes, sir. Its always murky and a bit scary out there; All shades of gray and black and green, everything blending together like on a tigerstripe uniform. You get used to how quiet it is…no talking, nothing, ‘cause you don’t want anyone to hear you. Not even any gear rattling. You get so salty and aware that you feel like superman, sir…”
“Eh.”<br>“But anyway, sir, we got moving. It was already dark, and as the sun started to come down, it got just about pitch black. Finally we got out into a clearing, and we realized that it wasn’t raining.
“What?”<br>“Something wet had been dripping on us the whole time, sir. We figured it was water; rain or condensation or something like that. But last time I checked, water doesn’t look like mercury. It was raining and dripping silver, sir, and there were puddles of it on the ground and everywhere. Then we tried to get it off, and we couldn’t. It was slimy, and felt like that mucus you get of the belly of a toad. We just rubbed it in and made it worse.”<br> “Do you know what it was?”<br>“Yes, sir. Agent Orange. Tons of it. No one bothered to tell us it had been dropped over the target area, though.”
“Continue on.”<br>“Yes, sir. The clearing that we stepped on actually turned out to be a bit of a cliff space…We made our way down.”<br> “That’s were your report said the first man was injured.”<br>“Yes, sir. Damnedest thing, too. Jo…”
“Son, this is being recorded. No names.”<br>“Sorry, sir. The mastercheif went down hard about half way down the cliff, sir. It was an easy climb; We didn’t even need any rope. He just went down like a sack of potato’s, and when we chased him down to the bottom of the hill, well, sir, his ankle was bent a way it shouldn’t have been.”<br> “Your report said it was broken. Is that correct?”<br>“Yes, sir. Anyway, we got on the radio and called for a medivac.”<br> “Why did you do that?”<br>“It was a major break, sir. It was either carry him with us for the next eight days, call a medivac, or shoot him in the head and dump him under a tree.”
“I see. Considering Jo, er, the mastercheif's abilities, the later wasn’t really an option, and neither was the first one.”<br> “That’s right, sir. Anyway, a medivac and a couple of armed escort whirlybirds were sent, sir, only they never got there.”<br> “Why?”<br>“Don’t rightly know, sir. But we heard ‘em, though. Then just about all hell broke loose. We heard gun fire and a shooting and explosions…We tried to radio ‘em, but nothing got through.”
“You said in your report that you went to investigate the scene?”<br>“Yes, sir, we did. We hopped it pretty quick, and I had the mastercheif on my back.”
“What happened when we got there?”<br>“Well, we started finding shell casings, sir. Hundreds and hundreds of .308’s, sir. Then we came on some big, beaten areas from the rockets, and finally the crash sites themselves.”<br> “You said in your report that, and I quote, ‘helicopters presumed lost to enemy fire?’. Why the doubt?”<br> “Well, sir, I figured it had to be gooks. Either some Cambod…, err insurgents, or locals. Some portable AA, as recon said there weren’t any turrets around…”
“So why not that?”<br>“Well, sir, when we found the crash site, we couldn’t find anything wrong with the choppers. They were beat to hell from the fall, but no bullet holes; no blast marks…anything. We only found a few dozen bullets left in the rounds, too. Another thing, sir…there were .223 and .45 casings in the chopper. Not loose bullets, sir, but shell casings. Like the crew were firing.”<br> “The .45’s aren’t useful beyond about 50 yards, son, and the choppers would have been further than that off the ground…What could they have been firing at?”<br>“I don’t rightly know, sir, but in the weapons we found, there weren’t a single bullet left in the magazines.”
“That doesn’t make any sense…Did you find any enemy kills? Any evidence of a fire fight?”<br>“No, sir. It just didn’t figure! No bodies, no blood…The VC are pretty good at covering up their tracks, but our tracker didn’t find anything.”<br>“What about the bodies of the crew?”<br>“Sir…they weren’t there.”
“What do you mean, Sergeant?”
“I mean they weren’t there, sir. Their packs, survival gear, canteens…every thing was, sir. But they weren't.”<br> “You’re telling me that there were no bodies in the downed choppers?”<br>