“I wish no soldier, be it, enemy or friend, to live with the horrors of war, be it one firefight or many; peace needs to be the answer before the war, not after.” rwb

I was landing on a hilltop somewhere deep in the jungles setting up a perimeter for the night, one of my 365 nights as a soldier of Charlie company 101st airborne, 4th platoon. The Sargent instructed me to set up my m-60 facing down this hill to a knoll less than 50 meters in front, a little to the right. Most soldiers were getting set up for the night while a few of us were on guard. I noticed coming up this hillside two figures in the distance, I almost didn’t even mention it to the Sargent, but half hardly asked, hey, are those good. guys. or bad guys? The Sargent quickly gets everyone down and tells me to man the machine gun. The Captian hurriedly approaches my position and puts his hand on my steel pot, when I tap you fire.

This barely 18-year-old Mississippi soldier that was taught thou shalt not kill now has his finger on one of the most deadly weapons, the m-60 machine gun. These two NVA soldiers disappear for what seems to be forever, but not for too long, and they are headed right up the trail to the knoll and certin death.

“My thoughts ran wild I knew that I would most certainly kill these two enemy soldiers; my stomach started churning, my mouth was becoming dry, and I even wondered if I would pull the trigger. My thoughts began asking; this isn’t a battle; this is murder. These men want even get or have a chance; this isn’t war, not conflict, but just murder. The two NVA soldiers are only a few minutes from being on top of the knoll with not even a blade of grass in my way to slaughter both. I feel the anxiousness of the moment, and I sense it is near; my hands are sweating. These two NVA soldiers are looking at a picture of young woman and are laughing, and they have no sense that doom is upon them now. Unbelievably without hesitation, the tap on the helmet as the sound of thunder erupts into death. The first round is a tracer I feel it hit the soldier on the right arm and then blow a hole big enough to see daylight; I believed, in his chest. The second soldier trying to remove his AK-47 from around his shoulder was met with many rounds, and one round caused his head to nearly explode off his body as I quit firing. I was lying there, feeling that I was the worse person on earth.

I was being congratulated on my deed, but it wasn’t felt that way inside me at all; I was sick. Sargent went over and screamed out to the Captain that one of the men was an officer and took the pistol from his belt and brought it over to me for a souvenir; I took it but set it down and looked over at the two now-dead NVA soldiers, I have not moved or said a word, I am stunned, lost in my mind. I notice my mouth is dry; my tongue has swollen big enough to make breathing almost impossible. I realize I must calm down. About this time, a Lieutenant realized that I was new and distraught about my killing these two men; he brought a canteen of water and gave me a drink; he smiled and departed without a word.

I was asked whether I wanted the first guard, middle guard, or last guard tonight. I chose the first guard. I knew I couldn’t sleep. Darkness came with moonlight as bright as any I have ever seen; the two NVA soldiers covered up with poncho liners lying where I killed them. It seemed that I hadn’t had enough punishment for what I did when the picture of the woman blew into my position; silent tears flowed like rain until I felt an arm around me; I realized I wasn’t that quiet after all.

My time for the guard was up, but I told the soldier to go back to sleep. I would pull his guard, and he quickly agreed. My thoughts about the woman in the picture are that she was a wife, daughter, or girlfriend. Maybe even a sister, yes, I could see a sister; she didn’t look like a wife. The way they were laughing made me feel better that it wasn’t a wife or daughter. I don’t understand why I wanted it to be a sister. (i had four sisters that gave me hell)

The images of this day are frozen in time into my memory forever until the day I die. I fought and killed many times after and saw many of my people killed, but the innocents I lost that day forever changed me.

Note; leaders that lead by the sword rarely do the battle, the men that must carry the sword into battle, rarely do the planning. The deaths are statistics and numbers to the planners but are the hearts,souls and bodies of the combat soldiers that make these plans work or fail. GOD BLESS COMBAT SOLDIERS, MY WE NEVER NEED AGAIN.