Tale of Johnny Ray

Thank-you as well for your service brother.

 

I drive southeast regional for Averitt Express out of Cookeville TN.
Raining here in Georgia. So much for working on my old pickup. Guess I will watch the Bristol race and maybe work on a new chapter.
Leaving tonight for Sumter SC.

 

I would have thought seeing Henderson blown to bits at Fort Dix would have prepared me for this. Not even close.
That was a training accident. At least it was classified as one, although those of us present knew better.
But this was different. This was malice to the highest degree. These folks want us dead. It was finally real to me.

"Smoke 'em if you got 'em" sarge announced. "Don't matter now. They #### sure know we're here. Setting up all night perimeter guard.
Two on two off. We're taking the north and west sector. Second squad will be covering the south and east.
Reed, you got first shift on the north side. Start digging your hole. I'll help you set up your claymores*.
I'm not just talking to the newbies here. Everybody listen up. Don't stare at one spot too long or you'll be seeing stuff that ain't there.
And keep your weapon on safety or you'll be shooting at ghosts. Slip into a mini dream and think you think you're still awake.
I can just about guarantee they won't hit us tonight, but they're making sure we don't get any sleep.
I'll be up most of the night and check on yall from time to time"

Grizzly came along to help me set up. He would be alternating shifts with me and it was important for him to know the location of the claymores.
We had made good progress on the hole by the time sarge approached.
"Looking good boys. Just don't make it so deep you can't see out. You done good today Reed.
I know you feel bad for John and Josh, but nothing else you could have done.
I know you weren't looking back, but everybody behind you hit the dirt when they seen you dive.
You saved some lives. By the way, you're walking point tomorrow"


The Claymore fires shrapnel, in the form of steel balls, out to about 100 meters within a 60° arc in front of the device. It is used primarily in ambushes and as an anti-infiltration device against enemy infantry

 

Sarge recommended we expand the hole to accomodate two men. It would make shift changes easier and double the firepower if we got hit.
The first shift was uneventful. I was still wired too tight to worry about dozing off.
Two hours later, a gentle shake was all that was required to rouse Grizz.
He told me that after eight months in the bush, he was really never awake nor asleep anymore. Said it all just kind of ran together.

It became so foggy I could only see a few feet in front of me. The moonlight was still there, but very faint, creating eerie shadows.
I heard footsteps approaching. Very close now. Was it just a deer? No, I can definitely make out a human form. Moving clummsily, making no effort at stealth.
I try to raise my M-16, but it seems to be caught on something. The figure is only three feet away when it stops.
I look up to see Josh, looking like a zombie, blood running from the hole where his arm used to be.
How can he still be bleeding? That was nearly eight hours ago.
"It's all your fault Reed. It's all your fault because you're a stupid newbie" he tells me in a dull monotone.
"But I tried to stop you man! You were walking point, not me. It was your responsibility" I said in my defense.
"Don't try to pass the buck Reed. You're just a stupid lameass newbie"
I decide it's time to wake up Grizz. He will understand. He knows the truth.
As I shake him, he turns to face me, only it's John in the hole with me.
The top of his head is gone and I can see clear through his chest.
"I brought you something John" Josh says in that same creepy monotone. "I thought you might need these"
I look up and notice for the first time that that Josh is carrying a pair of legs with his remaining arm.

"Wake up dude, wake up, wake up" I heard in a forced whisper. It was Grizz shaking me.
I look around. No fog. No zombies. Only Grizz. I was shaking and sweating, trying to make sense out of what just happened.
"Chill out dude. Just a nightmare man. It's OK now. But if you scream out again like that, you could get us killed" Grizz whispers.

"You boys OK?" spoke a voice from behind us. It was SGT Lykes.
"Sure sarge. Reed just got the jitters. I think he'll be fine now. Won't have to worry about him dozing off, that's for sure" Grizz responded.
"Alright then. Let me know if you need anything. And try to get some shuteye Reed. I still want you on point tomorrow when we pull out.
You got some good instincts. Don't worry about tonight. You're in good hands with ole Grizz here"

 

SGT Lykes allowed a short nap for those on night duty before pulling out since we were only a half days walk from our objective.
Being wired from the night before I only dozed about thirty minutes. Ant brought over some steaming hot canteen water he prepared with sterno.
The C-Ration instant coffee we mixed in was strong and bitter, but potent. Adding sugar was useless but we did so anyway.
"Want to trade places, Reb?" Ant asked me jokingly. He had been assigned the caboose. Walking in the rear could be just as hazardous as point.
There was no good place to be out here anyway, but the middle did offer a feeling of security, imagined or not.

"Mornin boys" SGT Lykes said in greeting as he ambled over. He was a lanky fellow from Butler, Pennsylvania.
I will always remember his hands. Large and rough. The tip of his middle finger was missing.
Not from combat, but from working in a steel mill. He was among the enlistees. A minority among all the young draftees.
Viet-Nam or not, he said he couldn't picture a life in the mills like his father, uncles and brothers before him.
"I know you're a pretty fair shot Reb. Do much hunting down there in Georgia?" he asked me.
"Not really. I wouldn't have a problem shooting a deer if we needed the meat, but we never did.
The man I worked for would kill a cow or two every year and split it up among the folks that worked for him.
A hog every now and then too. Plenty to go around. We had some good catfish too in the ponds around there.
But I've shot my share of snakes now. By the time I was fourteen I could score a head shot at a hundred feet with a .22.
Not that I had anything against snakes, mind you, but they spooked the cows something fierce.
A rattlesnake rarely strikes unless provoked. They will sit up and rattle to indimidate their opponents. It's a defensive posture really.
But it would panic the cows and sometimes they would stampede and often one would accidentally run over the snake and get bit.
It can also sour the milk of a milking cow when they get upset like that. Not sure if I ever believed that, but my boss sure did.
Now a cottonmouth, that's a water moccasin, they are different. They are silent, and will strike without warning, just like ole Charlie out here.
And a moccasin can survive on land and in the water. Gotta watch out when the cows go down to drink from the edge of the pond.Or when you're fishing for that matter.
Sorry about rambling on like that. I know you didn't ask for a class on reptile behavior. I get to talking when I get tired sometimes"
"That's quite all right Reb" sarge said. "Don't mind at all. Don't know where I'm going to end up when this is all over and a fella can't never learn too much.
Reason I come to talk to you boys is this will be a first for both of you. The village I mean. Don't mind telling you I hate it worse than anything.
Rather be in a firefight. At least you know what you're up against. With this, everthing is different. You just never know.
Just be calm. These people hate us already and the best we can do is try not to spook them any worse.
Intelligence thinks the place is crawling with tunnels. But everything happens at night and we don't have any aerial surveillance photos.
That means doing it the old fashioned way. Which is walking our expendable butts in there and poking around.
If it was up to me, we would call in an air strike and vaporize the place. I'm tired of seeing good men die.
But it ain't up to me and they want us to fight fair, whatever the hell that means"

Authors note:
There are only four poisonous snakes indigenous to the United States, and all four can be found in Georgia.