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Post by PirateOTC on Jan 5, 2007 21:54:13 GMT
"Alright, boys! Grab your bags and walk over to that second line over there where you have to sign up" he says as soon as the chopper lands
Max walks out, almost stumbling as the men pushes him out. He's not that excited... He stops and looks around, taking in this busy and crammed environment, all noises, voices, everything. He licks his lips and then hurries over to the line. A huge line.
He stands behind him in the line. "It's really damp here.." he looks around
He can't help but to smirk slightly at his complainings all the time. Slowly the line moves infront of him.
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Post by Jacky on Jan 5, 2007 22:00:09 GMT
When I get to the front of the line I have to tell the man my name, age, and the city I live in. He looks me up on a gigantic list which is sorted by alphabeth. Seeing how long that takes him, I'm not surprised that this queue is moving so slowly. "There." I point at my own name when I see it. He nods and puts a line through it. Adam Jackson, aged 19 and located in Newsonville is whiped out from the list. It sorta makes me grin.
Welcome to Vietnam. Here we scrap out your name.
"Alright listen up, you'll be in squadron 71B, under the command of lieutenant Sammual Ford. You're located in tent 22 with the rest of your squadron. Be there are 1800 sharp to gather you all together." The man says. "NEXT!"
I move from the line, repeating it to myself a few times. Squadron 71B. Sammual Ford. Tent 22.
I look around the base and frown.. how the hell am I supposed to find tent 22 among this chaos?
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Post by PirateOTC on Jan 5, 2007 22:13:24 GMT
"Next!"
"Maximilian Jackson, age 22 from Louisiana"
He looks through a huge list. It takes sometime before he finds it, but then crosses his name over.
"Alright, it's squadron 71B under the command of lieutenant Sammual Ford for you! Located in tent 22 over there, be there at 1800 sharp. Next!"
He nods at every word he says to him, to remember it and he quickly moves out of the line, shifting his bag on his shoulder as he looks around at all other 'newbies' that gets moved around and told where to go. He looks for the tent
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Post by Jacky on Jan 5, 2007 22:19:41 GMT
Too stubborn to ask someone I push my way to the crowd to where the tents are lined up. A few clearly show their numbers, but plenty of them don't. So I walk among them, starting to get the feeling that I won't make it before 1800 at all. And that's in two friggin' hours.
Eventually I dump my bag on the ground and I sit down next to it. There's no use in walking around like a madman. I observe the newbies, and try to make sense of it. I see one guy who was in the helicopter with me, but he goes into a tent that has a big 18 painted on the side. I suck on my lip, figuring that this isn't going to help me either.
Sh!t..
"HEY YOU!"
I look up and my gaze meets an angry faced army men with badges on his chest. Must be someone more important than the regular private, so I get up and straighten my back.
"What are you doing here, sitting around like that?"
"Looking for my tent.. sir." I say, looking down a little nervously.
"And you expect that tent to just come and get you!? Where are you settled?!"
"Tent 22." I say. "...Sir." I remember to add.
He points in the direction of one of the tents, "Get your @ss over there, then!"
I nod and pick up my bag, wanting to walk away when he stops me again.
"And soldier..!" He eyes Adam's bag. "...we travel light here."
I nod again, feeling like a complete moron now. Thanks a lot, f*cker. I drag my bag over to the tent and go inside.
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Post by PirateOTC on Jan 5, 2007 22:27:29 GMT
22, 22, 22...
he scans every tent, lets out a sigh and stops and mumbles to himself;
"16's over there..." he looks around. "8....30..." he tries to figure out the logic of the settings of these tents.
Got it
he starts walking between the tents.
12...23...22! Not so hard when you think about it
he walks over and opens the tent. It's packed with people and he takes the bag off his shoulder and walks inside to find some space he can put his stuff down on.
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Post by Jacky on Jan 5, 2007 22:39:09 GMT
I find a vacant bunkbed in the far corner. I pick the one that's the most far away from anybody else. But even then, there's only one vacant bed inbetween mine and the next fellow. I sit down on the thin layer that must function as a matress. I cross my legs and pull my bag over, zipping it open in a fluid motion.
There, on top of anything else, is the envelope that my 'parents' gave me before I left. I take out my pocketknife and tear it open carefully. Inside is a note, and small package of banknotes. I pull out the banknotes first and count them. Alltogether they're about a hundred bucks. A huge amount.. at least for me. But they won't do me much good down here in Vietnam.
I tuck them back in safely and pull out the note next. I fold it open and recognize the bad writing of Nelly Watson.
Dear Adam,
Come back safe.
We love you.
Mom and Dad.
I look at the note for a while and then fold it in two, in four, and slowly tear it apart. I'm not sure why.. Maybe because it scares me. Which I would never want to admit.
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Post by PirateOTC on Jan 5, 2007 22:54:42 GMT
He lets out a slight groan as he gets another mans bag right in his face as he swung it over his shoulder. He looks around and spots a free bunkbed, seems to be the only free one left. He put his bag on it and stands by the bed himself as he opens his bag, he immidiately spots a letter.
must be from them...I didn't notice they gave me one
curious of what it says, he sits down on the side of his bed and finds an edge of the envelope and pulls it, ripping it open nicely and he takes out a letter. As he opens it, something falls into his lap from it and he looks down and picks it up.
A necklace...
it's a golden chain necklace which has a peace-dove on it as a pendant. Ironic it might seem, but he remember when he got it and why...he was little then...and it was the only thing he had with him from his original home after he had been forced to the orphanage. He quickly snapped out of it though, as it hurt to be thinking about it, but he put the necklace carefully around his neck and tucked it underneath his shirt, then read the letter;
Dear Maximilian,
We saw the glimt in your eye when you so badly wanted to go to this war and eventhough we never will understand what drove you, I hope that whatever it is made you fulfilled.
Come back safe.
We're waiting.
Love always, Mom and Dad
He read it once more, then put it back into his bag in a different hidden pocket.
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Post by Jacky on Jan 5, 2007 23:03:45 GMT
I put the little pieces of the note on the floor next to my bunkbed, and I pull my bag onto my lap again. I look through all the stuff that I brought.
Travel light.. how the hell can I travel lighter than this?
I wonder what's important to bring and what is not. It's sorta hard to figure all of that out by yourself. I have no idea what luggage is useful in times of war.
Times of war. It's funny, but I never thought I would really get into war *myself*. Whatever is on the news is always so far away, so unreal, so.. like reading one of those continuous stories in the newspapers.
I sigh and shove the bag away, laying down on my back on the bed. It aches, cos I've been sitting uncomfortably in the helicopter while I was sleeping. But I know it'll pass.
As usual, I turn my gaze around the place to observe carefully what's going on. The bed next to mine is taken now. And that must've been the last, cos the tent seems crammed with people at the time. The little space that your matress offers you is really all the space there is.
...Ever since I was a kid I wasn't so good with crowds. So now as well, the noise and the chaos gets on my nerves. I sit up again and jerk my bag open, finding my casette player. I also find a new battery. Travel light - sure, but not without any music sir. I rather be slowed down on a battlefield by the tunes of Barry McGuire than run away without it.
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Post by PirateOTC on Jan 5, 2007 23:10:52 GMT
He's not comfortable with unpacking his bag among these people. Stupid maybe, but then again he's very secretive and doesn't like people getting too close to him personally, and even see what he has packed is personal for him. He has tried so many years to get rid of that stupid habit of his, but he can't.
Good thing about not letting anyone close here is that we're in war...if you don't let anyone close, you won't hurt when they turn their back on you or...dissappear
He had that little brainghost of him telling him these inappropriate things, but it had always been what kept him going. Didn't mean he never cared about anybody else of course...but on a distance. Never get too close.
He stops rummaging around in his bag and just leaves everything in there for now
Where can I put it otherwise? Where can I hide it?
he put his bag in his lap and lets out a sigh as he looks around.
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Post by Jacky on Jan 5, 2007 23:15:44 GMT
I listen to the tape for about three songs, when I start to feel nauseous again. I open my eyes and look around the crowded tent. Crowds like these really do get on my nerves. And I know I'll have to live with it, I'm a soldier now.. but for this first day, I get a sudden itch to get the hell outta here. Just to get some fresh air. Find some isolation. It's an urge than can sweep over me as suddenly as anything, and right now it's at a peak.
I sit up and dump my casette player in the bag. I fish my package of cigarettes out and try to find my lighter, but I can't find it so quickly. I glance aside to the guy in the bed next to me, "Hey!" I try to get his attention. "Do you smoke?"
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