War and History Fiction posted January 2, 2023

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Charlie was the nickname for the Viet Cong.

Charlie In-Country

by Regina Elliott

The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.

The last time I saw Charlie, I was

in-country and they were maddening

shadows, the damn bastards, in the

green and black dense jungle foliage.

Hiding, ghostly and evasive.

My brother soldiers and I were

sweating in dry mouthed anticipation.

The Bong Son Bomber I smoked the

day before was a brief vacation for

my spent mind. We had some fear,

some anger, and what the hell are

we doing here thoughts. We would

drift dreamily with the weed.

But, the following day in-country

all I could recall is a flash of burning,

ungodly pain. A chopper raging thunderously, I

was in and out of consciousness,

as I was loaded onto the angry bird.

Then, she was there, I remember

right before I blacked out. In the

real life, Sharon in her cheerleader

outfit in our high school gym, just

tossed up in a flight of acrobatic beauty

amidst the guys' basketball game.

Her long strawberry blonde

hair streaming, I became blissfully

lost in it. The bridge of her nose

sprinkled with endearing freckles.

Her happy bright brown eyes,

then, a sadness, as she began to

whisper to me.

I awoke in a large wounded

soldiers ward. I felt such a loss.

With my blurry eyes I looked

down the length of my body.

Oh God, I was missing my

lower right leg! I was heavily

bandaged and woozy. I raised

my head up, got a little dizzy.

My next thoughts were of my

brothers still in-country, some

of them in-country longer than

me, some Cherries. My psyche

screamed, "I can't leave my

war buddies !"

I slept so much, and the

Army nurses were friendly

and compassionate. One of

them had such a good sense

of humor, she smiled a lot,

reminding me of Carol Burnett.

My leg bandages were changed

regularly. I could swear I felt

my lower leg was still there.

I played checkers with a few of

the other recovering soldiers.

We had camaraderie and had

some laughs. The hospital

meals were alright, I couldn't

complain about my stay.

My surgeon came to see me

and he told me I was going

home stateside. I was elated,

but then experienced some

guilt. My brothers were still

in that storming chaotic hell.

Tears filled my eyes. The rude

scent of napalm still in my nose.

I took a long sip of apple juice

from the Styrofoam cup next

to my bed. I was only nineteen

but my brothers were young too.

The transistor radio was

playing the Cowsills song,

"Flower Girl," I began to

daydream of Sharon, of high

school, and all of our friends

again at a bonfire that chilly

Homecoming night in October.

All of Sharon's loving letters

to me, waiting, waiting, my

parents too. I'm coming home,

sweet girl, I'm coming home!

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Charlie writing prompt entry

Writing Prompt
Write a story that begins with the line: The last time I saw Charlie ... (continue the sentence and story).

Recognized

This story is dedicated to our
young U.S. soldiers that fought in
the Vietnam War. Some made it
home, wounded in body and soul.
Some others came home neath
the stars and stripes. I love you
all. Welcome Home. ~

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by Linda Bickston at FanArtReview.com

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Charlie was the nickname for the Viet Cong.

Charlie In-Country

by Regina Elliott

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