Lowell, Ron
This wasn’t his fault.
Lowell turned over on his leaf made bed.
The pain in his arm, which was still as swollen as a football, wouldn’t let up.
None of this was his fault.
He was only a clerk who’d been drafted against his will and sent to Vietnam before even completing three months of training.
Moreover, he was only twenty-one.
He didn’t deserve any of this.
Some minutes later, emotionally exhausted, his mind gave in, and Lowell fell into a far from peaceful sleep.
He saw himself running through the jungle with Robertson and the Vietcong were on their tails.
The thing was that Lowell had seen it coming before Robertson, but since he was in front, Robertson hadn’t heard him scream “Rob! Rob!” trying to get his attention. His friend only came to a full stop when he got punched in the face, catapulting him to the ground.
After seeing Robertson fall to the ground like that, Lowell stopped instantly too.
As he raised his arms to surrender, one of the North Vietnamese soldiers turned and pointed his AK at him.
“NO!” he screamed.
It was no use .
The AK lit slightly and he suddenly felt his right arm get all warm.
The heat went through his arm like a flash, warming it up on the inside.
It felt odd and unnatural and he felt sick.
He would never forget that heat blast for the rest of his life.
After the shot, Lowell collapsed to the ground.
He couldn’t reason, his brain had been put in pause, lost in a moment of horror knowing perfectly well he’d been hit, but not how bad it really is.
Lowell saw Robertson try to get up after that first punch, trying to defend himself, but as he did, a club came crashing down over his head.
Even from that distance, Lowell heard the horrible sound his skull made when it got hit.
That kind of blow would kill you.
Lowell woke with a start, for the hundredth time.
He’d lived that scene so many times by that point, that it hardly even upset him anymore.
Being free was far stranger than being locked in a cage, down a hole, living as a prisoner or that dream could ever be for that matter.
Lowell looked into the darkness.
This wasn’t my fault – he thought.