Part III The Young Journalist

It was a Saturday morning in the month of July in the year of 1969 and we had been given a special assignment to go to an area that was heavily populated by the Vietcong. Our mission was to scout the place and come back with a report of how much activity was buzzing around there. It had been reported that there might possibility be a war camp at that location. We were instructed not to engage in combat because if there was a prisoner of war camp there something might change.We were to keep a low profile and map the area out if there were to be any truth to the intelligence memo that had trickled down to our commander in chief. It was vital that our small group of soldiers not be seen and to only fire our weapons as a last resource. A trained dog that could sniff out the enemy and his handler had been brought in to assist us. The idea was to let the dog warn us of the approaching enemy so that we could hide and wait to make our next move.Since we were infantry soldiers and our only trained goal was to kill the enemy, or capture them, keeping the bullets in our weapons barrels was a challenge to up hold. However; orders were orders and we had to obey, or else risk a court-martial. We were to carry only what we needed to move fast and defend our team of nine. A selected team had been assembled and consisted of men with experience and knowledge of the terrain we were about to be airlifted to. Each weapon that the individual soldier possessed was important to the success of staying alive in case we were to be discovered.Our drop zone would have to be far away from the objective and so we left secretively from the rest of company of men. The helicopters quickly got us there and we hurriedly moved on. The dog was a big help to a certain degree because his sense of smell was extraordinary and it gave us a sense of security. He could smell the enemy, but unfortunately he was not trained to smell the booby traps like some of the other dogs. I was point man and my job was to look and find them before they went off. The dog and his handler were behind me.My dependence was on the dog alerting me of the enemy’s presence and so I was careful in my search for hidden trip wires, land mines, or bamboo traps. It was a job I had done many times and my expertise had carried us through many missions, but there was something about this particular one. The pressure of the commander in chief giving us direct orders was too unusual, it sounded too phony. Orders didn’t come the way they had given them to us like before, but who was I to question? I was a soldier trained to obey.“Wait up on your story please! I need to check the tape and the batteries because it seems like your interesting story is going to be a long one. Being that this will be my first time doing this I don’t want to mess it up. Oh no, it’s going to take me a little longer than I thought. The tape got stuck and I hope I haven’t lost too much of what you have already said. I’m so clumsy, I’m sorry, that’s why I was told to write down some notes too because things like this can ruin my story. Please wait till I get my notebook and pencil, and please don’t look at me like that! Okay, new batteries are in; my pencil is ready to go, so please continue.”

Currently unavailable for purchase

Part III The Young Journalist by 

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10%off for joining

the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.