Short Story / Cracked the Sky (Analysis)
“Men. In about twenty hours, you are going to embark on a mission. Many of you will most likely not make it back, and whatever wife you have at home will be getting visited by two men in black suits, black hats, black sunglasses, who will arrive and depart in a black Chevrolet. She will most likely sit in the doorway screaming no, pleading with them as if they were the god and devil trying to strike a deal with one or the other. She will also have the honor of arranging your funeral. So write your sweet talk letter home now, because you don’t want your legacy to end here and to carry that down six feet under with you. You might also want to include an epitaph if you’re really planning correctly. And the many of you that will die, will have a closed casket funeral, if there is anything even inside. The enemies here do some quite disturbing things with the soldiers that really put them up to a fight, or even worse took a Vietcong of theirs. That is all. Goodnight, be ready in the morning.”
The general’s words were startling. He was so blunt that everybody in the crowd listening to their orders was too stricken to cry. There were really no words, no piece of music, or even any drugs to recreate what he put into our souls. We were all raped of something that night. It was like a child who woke up because of a nightmare, then walked into his parents bedroom only to be acknowledged to the fact that they were simply gone, and right then we walked into a nightmare. Almost so vivid and lucid that it seemed like fantastical reality. There was no way that any of this could be real, but there was no way that it couldn’t.
We knew we were stuck in this horrible in between, and at this moment, we were in the safest spot we’d be in, until we were staring at the sky with that goddamn bittersweet chest full of bullets smile on our face, knowing we could close our eyes and end the nightmare.
Nobody spoke for the rest of the night. Some wrote letters home and to grandparents, siblings, old girlfriends, affairs, anyone they could remember to try and pass the time.
Then the lights went out. In our beds we could all sense that not a single one of us was actually closing their eyes, not a single one of us was going to sleep for hours, and if we stayed awake the whole night, well fuck, it prolonged the longest day of our goddamn lives.
The morning came around. Most of the men hadn’t moved or even blinked since the lights went out. Did I mention that we were striking early in the morning? The light from the sun wasn’t even full bloom yet. The jungle was facing us, and whether we liked it our not we had to buck up and dive face first into the unknown. Just like being born, we didn’t ask for it, didn’t plan on it, and for fucking sure didn’t know what was going on. We had to go face the problems head on or run, and even then every day we were jus waiting for a knock on the door to see those same conflicts looking through the peephole, knowing we’re pretending they’re not there. Except this was different, we were going to die.
Some men’s eyes were dry from not blinking the whole night, some wept until they were bloodshot and crying tears.
Some just kept breathing in and out, attempting to exhale a sigh of relief, but it was all done in vain. How were we supposed to come to terms so fast?
The sergeants came and woke us up, although we had been awake since the night before. We all were ready for combat; boots tied tight, uniforms on, helmets strapped, makeup on our face, and our guns loaded as they could be. We had reports that our bunk was the only one without a suicide that night. I couldn’t decide whether those souls had taken the easy way, or the smart way out. I know I’d hate to be the guy sleeping under the man who shot himself upside the head at 2am before the offensive.
“Men, I hope you had a good night sleep, and are all well rested for today. Most of you will not go down in the history books, but this day will not be forgotten, so you should have post-marked those letters and sent them, because that was your only sure shot at anything today.”
Sure shot. Anything… Today? Was he even speaking anymore? I heard the words, but it wasn’t registering.
“You see the jungle behind me. The Vietcong are a few hundred yards or more in there. But as always you must be on the lookout, watch for trip wires, and telltale signs of landmines. You guys know what you’re doing. Don’t rush it; I’m sure most of you don’t want it to come anyway… That is all. We must move.”
Slowly the general stepped down, strapped the helmet already placed on his head. And we started walking. This was like a haunted forest out of the worst fairy tales. Alice in Horror land would be a much better place this. We were all convinced that this was absolute hell.
As we were walking the men to my sides were checking left and right, pulling their guns up to their faces and looking down the scope and spiraling around, as if they were going to find something new in this jungle. I wasn’t even going to start looking; I knew that I didn’t want to find anything at all.
It was silent for a while. The only words we had heard in the past day and night had been the goddamn general, who to my surprise didn’t just take a hummer straight out of that hell hole. For all we knew, they were just making us going through here to lure the Vietcong into this jungle to napalm the living shit out of it. It would have been a more effective use of the man power, we were in no shape to do any war, and at least the enemy had something to die for.
Well, we did too, it was just an escape. If there was a god I could pray to like half the guys in my platoon, I’m sure I would have given up in him by now. Jesus had a better chance getting through his execution than we did. And still, we walked on.
By now it seemed like there was going to be no enemy at all, and we went through all that turmoil and emotional pain, accepting death, just to go on to live another day. By now we were ready to fucking die. And still, we walked on.
These enemies must have been nice to us, there were still no explosions, but the jungle was thicker than fog, and was so moist it was like wading through a breathable ocean. Something was wrong, I could sense it. But then again, I think we all knew that, I had gotten into maybe two serious fist fights in my life, and now I was on my toes ready to blwo the head off of the next person I saw that wasn’t wearing green and looked like an American.
The few men around me were shaking. Each time I looked at one of their legs take a step forward it was trembling like the finger of the guy who got to push the big red button that launched the atomic bomb.
We had no way to track time besides the sun filtering through the canopy of the jungle. It was almost mystical. For all I knew we could have stumbled upon the fountain of youth and some goddesses that would fly us away… I think the insanity was starting to get to me. Something in my brain was working well at this point though, we were all walking causally and the danger seemed less so. We kept moving forward, until I said the first words in a long time. “Where the fuck is the platoon?” The men looked at me with faces of absolute horror. We all started to frantically look around, run back some, listen, even tried cutting down some of the brush. We started to bolt, by this point we could have walked in circles for miles, but it was still the same jungle to us.
The man who had been walking to my left the whole time ran faster than all of us and started screaming.
It was at this point we heard gunfire to the right of us, he did a quick spin, the screaming stopped, and we heard his body drop to the wet ground.
Instantly we took our positions and fired blindly into the brush. I was exhilarated, it felt like a game, but it was too late. Of course we were surrounded, I was the first to get hit in the back of the head, and then dropped to the warm wet ground, and one by one we were dragged to the camp.
I awoke in what seemed to be a wooden cabin like structure. I could hear the sound of a river or water of some sort around us. There were five of us including me in here, and god knows how many more cabins filled with men dead and alive.
“Rise and shine. You should have stayed asleep.”
“Where are we?”
“Don’t know…”
“Are we going to die?”
“…Don’t know.”
“Are they going to torture us?”
“Probably, we haven’t been here much longer than you have. I suppose we’re going to just starve to death or something if we’re lucky. I don’t think they’d let us have the easy way out and just shoot us.”
At that moment the door burst open. A Vietnamese man with a gun was yelling something we all didn’t understand, pointed to me and the man who was talking to me. We got up in confusion, not knowing what was in store for us.
We walked out the door and there were more Vietcong waiting for us, we each had the courtesy of getting guns put to our backs as we were led away. Incase we wanted to run, we knew what the outcome would be. The things we were witnessing in this courtyard of torture seemed like a big comical act to the Vietnamese. If you were to hear only them, the laughter and screaming of their foul language could have been a school yard, with kids running around at recess or lunch break. At least that’s what I was trying to imagine that it was. Anything was better than here, and this was better than where we were going, I knew that much.
We entered a room next to the river. There was a pool of water on the far side, and there was a circle contraption, very badly built that looked like it was somehow powering their facility, or pulling something. It was probably another torture device pulling the legs off of another kid on the other side of the camp.
Immediately they pushed the guns to our backs harder and it seemed like they wanted us to go under water. They kneeled us down and we were just a foot or so from this dirty Vietnamese river water. They spoke some more in their devil language and started laughing. I looked to my right and the man who was with me was looking straight at me too. Side to side, face to face, the guns were pushed to our heads and we were dunked into this satanic baptism. The current was faster than it looked from the outside; whatever was powered by this must be pretty efficient.
They pulled us back up. They were laughing some more, and then pushed the other man down, and let me watch, they pointed and forced me to look as they then hit him some. You could hear a muffled scream and watch the bubbles come up from next to his head. I was fearful to have him come back up, because I knew I was next. Although, at this point I wasn’t sure which was worse, getting beaten or watching it all happen.
They jerked his head back up and he was still screaming.
Then it was my turn. I was right, the pain wasn’t so bad, but I could feel their eyes and laughter as I was being beaten, and I could feel the pain in the eyes of the man watching this all happen to me.
This continued some, as it got stranger, and more sadistic, but each time I was more numb to it, so the pain stayed pretty much constant the whole time.
That was comforting.
Eventually the Vietnamese were having a smoke break in the room and let us sit. We were looking at each other and knew not to speak. But with his eyes, the man in front of me told me he was dead, he motioned that he might make a break out the door or at one of the men beating us.
I knew this was a valiant thought, but it would lead nowhere, if we wanted to live we had to jump into that water and hope for the best.
And then just as fast as the bullet shot the first man in the jungle the man screamed and jumped up, there was screaming, but we were too close for shooting, they hit him to the ground then shot a few times.
This gave me enough time to keel over into the water sideways, but it wasn’t long before I could see bullets hitting the wood in their attempt to kill me. I was holding my breath for dear life, but I was pretty used to that by now.
I was beaten and sore, but floating along the river. They didn’t chase after me, but I figured they thought I would die anyway, and they had many more people to prey on back at the camp, so I was safe for now.
The river went for a long while and the sun was beginning to set when I hit a shallow part and could get up again. I started walking, I was bloody and tired, but I wasn’t dead. Good thing I didn’t have a wife, I would have scared her with the letter I sent, just to show up alive and have her slap me in the face when I showed up to the door and she had a new husband.
I heard voices, but to my surprise they sounded American, so I started to run. I knew in my mind I might as well run for this or die trying, I was dead either way.
To my luck it turned out to be part of my platoon at the rendezvous point I had forgotten all about. They saw me and recognized me immediately, took me in and I was safe.
After that I wasn’t able to fight anymore, and they figured I had done my part anyway and sent me back home. Time goes by much faster in real life, and it’s unsettling, but not as much so as the jungle.
I found a wife a year after I got back, and we did the typical American thing, bought a house in the suburbs, ended up having two daughters, who are all I have to show for myself. A crappy nine to five job in a white picket town, where all the men have white collar jobs, and it just so happens we’re all white, except the milk man.
* *
The girls have gotten into high school now and my life has pretty much settled down. The wife stays home, and I have saved up more and more money and might be able to retire soon, what with my disability and all because of my time in the war.
Life is good I guess, but nothing special, but nothing to complain about.
* *
For a year now I have had this headache every day. I have been checked out several times, but none of the doctors can find anything. I’m going to see this new guy tonight though; hopefully he’ll know what to do.
The new head doctor said this is a common problem with guys my age, so he gave me a pill to take about a quarter of an hour before I go to bed. It’s already in my belly and I am going to sleep right now, oh god I hope this head ache goes away.
I woke up in a daze… My eyes were blurry, but the pain was gone in my head. It felt somewhat numb, but maybe that’s just the medication taking its effect.
For some reason it’s very dark in my bedroom this morning, and hotter than normal. Something is very off this morning. I still can’t see very well, I think I’m starting to focus though.
“Hey there buddy… Whatever shit you pulled must’ve impressed those fuckers. They didn’t shoot you in the head like the other guy… Hello? You awake? Were you dreaming? Was it better than this place? It’s night time now, and darker than being underground, they won’t bother us till morning. Try and go back to sleep, you look pretty banged up from earlier.”
I didn’t know what to believe at this point. I’m glad I didn’t have a god to believe in, it would have proved his inexistence now. For some strange reason, the only words I could muster up in a hysterical fit of laughter were, “God Bless Us… We need all the blessings we can get.”
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
You are clearly trying to describe the horror of the Vietnam War to your reader. I feel like you focus on what the main character is thinking rather than what he is sensing. Give us some descriptions of the smells, or the thickness of the air or clouds of mosquitos. This story seams exaggerated from the get go. In the General’s speech:
“black suits, black hats, black sunglasses, who will arrive and depart in a black Chevrolet.”
Why does he mention everything is black?
My favorite part:
“until we were staring at the sky with that goddamn bittersweet chest full of bullets smile on our face,”
What a fantastic line. But this portion is confusing and unnecessary:
”,knowing we could close our eyes and end the nightmare.”
Overall, I think you need to name your main character. You need to add historical perspective (do some research and describe an actual conflict). This will help to make the reader care more. I also feel like you end the story where it should begin. The idea that he wakes up from the drug and is back in the war is a very creative and interesting premise, but you spend very little time exploring it.
- add/view comments (0)
Writing this in first person makes it feel like a story of the past, something personal. I would change the “I” and introduce a character. Making it less of a personal experience, being narrated. The story line is interesting and I like the different angles kept me in tuned til the end. I enjoyed reading this and would like to see you write more.
im commenting as im reading this and o far i do like it
the vietnam war is a very itersting yet difficult topic in itself to write about
the beggining lines of the general are really well put
at first though i thought it was WWII
then found out otherwise
this must be later in the war too because if it was earlier, which im sure you know, the gen ould not have said that
loved the Jesus’s execution bit
great characterization
maybe soldiers in the secret cambodia raids by nixon?
think a follow up to his should be from a us soldier were they colect “trophies” of the vietnamese they killed, ears, heads, etc
vrey well done ending
cynical and ironic
i enjoyed it
It’s pretty good if you just wrote that all in one sitting on impulse. Its entertaining, but there is a lot of stiff analogies that hit every now and then. You should consider a revision before considering it publishable.
Also, The whole “it was all a dream…” twist is extremely played out.
this is good. I would suggest description. The stuff you have is good but i would suggest adding to it and editing to the stuff you already have. I couldn’t really see it. If you do that i think your story will come alive.
I enjoyed reading it, loved the twist that you put on it. It had one typo: the word bwlo-blow but you know that.
This 105 word review has not been unlocked.
Well, you certainly succeed in ‘Mind-fucking the reader’. Not bad, it’s like a darker version of the Short Timers. My only real criticism with this piece is the lack of names through out. Even for it being twisted and cerebally displaying his insanity, it is really hard to follow in parts like: “I looked to my right and the man who was with me was looking straight at me too.” in the context you used it in I had to re-read the sentence twice over to make sure I knew who ‘the man’ was.
It’s pretty powerful, but with some clarity (like names) and some more colorful descriptions (like soldier chain smoking/ shaking hands) I think it could be even better.
Good job!
The imaging was very good, and I felt like I was there the entire time. A few things that I noticed was that there were quite a few grammatical errors, such as a few misplaced words, some words that were missing. Other then that, nice read.
Showing 1 - 9 of 9
Review item
Add to faves
GENERAL
REVIEW QUEUE
Ratings & Rankings
