The eternal bridge

[Harakiri]

PROLOUGE:

 

 

 

The foxhole was large enough for five people. With ten people crammed in it was dangerous. Especially in the lush jungles of Vietnam. All ten men were armed and ready, some staring at pictures of their families, whom they had not seen in years. War after war and the men in the United States military would put their lives on the line to protect the better good.

 

 

 

Many good men had died so far, at the hands of the Viet Kong. They were vicious. Some of the men in the foxhole had seen their best friends head explode by the gunshot of one of these men. Not men, animals. Deadly killing machines.

 

 

 

The men in the foxhole could hear footsteps heading their way. They aimed their rifles toward the sound. Leaves rustled and branches broke. The footsteps grew louder. Someone was running. Louder. Sweat trickled down the mens foreheads. Louder.

 

 

 

Then, a U.S army man, a sergeant presumably, appeared through the trees. The men in the foxhole motioned for him to come in. He looked panicked. He looked behind him and a sudden burst of bullets penetrated his skin. He waved like a rag doll as bullet after bullet from men with machine guns entered his flesh. Blood flew everywhere and suddenly, the shooting stopped. The body of the sergeant fell.

 

 

 

Suddenly, a whirring could be heard. A slight wind picked up. The leaves gently whipped around. The wind picked up. Some trees seemed to be shaking. It was gradually getting faster and the whirring louder.

 

 

 

One of the men stood up from the foxhole and started to run into the jungle.

 

 

 

"APACHE!" He yelled.

 

 

 

The men in the foxhole then saw the black body of the Apache helicopter. The men scurried out of the foxhole as the ground burst. The machine guns of the Apache destroyed everything. A tree fell and the men started to panic more and more. One took out a pistol from a holster on his hip and tried to shoot at the 'copter.

 

 

 

"NO!" Yelled one of the other men. The man did not seem to hear. He continued shooting at the 'copter.

 

 

 

The Apache turned around and started shooting its machine guns into the jungle. The man continued shooting his pistol wildly. A Viet Kong opened the side door of the Apache and pulled a shotgun from his back. He shot it at the man and the pistol shots stopped instantly. His body slumped to the ground.

 

 

 

The nine men left ran for it. The General in the group, General Frank Hayes, pulled his radio from his belt.

 

 

 

Static. Then: "Who there?"

 

 

 

"General Hayes. Send a rendezvous squad and a couple choppers, an Apache is killing off my squad. Send rendezvous to the street to the north of the jungle."

 

 

 

"Copy. Be at your location in a couple minutes. Sending choppers."

 

 

 

The general put his radio back and continued to run, his heavy combat boots breaking every twig in his trek.

 

 

 

He heard the Apache fire again.

 

 

 

A shrill scream.

 

 

 

Oh god, he thought, we are all dead!

 

 

 

He thought of his daughter. He thought of his wife. He thought of his mother, dying of cancer. He thought of his dad, who died in the second World War. He thought of all these people and tears [puncture]ed his eyes. He had to escape. He had left his daughter when she was six. She was eleven right now. He never said goodbye.

 

 

 

He was not going to say goodbye by dying.

 

 

 

He ran, pushing himself until he could not take it anymore. More machine gun fire and another scream.

 

 

 

The sun beat down on him, another burden that was not helping him get to the rendezvous faster.

 

 

 

Then another problem arose.

 

 

 

The sound of many footsteps behind him and guns flaring wildly. A bullet shot past the general. The General panicked again. He brought his rifle to his hands and continued his trek.

 

 

 

His heart pounded. He was getting heat exhaustion.

 

 

 

A nearly deafening explosion. The black Apache was in flames and flew right over him, hitting the ground about twenty feet away. The explosion of the impact of the Apache to the ground threw the General off his feet. Shrapnel pierced his skin. He felt warm liquid soaking his arm. He looked and coughed up blood. The shrapnel had pierced his arm badly.

 

 

 

The footsteps behind him stopped and screams could be heard. People were shooting at each other. A U.S Helicopter flew over the General.

 

 

 

The General hauled himself to his feet and holding his arm, ran. He could see the rendezvous ahead. He approached slower, relieved at his luck.

 

 

 

He was grabbed by some medics and sent into a medical truck.

 

 

 

"Christ, we're gonna have to do some major surgery on your arm. Some of this metal is wedged into your flesh really tight."

 

 

 

The car was driving off.

 

 

 

"We'll get the stuff from our medical boxes and you can get onto the table." he pointed at a table in the middle of the truck.

 

 

 

"Well, what type blood do you ha..." The car lurched as an explosion was heard. The doors of the truck opened. The truck slid sideways and the General fell out...he saw what hit the truck, and one of them were coming at him.

 

 

 

He said a quick prayer.

 

 

 

"Caves called mines

 

my stuff is mine

 

and then there are the mines

 

that are the end of the line"

[Harakiri]

Working on ProjectOnyx, so can't write too much on here. One of my stories will be on the Project Onyx paper eventually. And its a new story!