meeting on the battlefield. Jason’s personal transformation started in boot camp, where he became accustomed to Army life. It was certainly different from the civilian life he had known in and around Pleasanton, Texas. Basic training was intense, but brief. In a few short weeks he would be shipping out for Viet Nam, where matters would become much, much worse. In Viet Nam, Jason would experience a decent into darkness and chaos. He would experience firsthand the presence of hell.
Boot camp had been extreme in its own way, but overall fairly easy for Jason. Growing up in the hill country, Jason was accustomed to long days filled with exhausting physical labor. As he expected, boot camp was regimented and the Drill Sargent was loud and overbearing. In fact, it seemed like the Drill Sargent was a chronically angry man. There was no sense in talking to him, as asking him questions acted as a trigger that only served to make him angrier. The food was half edible and tasteless, but there was plenty of it to go around. Jason made easy buddies with the other young recruits. He and his friends would drink cheap whiskey whenever they had the chance, and they always looked forward to getting a pass to go into town on a Saturday night. Those were high times when the Army boys came into town, all big balls and liquored up. Women found them exciting to be around, and they could not stop smiling as fantasies whirled quickly through their girlish minds. There is just something about a man in uniform.
In a few short weeks Jason was shipping out to Saigon. He liked being assigned as an infantryman. In fact, he had been singled out as a marksman during training drills in boot camp. He was skilled with a rifle before joining the Army, because he had gone hunting with his father and brothers so many times. Not to mention the hours of target practice out on the land, shooting Coke cans and the like. He understood gun safety and the business end of a rifle. He also had some experience with stalking an elusive buck, or waiting for prey by holding as still as night in a camouflaged blind.
What Jason could not have known was the immense psychological burden of killing other human beings within the pretense of war. Unfortunately, in boot camp there was no preparation for the bloodied quagmire of the killing fields. He was provided a marksman’s rifle equipped with a high powered scope. The rifle had a very long range and was incredibly accurate. Laden with gear and ammunition, he was primed to be a killing machine. The only thing missing was the lasting disconnect from emotion, which was expedient to accomplishing the unspeakable.
He had only been in Viet Nam for a few days when his squadron was repositioned via helicopter transport, to a location near the Cambodian border. The encampment was filled with the noise of Huey’s making their distinctive chopping sound as they flew in soldiers and supplies. The reverberating sound was like the heartbeat of a giant dragonfly, coming and going from the base camp. Jason sensed an undeniable air of tense excitement in the bivouac and there was talk of Viet Cong soldiers in the area.
Jason’s first encounter with the gripping intensity of war was night patrol on his first foray in the field. He was geared up and ready to go with the other men in his detachment. Stepping out from his camp’s position he quickly realized that raw experience would be his closest companion and his greatest teacher. Deep into the night they progressed, as a waning moon set slowly into the West. Thick jungle underbrush hindered every step, while rivulets of sweat ran down his neck and back. He and the other men slogged through rotten marshes until their boots were nothing but wet leather tied to their feet. They had been moving forward in this way for many hours without a break. Doubt found its way into Jason’s mind. Where was he? Did the Field Sargent or any of the other soldiers know how to get back to camp? What was the objective of this night patrol?
Something seemed wrong. His heart was pounding and he felt very uneasy. Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Without warning, a shot rang out from somewhere in front of his patrol. He and the others hit the ground and waited. The Field Sargent yelled out, “Keep down!” He heard a man cry out loudly in pain. A Viet Cong sniper’s bullet had found its mark. The cries of the wounded soldier sent fear into every pour of Jason’s body. His pulse was pounding in his ears. He had fallen into muddy slim, but reflexively he kept his gun out of the water. Drilled into muscle memory at boot camp, he knew that if a soldier is to survive, his weapon must survive first. He was face down in the black mud, overcome by waves of gut wrenching fear. At that moment, Jason clenched his teeth and made a determined choice to move forward and kill enemy soldiers, if that is what it took to survive this wretched night.
He pulled up courage from a place deep inside himself that he had never known. In that extreme moment something happened inside that transformed human fear into animal instincts. It was as if a switch had been flipped, turning him away from wanting to run, towards wanting to fight the enemy. The hardened edge of needing to kill the enemy to survive had awakened. His determination was unwavering. In that moment he became incredibly focused. Every muscle in his body became taught with anticipation of the task at hand. In the darkness Jason saw a small movement in a tree about 150 yards ahead of his group. He instantly knew that it was a sniper positioned about half way up in the limbs of a tall tree. He made note of the exact spot where he had seen the slight movement and readied himself.
Lying belly down on the ground he cradled the marksman’s rifle and felt reassured. With surgical precision he steadied the high powered scope towards the inevitable target. Out of chaos, his mind became totally focused on correctly aiming his rifle. He inhaled deeply and removed the safety latch from the gun. Exhaling, he slowly squeezed the delicate trigger. The shot rang out into the dark night and Jason felt a strong kick from the butt of the rifle, shoving him deeper into the black mud. All the while, Jason kept his unwavering gaze on that spot in the tree, which stood like a frightening tower above his fellowmen. It was no surprise to Jason, to hear the cracking of tree limbs, as the target of his rifle’s aim fell deftly as a dark shape, towards the accepting ground. There was a dull thud as the felled enemy hit the ground, followed by a great silence.
By this time the moon had set. Darkness had now descended upon darkness. The men waited motionless for what seemed like past forever. With aching bodies and weary minds they waited, not knowing if another sniper was in the trees. Finally, the first rays of daybreak shown as a dim rose colored glow on the Eastern horizon. Just then the Field Sargent yelled out, “Fall back!” ordering the men to retreat from their position. Apparently the Field Sargent, who was the most experienced man in the group, knew that it was safe to move back towards their encampment. The infantry detachment had not lost a man that night. One soldier had been hit by the sniper’s bullet. Luckily, for that young man it was a through and through wound to the thigh. Though limping and in pain, the wounded soldier was still able to walk and move with the group back towards camp, being supported by a fellow soldier at each arm. For others in this misshapen war the wounds of the battlefield would be far more devastating.
After returning to camp the men were far past exhaustion and ready for sleep. The Field Sargent approached Jason with a wry smile on his face and asked, “Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Jason pawed the ground with one foot and said something about hunting squirrels in the woods back home. It was obvious that Jason had earned the Field Sargent’s respect, which was a great relief. He and the others were exhausted and famished. He was able to eat a little with his fellow soldiers before retiring to his assigned tent. Relieved of his heavy gear, lying on his Army cot seemed like heaven and felt safe. However, Jason’s brain was turning over and over the events of the night before, as if a movie was projecting the events on a screen in his mind. He could not turn off the movie, as it continued to play on and on. He remembered having a small bottle of cheap whiskey in his locker, which helped him fall into the release of sleep, restless though it may be.
After this experience Jason became vigilant of everything that moved around him. It seemed like his brain and senses were on high alert at all times. It became crystal clear to
him that life and limb were at stake. Mission after mission, the task at hand was basic survival, which he approached with both self-confidence and dread. As if that were not enough, his mental and emotional states were further complicated by the feeling of having darkness inside his chest. This was something that Jason had never experienced in the past. At various times during the day and especially at night, Jason could not shake the uncomfortable feeling of darkness within the center of his chest. It felt like a black emptiness. Within the feeling of emptiness was something both gruesome and frightening. It was a place that he wanted to avoid, yet there was no means of escape. Jason could no more escape that hideous feeling than he could flee his own shadow at high Noon.
He would awaken at night held in the grip of an intense fear. The nightmares of war seemed to be getting worse with time. He realized that the empty feeling in his chest was actually a feeling of dread and strangulation in his heart. No amount of alcohol could make those bad feelings go away. In Jason’s heart it felt like his very soul was being