I laid there breathing heavily. I clutched that little medal close to my heart. The cold sweat on my body was making my clothes stick to my skin, silently I prayed. "Sweet Mary, help me."
My name is Richard Colins, private in the US military, I was stationed in Vietnam at the time, and one moment caused my life to flash before my very eyes.
I stood at the lines, the gunfire was deafing, in the chaos and confusion I barely knew what was happening. Suddenly a blinding pain shot up my leg, the warm sticky blood ran down, my knee buckled under me and I collapsed. I laid there, trying to understand what just happened as the gun contiuned to roar about me. Slowly I crawled under the heavy under brush of the jungle, doing what seemed natural, I ripped part of my shirt off, and binded my leg, trying to stop the flow of blood. Slowly the gunfire ceased, and I began that long cruel game known as waiting. There I laid, under those thick vines and heavy brush, praying my life wouldn't end in this land so far from where I called home. Praying my life would be spared, just long enough to see that dear family I left behind, that young woman who wore my ring on her finger. I closed my eyes, picturing her sweet face. Suddenly my eyes snapped open, branches crunched under heavy army boots. Could my troops have found me so fast? I nearly threw cation to the wind and dragged myself from my hiding spot when I heard those strange voices thick with that unknown accent. I quickly said a prayer, and moved farther under the brush, they stood so close I could have reached my hand out and touched their legs. My hair stood on end. What if they discovered me? With my knee most likely shattered from the bullent I could niether run or put up a fight. Would my family's only knowledge of me was an missing in action letter? After ten long antognizing minutes, they conutined on their way, leaving me hoping and praying that the next soliders to come along would be my own. As their footsteps faded away I finally dared to breath once again. .
After two long hours of clutching that medal and praying, my brain was begining to fade. I closed my eyes, faint with loss of blood abd losing hope. The sound of men making their way through the brush was dully relized, I didn't even have the strentgh left to hope. Silently I prepared myself. This was the end for me. I thought, that girl was conutine to never see me again, as I said this to myself I heard voices. At first I didn't care, but then something dawned on me, those familiar accents, it was Amercian! Those were my men, looking for me, atleast that's what I hoped. I scrambled out of the brush as fast as I could, loss of blood and relief left me weak and shaking, laughing like a mad man. Admist the strange and shocking looks I recieved from my comrades, there were a few laughs and cheers. In a makeshift litter I was carried back to base, as soon as I was well enough to travel I was givin an honorable discharge on medical reasons. After a long recovery I married the girl of my dreams, whose letters kept me fighting on.
I gave that little medal away to someone else in need one day, and I hope they might do the same. I'll never forget the day I thought the last thing I would rest my eyes on would be the little Mircleous Medal.
Sweet Mary, help us in the hour of our need.
(To be continued)
My name is Richard Colins, private in the US military, I was stationed in Vietnam at the time, and one moment caused my life to flash before my very eyes.
I stood at the lines, the gunfire was deafing, in the chaos and confusion I barely knew what was happening. Suddenly a blinding pain shot up my leg, the warm sticky blood ran down, my knee buckled under me and I collapsed. I laid there, trying to understand what just happened as the gun contiuned to roar about me. Slowly I crawled under the heavy under brush of the jungle, doing what seemed natural, I ripped part of my shirt off, and binded my leg, trying to stop the flow of blood. Slowly the gunfire ceased, and I began that long cruel game known as waiting. There I laid, under those thick vines and heavy brush, praying my life wouldn't end in this land so far from where I called home. Praying my life would be spared, just long enough to see that dear family I left behind, that young woman who wore my ring on her finger. I closed my eyes, picturing her sweet face. Suddenly my eyes snapped open, branches crunched under heavy army boots. Could my troops have found me so fast? I nearly threw cation to the wind and dragged myself from my hiding spot when I heard those strange voices thick with that unknown accent. I quickly said a prayer, and moved farther under the brush, they stood so close I could have reached my hand out and touched their legs. My hair stood on end. What if they discovered me? With my knee most likely shattered from the bullent I could niether run or put up a fight. Would my family's only knowledge of me was an missing in action letter? After ten long antognizing minutes, they conutined on their way, leaving me hoping and praying that the next soliders to come along would be my own. As their footsteps faded away I finally dared to breath once again. .
After two long hours of clutching that medal and praying, my brain was begining to fade. I closed my eyes, faint with loss of blood abd losing hope. The sound of men making their way through the brush was dully relized, I didn't even have the strentgh left to hope. Silently I prepared myself. This was the end for me. I thought, that girl was conutine to never see me again, as I said this to myself I heard voices. At first I didn't care, but then something dawned on me, those familiar accents, it was Amercian! Those were my men, looking for me, atleast that's what I hoped. I scrambled out of the brush as fast as I could, loss of blood and relief left me weak and shaking, laughing like a mad man. Admist the strange and shocking looks I recieved from my comrades, there were a few laughs and cheers. In a makeshift litter I was carried back to base, as soon as I was well enough to travel I was givin an honorable discharge on medical reasons. After a long recovery I married the girl of my dreams, whose letters kept me fighting on.
I gave that little medal away to someone else in need one day, and I hope they might do the same. I'll never forget the day I thought the last thing I would rest my eyes on would be the little Mircleous Medal.
Sweet Mary, help us in the hour of our need.
(To be continued)
By Rose
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