Knights In Slouch Hats

• Melissa Kugelman, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2011

Single file, the squelch of boots. Battle rifles secured over shoulders by icy, shaking hands. Determined expressions on faces browned with dirt. The sky was stained with Agent Orange.
Some were far ahead, some were far behind, and some were lost in their thoughts of the previous Vietnamese encounter. But it wasn’t over. The Vietnamese had retreated back, but a cunning opponent would trick them. No, it wasn’t over. The urgency was so insistent. Walk faster. Don’t get left behind. Do you want to end up dead?
“Oi, Samuels!” cried the commanding officer.
“Sir?” replied Frankie promptly.
“Come up ‘ere, would you? I need one like you on the front line.”
Frankie Samuels peered across hesitantly at the gouge on John’s arm.
“She’ll be right,” said his mate, noticing Frankie’s reluctance to leave him. “Go on.”
Frankie hurried up beside the colonel.
“Thought you’d like to try it out up here for a bit. I personally prefer it. Y’know, more exciting,” said the colonel, grinning.
The colonel raised his hand, and the marching ceased. They strained their ears hard, listening intently for any signs.Nothing.Their ears rang and the silence made them aware of the humidity squeezing them tight.
A splash of water came from around the bend.
“Stand ready,” hissed Frankie.
Each soldier’s eyes darted between the trees and grass.
A sudden ruckus – the scattering of water, beat of hooves, and howl of rifles. The Vietnamese stormed around. The troops skidded to safety.
Gunfire rang out through the mountains, as did the cry of the soldiers.The colonel and Frankie lay in the rice paddies, aiming for their opponents over the reeds. John scrambled to safety, his heart pounding and mind racing. Frankie searched for him with his eyes, but everywhere he looked, he saw bullets.
“John!”
It was too loud.
“Frankie?” John murmured hoarsely.
John collapsed.
War cries, gunfire, desperate yells.
Frankie spotted the limp body and darted towards it.
“John!”
Frankie spotted the red stain on John’s faded suit of green andtore the sleeve from it. Blood gushed from the wound on his arm.Frankie tried to cover it but the wound was too big.
“Help!” Frankie screamed.
Nobody listened.
“John, can you hear me? Can you hear me?!”
Frankie dragged John back away from the battle.
“Frankie...” John mumbled.
“Water!” Frankie mumbled.
He glared around frantically then spotted John’s supplies.
He dragged himself towards it.He stood on amound; he heard the menacing click scream so quietly from beneath him. His eyes widened. He glared down.
“John…” Frankie murmured. “John! Run!”
John was barely conscious.
“Goddammit, John!”
John began to crawl away, his mind barely registering Frankie’s pleas. He was far enough away. Just far enough so that when Frankie lifted his foot from the mine he barely felt its force.
But he wouldn’t forget the look on Frankie’s face when the mine exploded. He wouldn’t forget the cries of the colonel, the troops and even some Vietnamese soldiers. John wouldn’t forget it…ever.