Vietnam Diary

• Joshua Bishop, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2009

I’ve just killed a boy. Two of my friends were shot dead by him. One of them was my little brother Sam. He said that he surrendered but I was so angry I shot him dead. Only after looking at him a second time did I realise he could not have been any older than 15. I fear what I am becoming. I don’t want to be a monster. All this bloodshed.

I was shot today. Right in the stomach. We were going through a village when one man, clearly angered by our presence, came out of his house with a gun. I was rushed to hospital. Missed all the major organs they said. I’ll be OK in about a week or two. But I don’t want to be. I want to go home. This war…I fear everything. Every night I go to sleep and see all the faces of the people I’ve killed. Particularly that boy. I think I might go insane.

Today I heard about what happened to the people who got to go home. Poor buggers. I don’t know if I want to go home anymore.

The next morning my commander came and told me that I would be fit to fight again soon. Fear gripped me. I told him I didn’t want to fight, to kill, but he just gave me a disgusted look.

I had no choice. I went back into the hostile jungle. Our platoon was sent to one of the villages. Army intelligence had identified the village as hostile - we killed them all. Women and children. Turns out they were innocent. I should just shoot myself now. Get it over with. But whenever I try to do it, I can’t. I don’t want to live but I don’t want to die…I despair.

This will be my last entry. I cannot live with myself any longer. I am ready to shoot myself. But I want whoever is reading this to know why. All I had to do today was sentry duty. Watch over the base with some other soldiers. We were too casual. A whole bunch of enemy soldiers came. We were meant to just shoot them down with the machine gun that was set up. James called me to help with holding the ammo. I was so scared though. I should have just run up to it and held the ammo instead of running away. I was too slow, too pathetic and too scared. I saw James get shot in front of me. His death was my fault. Then, two soldiers burst through the clearing. I shot both of them down and what do you know? They were on my side. My commander hates me now for running away in battle, my brother is dead and I have killed countless innocent people. Can anyone one tell me why I deserve to live? And who started this goddamn war anyway?