Fighting For A Future

This is a historical fiction story that I had to write for my English class last year. I really love this story and I think it really shows how I have grown as a writer.

Fighting For A Future

I flinch as a branch snaps underneath my feet. I know it’s dangerous to be out here, but I need to find something to eat. It is January now and there is not much rice left. This always happens near this time of the year, we won’t be able to harvest the rice again until March (Le Ly Hayslip). Until then, we are always hungry. I let a tear slide down my cheek as I think about all of my responsibilities back at home. I don’t want to have to face going back home, sleeping through another night alone, without the feeling of safety that comes with knowing my parents are there with me. I try to pull myself together, I know I need to get back to the house soon; it’s not safe for me to be out here when the American soldiers could be anywhere. I give up on looking for any source of food and sit down on the ground next to the small river that runs through our village just outside of Saigon (Rabiah’s Hijrah). I hear another branch snap, but this time it wasn’t me. I get up quickly and push myself against a tree to try to keep from being seen. I keep my breathing shallow so whoever is there will not hear me. I hear the soft thuds of footsteps get closer, but I don’t dare to look at what is coming.          “Who’s there?” the deep voice of a man with an unmistakably American accent calls out. “I know you’re here, I could hear you crying.” Stupid! I am so stupid to have come out here; I should have known someone would find me.                        “Just come out, I won’t shoot.” I stay pressed against the tree, silently praying the American soldier will go away, but instead I hear the sound of his footsteps coming dangerously closer to where I am. I only recognize a few of the words he is saying. I am so angry at myself for not paying more attention when my dad tried to teach me English.                                                                                        “Come on, I know you are there.” The tone of his voice is gentle, but I can’t trust this American boy.                                                                                                               “Come on, I won’t hurt you.” It’s my first day in the war, it’s so much worse than I thought it would be. I can’t stand to see all of the dead people, no one thinking that maybe they are innocent. I had to get out of the base in Bien Hoa. I didn’t want to get drunk like all of the other soldiers in my base (Herring). I decided to just walk around a little; I knew it was dangerous, but it was my escape. The other men, they don’t show their emotions, they all act like they are so tough and strong. But I know inside, they must feel just like I do. It’s like I’m in a nightmare, and I cannot wake up. The images of the dead bodies, little children with no choice but to fight for their lives, young men just like me, fighting for what their country is supposed to believe in haunt me already. As I walked silently around in the woods, I could hear the sound of crying, silent crying, the kind that happens when you have cried so much that no more tears can come. I know I shouldn’t have, but I stepped closer and a branch broke beneath my feet. The crying immediately stopped. I know who ever it is, is still there, they didn’t have time to run away, I would have seen them. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m leaving now, don’t worry.” I turn around and start to walk away.                                                           The cautious sound his footsteps make becomes quieter as he starts to get further away. Should I trust him? The tone of his voice sounds calm, and safe, it doesn’t sound like he will hurt me. But I can’t be sure. I step out from behind the tree, and look at the back of the strong American soldier that could easily take my life away just like all of the other lives he has probably already taken. All I can see is the back of his green uniform. His hair is cut short underneath his protective helmet. He starts to turn his head back in the direction where I am. I quickly dart behind the tree, hoping that I have been able to escape his sight again, but it is too late, he has seen me. I hear him come closer, faster this time, almost like he’s running. He rushes to where I am behind the tree. He looks at me, his eyes scanning over my face, then down to my hands, checking to see if I have any weapons on me. He says something I can’t understand, man I wish I had listened to my father; I only know a few phrases in English. He takes something out of his pocket; it is food, a ration from his base. He holds it out to me, in a way of saying that I can trust him. He must be able to see the fear I’m trying to hide in my eyes.                                                                                                                                                                  “English?” he asks. I shake my head no. He takes off his gun and sets it down near his feet to show that he doesn’t want to hurt me.                                                                                                                                                                            “I am Carlton.” He says slowly, pointing to himself as he says it. I understand he is telling me his name.                                                                                                       “Kim.” I respond, also pointing to myself (Behind the Name). He keeps talking to me, trying to talk in simple words, making over exaggerated gestures to help me understand. It’s a nice escape, staring into his innocent blue eyes, shining, unlike the weary, dark eyes of the other men. He is nice to me, he doesn’t act like the other soldiers, the big, dirty ones that come through our towns, fighting against us and killing the ones we love the most. I hear a gunshot in the distance, I should really get back home, this is dangerous.                       “I…go.” I try to say something that will make sense. I point behind me, then turn around to leave, hoping Carlton will understand what I’m trying to say.                                                                                                                         “Wait!” I say a little too loudly as she starts to walk away. She turns her head to face me, a look of desperation on her face. I can tell she really wants to leave.                                                                                                                                      “Come back, tomorrow, here.” I try to say it so she will understand, but I can tell she doesn’t. I point to the tree. Then I point to both of us, and the tree again. I point to my ration; which is now in her hands, and try to motion that I will bring more. She holds it up in question, obviously confused, I point to both of us and the tree again, and she starts to understand. After a few seconds of hesitation, she nods her head yes and turns to walk away again. This time I let her go, and decide that I should get back to the base anyway, before someone notices I am missing. When I get back the other soldiers are asleep, I sneak over to my where I sleep and lay down, it takes me forever to fall asleep because my head is flooded with images of her, the way she was so naturally beautiful, the way we were able to communicate even with the barriers of language and having to fight for opposite sides in the war being put in our way.                                                                                                                                                                                                 The next night cannot come soon enough. I go about my daily chores, making supplies for the soldiers, and trying to find any rice that my parents might have stored for this time of the year. I can’t stop zoning out on the image his innocent eyes, the way they shined so bright, like the stars in the sky at night. All I can see is Carlton, the charming American soldier that wants to see me tonight, that wants to help me. All I can picture is looking into his shining blue eyes again, with the feeling of safety surrounding us. I know it is dangerous, but with him I feel safe. Late in the afternoon I walk into my dad’s office to see if he has any English books. I haven’t been in his office in a couple of weeks; but it looks just like it always has, books, papers and pencils everywhere. It looks like he is only taking a break from writing, and that he will be returning soon to start working on his stories again. I wish it was that simple. I look through his English dictionaries trying to find words I might be able to use with Carlton tonight.                                                                              I wait until my comrades are too drunk to notice that I’m gone before sneaking off the base and into the words, heading to where I met Kim last night. I make my way through the woods with an extra ration in my pocket. I find her sitting next to the same tree she hid behind last night.                                                                                                                                                                                  “Hey.” I say. She turns toward me and nods, then stands up to face me. I hand her the ration.                                                               “Cam on ban” Kim says with a grateful smile (Google translate). I have learned that it means thank you in Vietnamese, it’s just one of the few words that every soldier knows.                                                                                                                                             “In English, you say thank you.” I explain. She thinks about what I said for a few minutes, but only shrugs.                                        “Thank you.” I say really slowly, like I’m speaking to a young child. I really want her to understand me. I take the ration back, give it to her, and point at her as a way of explanation.                                                                                                                                “English.” I say as a way of trying to explain it. She attempts to say it, but her Vietnamese accent is very apparent. After she says “I…go”. I can tell she’s embarrassed that she doesn’t know how to say it; she is struggling, wishing she could ask how to say it, but she can’t. “I have to go,” Again I say it slowly, hoping she will understand what I’m trying to teach her. I motion that I’m going to leave while I say it.                                                                                                                                                                                      “I have to go?” She stumbles on the words a little but the happiness that she knows how to say it is obvious on her face. I nod, letting her know she said it right.                                                                                                                                                                        “I have to go.” She says again, more clearly this time, I motion that I will bring her food again tomorrow and we agree to meet again at the same tree.                                                                                                              We go on like that for a while, each night, we meet at the same tree, he gives me an extra ration, and we talk about simple things. I have learned a few English words from him, and he has learned a few Vietnamese words from me. I can say thank you and tell him when I have to go. He can say goodbye. I know how to say how I feel; if my day has been good or bad, and he can do the same. When I sneak out again on Saturday night, Carlton is already there waiting for me. He hands me the ration.                                             “How are you?” He asks.                                                                                                                                                                      “Good, and you?” I respond, proud of my English. He says he’s good, but something seems to be bothering him. We continue on, trying to talk about simple things, I’m picking up English faster than I thought I would, but it is still a struggle, and we have to gesture a lot. If there wasn’t the difference in the language we speak, I don’t think that we would ever run out of things to say.                                                                                                 “Hey!” says a very deep voice, speaking English, another American soldier. “Go! Leave!” Carlton whisper-yells to me. I do what he says. I run. I don’t think I have ever run as fast in my life. I can hear my heart thumping against my rib cage as I go quickly back to my house. I lock the door and turn off all of the lights.  I pray that the other soldier won’t find me, and that Carlton won’t break my trust. I am not able to fall asleep, so I stay awake, and stare out the window into the eerie darkness, looking for any sign that they followed me home.                                                         The back of a gun is pressed against my back, my heart races as I try to turn my head to see who is there.                                          “What do you think you are doing out here?” one of my comrades is standing behind me; he takes his gun off my back as he asks the question. “This is dangerous! And you’re putting me in danger! Someone noticed you were gone and I was sent to find you!”                                         “I…” I trail off; there is no way to explain what I’ve been doing.                   “Look kid, I get it, this war is hard, death isn’t pretty, but you can’t just go and leave the base any time you want to. Find another way to deal with it. Let’s go.” We walk back together, and the whole time we are silent, it’s a walk of shame back to the base. I am told to stay on the base, and not to leave unless directed. I tell them I understand, but it’s a lie. I still want to go back to see Kim again tomorrow. I need her to know that I didn’t plan this, that she can trust me, I didn’t give her away.                                                  I wake up the next morning on the floor next to the window. I don’t think I have ever felt so alone. I wish that my parents were here. I would tell them everything, how I should’ve listened. Americans are bad, they were right, I was stupid and I came too close to death to just forget about it and move on. I would tell them it was a mistake. They would understand and embrace me in a warm, reassuring hug, and tell me that everything will be alright. But they aren’t here anymore, and I am alone in this empty house. Around every corner I see a shadow, and I constantly hear noises, but when I look, nothing is there. I can still feel how scared I was deep down inside me, it won’t go away. I think I will be stuck with the paralyzed feeling of being scared for the rest of my life. The only other time I have come close to being that scared, I was too in shock to feel anything. I just hope that Carlton didn’t tell the other soldier what he has been doing. I could tell he was scared by the tone of his voice. I could see it in his eyes too, they widened, the shiny blue filled with fear, like a young child awaiting punishment after doing something they knew  was wrong. I am too afraid to go out in the woods again tonight, and I decide to stay home, eating only a small bit of rice for dinner. It’s only been one night and I already miss the rations. There is a piece of me, deep inside, that is fearless; part of me that sneaks into the woods tonight to see Carlton with his shiny blue eyes, and exotic face. But that part of me is not strong enough, and I fall asleep hungry and scared, wishing for everything to be ok again.                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Last night Kim did not show up, I understand why though, it must have been terrifying to see that soldier come out of the woods. But I need her to know she can trust me, it wasn’t set up. I really care about her, and I hope that after this war is done, we can put aside our pasts and actually get together without having to worry. When I walk out to that tree again tonight, I am filled with joy to see her there. She is sitting against the tree, holding something in her hands. For a second I worry that she has brought a weapon with her, but when I walk closer I realize she is holding an English dictionary in her hands. She speaks without looking up to see who it is,                                                                                                                                                                                                              “I have to leave,” she says. “It’s full of danger.” She points to the ration, “No more.” I know that this is exactly what she doesn’t want, but when she stands up and looks up at me, I can see the sadness in her dark brown eyes, and the only thing I can do is wrap my arms around her waist and press my lips to hers. I expect to be pushed away, but instead she drapes her arms around my neck and kisses me back. In that kiss, I can feel everything that has happened in her past; the sadness, the loss, the fear, everything we can’t say in words is said in that kiss. My cheeks begin to dampen with her tears as I pull away and hug her tight.                                                                                                                                                                                       My emotions get the best of me as tears stream down my cheeks. Carlton’s arms around my waist feel strong and protective, we stand there hugging and he lets me cry for a while before he pulls away and looks into my eyes, concerned.                                                                                                                                                                      “What’s wrong?” he asks, I notice his eyes aren’t shining like they used to, they have already been dulled by images from the war.                                                                                                                                                                     “My parent’s,” I say, “They are killed, from American’s.” Silence fills the woods around us as I am thrown back into the memory. I am walking with my parents down the street; it is the day of my 16^th birthday. We are taking a walk to celebrate, something we can rarely do because of the war. Someone steps onto the street in front of us; a tall American soldier with dark eyes, his uniform so dirty I could barely tell it was supposed to be green(Aborn). I will never know why, but my dad reaches to pull something out of his pocket. The soldier’s eyes widen, he thinks my dad is pulling out a weapon. He raises his gun, “No-“, my mom starts, but it is too late. Boom! Boom! My parents drop to the ground beside me, two hard thuds onto the ground. Two quick shots were all it took from the soldier, two presses on the trigger, and two lives now taken away. I panic thinking I am next, but nothing happens. I look up at the soldier, he is aiming his gun at my chest, but I am too in shock from the fact that my parents were standing next to me moments earlier, but are now dead on the ground to be scared. The soldier’s dark brown eyes lock with mine and he lowers his gun. He stares at me for a few seconds before turning and running the other way. I fall to the ground next to my parents, still too in shock to do anything but sit there, in the middle of the street, in the puddle of blood coming from my parents bodies, watching, as the last bits of life slowly drain out of them. I feel as though I am trapped in an invisible box, chocking on the tears that will not come out. I will always remember the feeling of that soldiers gaze on me, the way he had so much power over me, he could have easily killed me. I was out in the open with nowhere to run. I will always remember how he killed my parents. But I will also remember how he did not kill me. Neither I nor Carlton says anything for a while.                                                                     “This war….” He starts; he is trying to find the right words, even though I will not understand them. I can also tell he is fighting back tears. I’ve only seen one other man with tears in his eyes, and that was while he lay on the ground, dying a slow, painful death.                                                                                                                                       “I’m so sorry… about your family. It’s so hard to know who the bad guys are, the Viet Cong, they are made up of children, and women, as well as men, it’s so hard to know….and sometimes you just have to keep yourself safe(Aborn). That’s all it is here, they say we are fighting against communism, to help Vietnam get free elections, but when we are out there on the battlefield, we are just fighting for our safety, for our families, for the promise that we will return home someday. We are fighting for an end to the war. We are fighting for a future, for love and happiness, for a marriage and kids and growing old together. We just want to keep ourselves alive and safe you know?” I only understand a few of the words he is saying, but I can tell from his expression, the way his cheeks are now damp with tears, his shoulders slightly hunched, almost like he is ashamed of something, that what he is saying is important. I can tell he’s trying to get me to understand something, and somehow, through the deep sadness of his voice, he gets through to me. I understand the hardship of being a soldier and not knowing who the bad guys are. I can see the other side for once.                                                                        I don’t think I have ever cried this hard. I can’t stop the tears; they just keep flowing like a river of misery. I know Kim didn’t understand even half of what I just told her, but I could see in her eyes that something clicked. She might not have understood the words I was saying, but she definitely understood the way I am feeling. She looks up at me now and I know she understands that in the split second you have to decide, you choose the only thing you have worth fighting for, your future, the possibility that you will return home, and have a life beyond this war, assurance that your family will see you again, alive. I give Kim the ration that I brought for her and she puts it in her bag.                 

“Thank you”, she says. She raises herself onto her toes and kisses me on the cheek, then turns and walks back toward her house. When I return to my base I receive orders. Tomorrow a ceasefire will be held, because of a Vietnamese holiday called Tet. There will be no fighting tomorrow, a rush of relief floods into my body as I lay down. Even if it is only one day, I am thankful for it. One day that I do not have to worry about killing another innocent person, one day that I can be a normal 19 year old boy, playing games like volleyball or cards. One day where I don’t have to become a man, with responsibilities and orders to kill anyone and everyone. One day, where I don’t have to be scared for my life.                      

The next morning I walk out the front door and start to head across the street. I need to bring the supplies I’ve made for the soldiers to my neighbor’s house. Today is Tuesday, but not a normal Tuesday because it is the Tet holiday, what I do today will influence the year to come (What Day of the Week). It is supposed to be a day of kindness, of peace, but I can hear the heavy sound of footsteps marching down the street. The Viet Cong is attacking villages. It’s supposed to catch the enemy off guard (Estabrook). I see American soldiers coming down the street, no Vietnamese people to be seen except for me. I panic as they come closer and try to hide in the bushes next to my house, so the soldiers won’t see me. I know that if I run back inside, they will see me and shoot. I stay crouched down as the first bunch of soldiers move past. I look up as they walk by. One soldier turns his head and sees me. He reaches for the trigger of his gun but stops. I think about trying to run, but that will make me seem like a threat. The soldier looks at my hands, the supplies! I realize he must think it’s a weapon! My heart races, as he raises his gun, I open my hand to show that what I have is not a weapon but it is too late. I hear the boom of the shot being fired; I look at the soldier one more time. The last thing I see is the shining blue eyes that could only belong to one person. I feel a sharp pai-.                                                                                               

I am relieved that I do not have to fight tonight. It has been a long day of unexpected fighting; it was supposed to be a ceasefire because of the Vietnam holiday, Tet, but the Viet Cong started attacking villages early this morning. I am also relieved because this means I will still be able to see Kim tonight. I sneak an extra ration and slip into the woods unnoticed. I am extra cautious tonight because of the fighting going on nearby (Le Ly Hayslip). When I get to our tree, Kim is not there. Thinking she is just running late I sit down at the tree and wait. But after about twenty minutes, Kim still has not come. I begin to worry, thinking about how we went through a town nearby today, and many civilians were injured. I decide to walk further into the woods and end up in a small village that looks very similar to the one I marched down today with the other soldiers. I walk up the street a little, looking for any sign of Kim. I see a woman sleeping against the side of a house and decide to ask her if she knows where Kim might be. Once I get closer to the woman, I can see that she looks a lot like Kim. I don’t know why, but this comforts me. I kneel down next to the woman and realize that it is Kim, but she is covered in blood. She is dead…Then it hits me, the soldiers and I march through the town, looking for any signs of danger. I see a movement out of the corner of my eye. There is something up ahead. There are too many bushes to make out who it is, but I can tell the person is trying to hide. I look around at the other soldiers, they don’t see the person. Why would that person be hiding, unless planning to attack us? We get closer, and I can see that it is a woman. She is holding something in one of her hands. Why else would she be hiding? What else could she be holding besides a weapon? My brain fails to think of any answers besides that she is planning to throw a bomb. My body reacts before my mind can register what is happening. I raise my gun and aim for the woman. I hesitate, what if she is innocent? It’s not worth the risk. If she isn’t innocent, and she throws a bomb, I won’t have the one thing I am fighting for; the promise of a future beyond the war. I aim my gun at the woman and shoot. BOOM! The gunshot echoes all around me.                

“Oh my God.” I say quietly at first, “Oh my God!” it comes out more panicked this time. “No. No. No, no, no. No!”   My head falls into her hair as I sob. It is my worst nightmare coming true. I killed my first real love. I check her hands; all she has is supplies for the Vietnamese soldiers, not a grenade like I had thought.  I killed an innocent woman.                                   “Oh my God.” I say again as I pick her up and carry her inside her house. I lay her down on her bed and tuck her in. She is just sleeping, she isn’t dead. I try to believe that but I will always know it is not true. I wish there was something I could do, something that will show I will never forget her, to show that I will always love her. I take off one of my dog tags and put it around her neck, now we both have one. I will probably be questioned about why I don’t have both, but this way Kim and I have a connection.                                                                                                          

“Tam biet.” I say as I kiss her forehead one last time (Google Translate). Goodbye is another one of the words I learned from her. I study her face for a few minutes, trying to imprint it into my mind before I leave, I do not want to forget her.                               

“Tam biet.” I say again. Then I turn around, walk into the woods, and sneak back to the base one last time.

Reviews

[bookworm0812]

I freaking love this so much! You submitted it for my contest, but I wanted you to know I saw it, even though it was submitted so long ago, and I really like it. I don't think it is the right time period for the contest, though, as it is the Vietnam War, and my contest centers around the 1800's. If you would like to submit another entry for my contest, you are able to, but let's go back to the story, BECAUSE I ADORED IT.

I really liked the ending of it. It was so startling, and I think it was a very good testament to how powerful the rules of war and the rules about your surroundings, affect the way people fall in love and control the way they love others. I also really enjoyed the cultural difference, since that is the style in which I write, and I really like the struggle that ensued between the two lovers. And it wasn't a story that had two people that you KNEW were going to be in love. It just kind of happened, which was really refreshing.