Roger Wilco

ROGER WILCO

Until now, I’d lost all hope…

…After all, any hope I had, or we had for that matter, had just swirled down the proverbial tidy bowl of life as we hunkered down in this man made hell hole!  We had called in our position just moments before our communication was destroyed.  The PRC77 had a hole through the middle of it the size of my fist, ending any chance of help short of a miracle…I was damn sure of that!

Most of my squad had managed to survive their tour of duty thus far but little did we know that was about to change… 

Unknowingly we had just stumbled into our own private version of hell when SPC Diego, our point man, tripped the wire that unleashed a torrent of ordinance down upon us from the hillside.  The initial blast separated Diego’s spirit, and no doubt his tortured soul from his body which had been eviscerated by one our own claymores turned against us.  All I could think of was how in the hell could he have missed that wire…he was one of the best point men I've ever had the honor of serving with!  But there was no time for that now…

In less time than it took for my soul to scream out ‘dear God have mercy on us’…AK’s, a variety of antiquated but still deadly machine guns, and mortar rounds had taken out two thirds of our squad before we even knew what hit us. Dusk had settled in as we lay prone, entrenched in this hot, humid, mosquito infested jungle, with no way to call in air support or medavacs!

Damn it all to hell! ‘How did we ever end up in this nightmare?’ There were four of us left with a pulse, but SPC Beckles was losing blood fast and ironically, he was our medic! We patched him up the best we could, shot him up with morphine and placed a tourniquet above his left knee…the rest of his leg was gone. 

 Hell, I remember plenty of tight situations where a short prayer offered up at least a shred of hope, but what I couldn’t get past was the apparent certainty that this was it, our last day on earth. What had been a search and destroy mission had morphed into a desperate struggle for survival!

A quick check… using a pre-established code, confirmed that SGT Jordan and PFC Ramos were set up in a defensive position about fifteen feet back at my five and seven o’clock.  Not absolutely sure what caused the VC to stop the bloody onslaught.  Most likely it was the reduced visibility as night fell.  Of course we were not even willing to even twitch a muscle…unless we thought there was a chance to come out of this alive.  And yes, I was extremely tempted swat at a mosquito buzzing around my face until it settled on my upper lip and sunk its needled-like siphon in for a drink.  I managed to sweep him into my mouth with my tongue.

Sometime after midnight, while slipping in and out of a desperately needed but shallow sleep, I found myself praying; yet I could not even discern any of the words that were escaping my mouth. Somewhere in that semiconscious state…my ears picked up on the all too familiar roar of an approaching F-4!  Snapped back to full alertness, I watched as the F-4 lit up that VC held hillside like a roman candle on steroids.  The surviving VC focused all of their firepower up into the dark skies but with little to no avail.  Once the bird had delivered its payload, it was well down range negating any retaliatory strikes. Then without warning, the VC had to quickly refocus on a six pack of approaching gunships, bearing down on them as hell-fire engulfed them in short order.  When the brilliance of the bomb blasts subsided it became apparent that the illuminated hillside was being consumed…the jungle foliage, the trees and any remaining VC.

Immediately afterwards, on my orders, Jordan & Ramos high-tailed it back to a clearing adjacent a rice patty in the valley, not quite a half a click in back of our six.  They managed to get off a flare and minutes later, two medivac hueys set down.  The bodies and pieces of bodies were collected and before we knew it, we were airborne, heading back to base camp.

I still wonder to this day what it was I prayed that night. But this I do know…not only was there an answer, but the results far surpassed my expectations or understanding as evidenced by our miraculous rescue and recovery.

In the aftermath, it all began to unfold at the debriefing.  One of the medivac pilots stated that while on standby at base camp, he was sitting in the cockpit of his bird, when he started receiving a transmission but no call sign was given. Amid the audio backdrop of heavy ground fire, the message over the radio stated that a squad was pinned down with several casualties, send air support and medivac units ASAP! The message was passed on to headquarters. Someone at HQ, although nobody admitted to it, sent out the last coordinates of my squad…and now you know the rest of the story…

So yes, until that night, I had lost all hope…but on that unforgettable night, hope came rushing back like an artesian well surging up thru my soul! Who sent out this call…from where did it originate? Our radio had been destroyed! Of course there were those who said it came from the Twilight Zone! Yet I knew in my heart that it came from a much higher zone.  I still have no idea what my spirit cried out that night as we faced certain death. At the time it just sounded like unintelligible uttering’s, but hear this… I will always believe that someone in heaven in charge of soldier’s prayers from fox holes and such, answered back… Roger Wilco!

Author's Note

Encouraged by another writer here on WC, you know who you are and thanks...I took this challenge contest and ended up with this wonderful short story. Of course that is a bias opinion but if you don't blow your own horn...who will? Feedback Please!

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Quite a gripping and well-written tale of bravery, survival, and benevolent forces unseen. I was going to say something about the Twilight Zone, but you beat me to it. Don't know, but that Phantom may have come from my ship.

[Wrenlane]

Well thank you Samuel, I appreciate your positive review as any writer would. I've published a couple of books and have a third one currently being published. I stumbled across this site a few months back and have enjoyed both reading as well as contributing. If one has the talent and the passion to do so, it is hard to resist! As to the phantom in the story, no telling where it hailed from...could have been from your ship but as stated in the story I believe the origin had to be celestial in nature. Thanks again and I will swing by your creations when I get the chance.