Night Light

Dark. Very dark.
The jungle canopy blots
out all but glimpses of the
moon.

Sweat trickles down my nose.
I wish each drop a safe trip.

It's quiet. Not even the freakin
bugs are talking.

I slowly put the StarLight to my
eye.
Nice camp. Even has a hooch
off the ground. Lucky bastard.

I hear Cpl. Jones mumbling.
God, I love that guy. Talks the
coord's to himself.

I glance over at him. A green
cayalume is illuminating a map
on the ground half under him.
His tent-half covering them.

I look back to the hooch.

No idea why this guy is so precious.
Got orders on him. So, he is.
And, I see him.
Walks on to what amounts to a
porch, of his hooch. 1200 meters,
max.

I grin and click my heels together.

Seconds seem like hours.

I hear Cpl. Jones key the PRC-77
three times. Mic open, third time.

Barely audible porno music comes
through...(bow-chicka-bow-waw)
I grin. Blackie pilots are the sh**.

Dude is still at his hooch.
I hear Jones flip the PRC off.

All is quiet.

Jones mumbles some more, I grin.

I feel, more than hear the approach.
It rumbles your guts. A good rumble.

I see the S.O.B. on his porch realise
what fear truly is.

I flick the StarLight off, and watch.

After, Jones and I sleep.
With a night light on.

Regards,
Lex

Afterthought :
My stories won't (can't) be in chrono-
logical order. They'll be told, as I can
tell them.

Lex, your stories need not ever be in chronological order.That fact that you are able to share them at all is good enough, and many of us cherish that alone.
Iam truly sorry that you lost such a good friend.Perhaps one of many over there.
At least you remember him at all....whereas others may not have.
Just keep writing...and we will keep reading.
I need to better understand.Thank you for helping me do that.
Stay stong.
Cpl.Jones. May he be in a far better place.
AD

[edit on 30-10-2007 by AccessDenied]