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Rated: ASR · Short Story · War · #1082969
One tragic memory
They called it a near miss, but I called it...what? What did I call what happened that day over 30 years ago? I reached for the aspirin bottle that I kept on my desk for the near constant headaches that plagued me. The question nagged at me as I leaned back in my chair and thumbed open the bottle. Shaking a couple of aspirins out, I popped them in my mouth and began to chew as my thoughts drifted back to that day.

We didn't know exactly where we were only that we were working in northern Tay Ninh province within spitting distance of the Cambodian border. It was a miserably humid day, as were most days in that place, and we were searching out an elusive enemy.
A rest break was called near a small trail and my squad dropped to the ground in exhaustion.

The straps of my rucksack were cutting into the raw flesh of my shoulders and my feet burned from the miles of jungle trails I had walked. Sweat had streamed into my eyes stinging them and causing them to tear up. I leaned forward and tried to wipe my eyes clear of the fluid when suddenly a small square that I could just make out as a picture appeared in front of me.

"It's my girl sarge." said a voice I was unfamiliar with. It was a new guy to the squad.

I took the picture from him still unable to focus through my watery eyes. "Looks nice, you're a lucky guy." I grunted.

"Yeah," he said, "We're gettin' married when I get outta this crazy place."

I leaned back against a tree when I heard the snapping sound. A sound every grunt knows. The sound of a bullet passing close. I fell sideways rolling onto my stomach. Sweat, from more than just the heat, ran in rivulets down my face. The bullet had been for me.

"I saw that sarge!" a voice called from across the trail. "Talk about your near misses, you lucked out man"

I looked over my left shoulder. I saw a figure slumped over that would never marry that girl in the picture. I felt nothing.

As I sat there, in my chair, a cold feeling entered my chest followed by a lump in my throat. I rose and walked on feet that still burned across to the filing cabinet. I opened the drawer and reached in back to pull out a small box of memories. They called it a near miss, but I called it...what? I knew then. I called it a fatal shot to the heart as through tear filled eyes I gazed at a small square in my hand that I knew to be the picture of a young girl.


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