by Jeremiah Matias
All that could be carried were the bare necessities of a war. There were the usual blasé instruments of death and destruction that any soldier carried, along with any kind of emotional baggage they would later leave with. This of course naturally applied to Richard Rose. Rose was a member of a long-range reconnaissance patrol, or “LRRP,” carrying the specific items needed for any standard reconnaissance mission. He was in possession of your standard Smith & Wesson Model 12, the praised M1917 revolver, and a simple knife. His high body counts were recognized in and out and were encouraged by military officials. His platoon commander Col. Morse ordered him and his fellow troops to rack up a body count of at least 327 casualties per month, but Rose was able to accumulate half of that on his own despite the ultimate setback of his weaponry.
While it was absolutely mandatory for Rose to receive any and all upgraded ordnance, it never meant he was going to take them out with him into the vicissitudes of war. No one understood his rationale when it came down to it, but it was just widely accepted rather than opposed. Rose always stood in front of everyone else during the scouting missions, and was the first to achieve bravery if danger was imminent. He was quick, and efficient, and carried nothing but his three basic munitions, for they were all he needed. It was understood that most complications involving Rose ended rather quickly; he could usually be found at the end of any given blood trail with knife in hand or gun smoking. Perhaps the most vicious of Rose’s killings took place during an enemy attack. The VC’s snuck onto where base was set for the night, and attempted to slaughter the soldiers in their sleep, but luckily Rose was awake not too far off in the dark. Before they could make their first move on the soldiers Rose silently toppled over the young and unhardened VC and plunged his knife smoothly into his side as they fell, waking the soldier that was sleeping closest. The rest of the Vietcong ran now having lost the element of surprise, leaving their comrade behind. Rose still did not get off of him.
The woken soldier was now watching.
“You can’t feel it.” Rose whispered to the VC.
The young guerrilla tried to resist him, but Rose forced his face down in the dirt.
“Or can you? Can you feel that? It’s still in you. It’s inside you. The blade, right between the kidney and the spleen. All it needs is a twist. A tight twist. A twist.”
Thick blood was slowly oozing out beneath them, the knife slowly turning inside the flesh. Rose’s demeanor expressionless. This was the most brutal of all his acts in Vietnam. This was true. There was nothing anyone could do.
About three months after his actions, there was a new rookie soldier brought in via helicopter by the name of Tobias. Tobias was a small and poorly built medic and served as a replacement for a prior medic that had been recently lost in battle against the VC’s. Tobias was quick to see the divide between the other men and Rose, and didn’t understand it. Through and through they tried to explain his bluntness, his lack of sympathy, and his raw and repugnant inner-core. The violence inside of him. But Tobias just didn’t understand. After some time, the soldiers just stopped trying to convince him, and figured he’d learn on his own. Days later, to their surprise, they found Tobias and Rose sitting next to each other. Just talking. At first it was maybe once or twice a week, but then it turned into once or twice a day. Of course, they eventually became inseparable as time passed. Always just talking.
There was a visible change in Rose. He started to revert to the back of the line during their missions, and cut out being the bravest man in all of Vietnam. He even upgraded his arsenal and left the knife and pistols back at base, switching it all out eventually. He began to value his safety. It wasn’t even long before he started to engage with the other soldiers as well, slowly making true companions out of each and every one of them.
It wasn’t until much later though, that someone had brought attention to Tobias and Rose holding hands in the woods one night. Some chose to ignore it, others silently refused it. No one ever brought it up. Over time slanderous rumors about letters being passed around by the both of them began to circulate all throughout the base. One soldier vowed to be in possession of one. He claimed it to be signed “Rosie.” Everyone chose not to believe it. There was one night in particular where it was raining. Some say it was the hardest it had ever rained in Vietnam. The soldiers took the opportunity to prance and revel in the rain, and take it as a liberating experience. Everyone was accounted for in the rain, except for the unfortunate two.
A month passed before Tobias was gone. Poof. Nonexistent. Almost as if he were never there to begin with. Rose began to stand in front of everyone else during the scouting missions, and was the first to achieve bravery if danger was imminent. He only needed three weapons in the field, and he stuck to them. His standard Smith & Wesson Model 12, the praised M1917 revolver, and a simple knife. It's all he needed.
Not long after Tobias, Richard Rose was also gone. Involuntary discharge. Same as Tobias. The soldiers talked about them often. Some in disgust, some in praise. Some claim they knew from the start; some say they never would've guessed. They did eventually agree on one thing: If you listen closely to the jungle of Vietnam while it rains as hard as it possibly can, you can still hear them talking. And when it stops, the morning sky of Vietnam screams in vermilion.
About the Author
Jeremiah Matias is an up and coming 18-year-old writer of Hispanic descent. He loves the art of written expression and even hosts local poetry slams in his home town of Hazleton Pennsylvania to prove it. His hope is to bring people together with his stories and help create a world where everyone can express themselves through their own unique literary prowess.
