Chapter 1: It ain't me

WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP
	The blades of the Huey whopped away as you were ferried into the combat zone by an airborne helicopter. You poured the volatile mixture of gasoline and gel into the tank of your flamethrower as the helicopter neared the landing zone. You capped off the tank and slapped Frank's back, letting him know that you were fully fueled. He nods and racks the bolt back on his M60. You pull a cigarette from your helmet strap and light it up. You take a drag and blow the smoke out the side of the chopper, the smoke swirling before disappearing. You remember a song your buddy John was singing in the shower. He gave you all some paper to read the lyrics off of and said when he got back to the states, he'd publish it.
"Almost heaven, West Virginia. Blue Ridge mountains. Shenandoah River."
The rest of the helicopter started to sing along.
"Life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze."
"Country roads, take me home, to the place, I belong!"
You start shouting over the helicopter blades.
"West Virginia, mountain mama, take me home, country roads."
Shots started coming from the jungle below and you stopped singing, taking your helmet off and sitting on it. You've heard stories of people getting saved by their helmets. You saw the rounds slamming into the helicopter to your right and it burst into flames. You covered your face from the intense heat. Fuck this shit. You grab your helmet off the floor and rush up to the cabin. The fucking pilot was dead and the co-pilot was injured.
"ANON! TAKE THE AGH FUCKING STICK!"
You pull the dead pilot from the seat and sit down, feeling the wind against your balls through the hole in the seat.
"TRY AND KEEP HER STEADY! I'M GONNA TRY AND LA-"
A shot rips through him and he slumps down, leaving you alone at the stick. You barely knew how to fly planes, let alone a fucking chopper. You called the crew chief up and he got off his machine gun, the helicopter jerking around as you tried desperately to keep it stable.
"HOLY CHRIST ANON WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!"
"GET YOUR ASS IN HERE AND HELP ME FLY THIS FUCKING THING!"
A streak came up from the jungle and you saw it just in time to throw the stick to the side, tilting the helicopter over.
"FUCK!"
You pulled the crew chief inside the cockpit and he sat on top of the dead co-pilot. He took the stick just as another RPG streaked at the helicopter.
"OH SHIT!"

	You jumped out of the cockpit to the rear where the rest of your squad was holding onto anything they could. The RPG hit the glass cockpit and destroyed it, making the helicopter start spinning wildly. You grabbed your safety line and clicked it to one of the hooks on the floor. Frank was almost pulled from the helicopter as it spun faster and faster. You grab him by the flak vest and struggle to pull him back in as the helicopter went down. You braced yourself against the floor before the blades make contact with the jungle canopy. You cut your safety line, fearing it might get you killed if the helicopter lit on fire. The blades chopped through the jungle trees as the helicopter slammed into the canopy below.
"FUCKING HOLD ON!"
You held on for dear life as the helicopter slammed into the ground, throwing you to the floor and slamming your helmet into it. The helicopter skidded along the jungle floor until it slammed into a tree, throwing you forward into the firewall. You laid there for a bit before letting yourself fall, sliding to the floor of the helicopter. Then the heat hit you like a blast wave. You turn back and see the helicopter had lit on fire.
"EVERYBODY OUT!"
You bail the fuck out with your flamethrower in hand. Frank bailed as well before the helicopter erupted into a violent plume of smoke.
"FRANK! GET DOWN NOW!"
You throw your flamethrower behind a tree and hit the deck, covering your neck with your hands before the inevitable explosion happened. Shrapnel and pieces of the helicopter flew in every direction. Something lifted you up before dropping you just as fast. Then a searing pain came from your back as you got up from the ground. You tore off your flak jacket and pulled it in front of you to see all the nylon on the back ripped to shreds. There was a piece of helicopter blade embedded into your flak jacket, scorching it with how hot it was. You threw the vest down on the ground and looked back to the chopper. You wish you hadn't.

	Men were jumping from the flaming wreck engulfed in fire, screaming as they did. You watched helplessly as a man grabbed another man, trying to pull him from the wreckage. The man he was pulling was torn in half, dead. You grabbed your flamethrower and slung the backpack over your back. You opened the valve and scanned around for any gooks who dare try and take a look. You saw a village in the distance and pointed to it.
"FRANK! There's a village about 10 miles east! We might find help over there!"
"Alright, Anon! Let's move!"

	You took a drink from your canteen you got off a dead squad member back at the wreckage. If they were gonna die, might as well be useful. You and Frank were the only ones left from your squad. You had 1st-degree burns on your back, but nothing too bad. Frank only had a few bruises, which was amazing considering he was almost flung from the helicopter. You estimated that you'd walked for about 5 miles now and had about 5 to go. You were talking to Frank about girls and shit when you heard rustling in a bush. You lit the pilot light on your flamethrower and pointed it at the bush. Frank points his M60 at the bush as well. You spoke in crude Vietnamese and told them to get the fuck out of the bush. A small tiger anthro boy came out of the bush, holding his hands up as he did. You asked him if he spoke English and he said no. You flicked the pilot light off and Frank slung his M60. The boy reached down and grabbed something from the bush before bringing it up. It was an even smaller tiger anthro girl. You smiled at them and asked if they knew about the village down the mountain. They nodded and said it was their home village. They offered to take you there but you asked them if any other soldiers were there first. They nodded and said that there were other NVA soldiers occupying their village. A mixture of tiger anthros and golden jackals. You nodded and let them lead you there.
"Frank, follow the kids, we've got gooks to kill."

	You made it to the outskirts when you called to the kids, telling them to stay hidden. They obeyed and disappeared into the grass. You clicked the pilot light on and used it to light a cigarette. You stuck the cigarette in your mouth and took a drag, blowing the smoke from your nose.
"Let's rock."
You rushed over to one of the huts and took cover behind the thatch walls. You peek around the corner, seeing men holding AKs and patrolling the village. You walked out into the open and whistled to them.
"Hey, Charlie! Got a light?"
They bring their AKs to bare but you click down the paddles on your flamethrower, unleashing a stream of burning death on them. They began to scream as the flames engulfed them. You release the paddles and watch as they burn. The jackal's fur acting as kindling for the fire and helping the napalm stick to it. You wheel around to see more VC coming from huts and bearing SKSs and AKs. You fire at them with the flamethrower when they made it down the steps from the hut. You held down the paddles as more Vietcong tried to encircle you. The whooshing of the flamethrower was almost enough to drown out the screams. Almost. You convinced yourself that the screaming wasn't real as the whoosh became your world.

	About an hour later, you had cleared the village of all NVA forces. All you could hear was the crackling of the fires as you sat, watching the charred remains of jackals and tigers burn in the center of the village. All the men, women, and children were staring on in horror. Barking deer, tigers, even the odd jackal were all staring at you. The dragon man. You took the last drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke through your nose, spitting out the cancer stick and stomping it out. You took a look at your flamethrower and sigh. Your drill sergeant was right. Your weapon was truly your only friend. Something grabbed your shoulder and you bolted up, hands on the paddles. It's a young tiger woman. You hook the flamethrower to the backpack and sit back down, taking it off and shaking it.
"Damn, almost empty."
The tiger woman smiled politely and spoke.
"Thanks for killing those soldiers. They were going to execute us today but they saw your helicopters overhead. Most of them went to search your helicopter's crash site. They'll be back."
Aw shit.
"FRANK! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"
He was inside a hut eating a C ration when you called over to him.
"Yeah? What's up Anon?"
"Get into a defensive position! More gooks coming from the crash site!"
He smiles and racks the bolt back on his M60.
"All my memories gather round her, miner's lady, stranger to blue water."
She turns to you and you smile.
"Dark and dusty, painted on the sky, misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye."
She sits down, listening to you sing John's little toon.
"Country roads, take me home to the place I belong."
"West Virginia, mountain momma, take me home, country roads."
She smiles back at you and you continue to the next verse.
"I hear her voice in the morning hour as she calls me, the radio reminds me of my home far away."
"Drivin' down the road I get a feeling that I should've been here yesterday."
She sings along with you.
"Yesterdaaaay!"
"Country roads, take me home to the place I belong."
"West Virginia, mountain momma, take me home, country roads."
"Take me home, down country roads."
You chuckle and she giggles at the little duet you just did. You look her over and see she's actually very pretty. Must be about 5 and a half feet and maybe 140 pounds soaking wet. Just as you were about to ask her name, Frank yelled out.
"GOOKS IN THE WIRE!"
Fuck. You grab your flamethrower off the ground and see a gas can sitting by the steps.
"Mind if I use this?"
She shakes her head.
"Go ahead. We have plenty."
You smile and grab the canister, taking out a granular substance from your pouch. You guess the can is about 5 gallons and you measure the powdery grains to accommodate it. You dump the grains into the can and close the cap, shaking it vigorously before opening it back up. You unscrew your flamethrowers fuel caps and pour the gooey mixture out from the canister. You fill the other tank and screw the caps back on, latching the canister closed and getting up.
"Stay inside. Don't make a sound. Understand?"
She nods her head, rushing inside the thatch hut. Time to rock.

	You were about 20 feet apart from frank and saw the gooks rush your position. You were hiding inside a shed made of thatch while he was laying in some tall grass. You watched as they stared in horror at the charred bodies of their comrades. You pointed your fire lance at them and held it there, waiting for the rest to come out. When they did, you depressed the paddles and fire streaked from your flamethrower. The whoosh filled your ears, like a firey god coming to cleanse the world of communism. What your fire didn't touch, Frank lit the fuck up with his M60. You stopped shooting your gooey, hot load and jumped from the window. You charged, the screams of dying men being drowned out by your battle cry. Your face contorted into that of pure rage. The men saw you coming and their eyes widened in shock. You skidded to a halt, feeling the napalm in your tanks slosh around. You pressed both the paddles and more fire erupted from your lance. You swept the literal fire hose from side to side, covering more in your red hot hatred. Your face was soaked with sweat from the damp jungle heat. It was like a sauna, not helped by the fact that everything was now on fire. These assholes were going to execute civilians? Not on your watch. You continued to spray from side to side as the screams lessened. You started yelling through gritted teeth.
"YOU COMMUNIST FUCKS! KILLING CIVILIANS! THEN CALLING US THE BAD GUYS? FUCK YOU!"
You then heard a noise you dreaded hearing. A fwish. You were out of fuel.
"Frank! Cover me while I go fill up!"
"GOTCHA ANON!"
He is now hip firing his M60 at the remaining gooks while you rush back. You reach the steps and grab the canister, throwing your flamethrower on the ground and opening the tanks. You pour the remaining goo into the tanks, filling them up and closing the tanks. You throw the backpack over your back and grab the flamethrower, ready to cook the remaining gooks. You rushed around the corner and a gook shot you in the leg, making you keel over in pain. You rolled over and depressed the paddles, cooking him with napalm. he screams in agony, firing his rifle in the air as he desperately tries to get his clothes off. He burns to death before he can, however. You get on your stomach and remove the backpack, crawling to the steps as you bled all over the ground. The last thing you see before you black out is the tiger woman rushing to your side.

	Those lines echoed in your unconscious mind like a call across a valley. Those old country roads to West Virginia were calling your name. Not today old friend. You got a war to win. You'd die before you let these communists take this village. Take this woman. The only woman you've ever cared for. You're a marine. Not all the communists in hell could overrun YOU.

	You wake with a start, flying up off a thatch bed in a hurry.
"FUCKING COMMUNISTS!"
You turn your body and feel a searing pain in your leg, but you don't care. You're keeping this village secure. You see your massive flamethrower backpack and grimace. No way you're carrying that. You reach for your 45 and find it still there. You smile, being able to knock down a gook from up to 50 yards away being better than using a sharpened stick. You try and stand, but hiss as the pain becomes worse.
"Fuck! Stupid damn gooks shooting my leg!"
The tiger lady rushes in and sees you trying to get up.
"No! Stay in bed! You're hurt and need rest!"
You look up to her, grabbing your helmet from the table by the bed.
"These fucking commies need to die. Where's Frank? FRANK!"
He rushes in the room with his M60 in hand, expecting gooks. He sees you sitting there, still trying to get off the bed.
"Anon! Stay in the bed! Your muscles got torn to shit from that bullet going through your leg! Don't try to stand or you'll rip your muscles apart!"
You realize the severity of the wound and sigh, pulling your legs up onto the bed again.
"Well promise me that none of those gooks lay a finger on this girl. You understand?"
He nods walking off, flicking his bipod down as he does. She looks at you and smiles.
"You care about me that much? I, don't know what to say."
A man walks in and speaks for her.
"Well, I do! Stay away from my daughter GI! You get better and go home! We no want you here!"
He was a short, elderly looking tiger with thick glasses and a walking stick. He sounded like every stereotypical Asian accent combined into one super-Asian accent.
"GI, you stay away from my daughter! She a precious flower and you a dragon! Do nothing but burn everything! Do not burn my daughter!"
These words sting more than they should. You thought about it more and it started to make sense. You do burn everything. Even back home you didn't do much except fuck everything up. That's the whole reason you came here. Nobody really wanted you around and you knew how to shoot. The tiger lady saw your pain and told her father to shoo. He snorts and walks away, swearing in Vietnamese.
"I'm so sorry about him, he's just protective. My name's Luanne, but people call me Lilly."
You sigh, laying back down in your bed.
"I'm Anon, as you probably already know. Frank is the guy with the big gun."
She smiles at that.
"Anon, that sounds-"
She's cut off by boot falls coming from the hall outside.
"Anon! Gooks are coming, they see the bodies!"
Fuck! You lift your leg over the side of the bed and sit there.
"I need a crutch. A stick or something. Just get me something!"
"No! You're staying in bed Anon. Your friend is going to hide while we deal with it. Now lay down and cover yourself. I'll hide your things!"
She grabs your helmet and flamethrower, dragging the heavy equipment to a floor panel and throwing it underneath. She covered the floor panel and you covered yourself with a blanket, feeling cold all of a sudden. You lay in wait, keeping your 1911 close.

	The gooks were shouting and trying to get answers from the family. They said they saw American soldiers come through here and leave, but they weren't still here. They didn't believe them. You had been trying to keep quiet but they started smacking Lilly around.
"WHERE IS AMERICAN?! WE KNOW HE HERE!"
"I-I don't know! P-ple-AH!"
She hits the floor, sobbing. You hear footsteps stomp from the hallway. The gook sees you and points.
"I CHECK IN HERE!"
He stomps over to you and you smile at him.
"YOU PIG DOG!? WHY YOU HERE!? ANSWER ME OR DIE!"
You start speaking in Vietnamese.
"I'm not a pig dog you fucking idiot. They all left an hour ago."
"I NO BELIEVE YOU! YOU DIE NO-"
You fire your 45 through the sheets, hitting him square in the balls. He drops his gun and grasps at his popped gonads as you fling the covers off you. You respond in English.
"I'm an American, fuck ass."
You aim your 1911 at him and fire, hitting him in the forehead and killing him instantly. You hear more coming from down the hallway and aim at the door. 2 come around the corner, AKs pointed at you.
BLAM BLAM
They both drop before they could get a shot off.
"LILLY!"
Frank busts out of the closet he was hiding in and sprays the gooks on the floor. He rounds the corner, still firing.
You grab some thatch from the wall and pull hard, pulling it from the wall. You then grab some bamboo from the table by you and make a splint, wrapping the thatch tightly and securing it with 4 different knots. You test the splint and it takes the full load of your body weight effortlessly. You hop up, hobbling over to the door entrance. Lilly was on the ground, a large gash on her head and her father shaking.
"YOU AMERICANS FUCK EVERYTHING UP! MY DAUGHTER HURT BECAUSE OF YOU!"
You feel yourself shake in anger as you grab your first aid kit from your webbing.
"WHY YOU SO QUIET? YOU FEEL SHAME? YOU SHO-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU GOD DAMN GOOK!"
You aim your 45 straight at him and squeeze the trigger, stopping just before it breaks.
"DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE FOR EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH TO TURN TO SHIT?!"
He gets off the floor and stares at you, tail flicking back and forth.
"I get up every single fucking day, knowing nobody gives a shit about me. Nobody would care if I died, nobody cares that I live. But right now, I care about your daughter. I want her safe as much as you do, so please, shut the fuck up about me being an American."
You aim your pistol at the door, firing at 2 more gooks before the slide locks back. You depress the magazine release, and the magazine drops. You grab a new magazine from your pouch and slap it in, flicking the slide release closed before pointing the gun back at him.
"Let me bandage her up old man. Then I'll defend this shitty little hovel you call home and call for extract. Got that?"
He nods backing away slowly with his hands raised.
"Good."
You holster your pistol and hobble over to Luanne, ripping open your first aid kit and pulling out the dressing. You rip open the cardboard package and grab her head. You wrap the dressing around her head multiple times before tying a knot You take out smelling salts and break the package open, waving them in front of her nose. She coughs a bit before coming to, looking up at you.
"Anon, what do you think you're-"
"Shh, I'll be out of your hair in a little bit."
You rush back over to the room you were in, taking the rug off the floor panel and retrieving your helmet and flamethrower. You open the gas shut off all the way and a slight hiss comes from the contraption. You sling it over your back and feel the mixture slosh around your back. You limp out the door as Luanne protested.
"Anon! Don't go out there! You'll die!"
Good. Nobody cared about you anyways. Your father left when you were young, your mother hated your guts and gave you the boot when you turned 18, your family had disowned you because of how badly you had fucked up everything, even your friends weren't friends for long. You had a special gift for fucking things up royally and literally everyone you meet ends up hating you. So if these gooks are going to be your end, so be it. You click the ignitor paddle on and take a cigarette and light it with the pilot. You stick it in your mouth, hands shaking in anticipation. You heard them start screaming in Vietnamese.
"AMERICAN OVER THERE! LIGHT HIM UP!"
You look over to another hut and see civilians running from a house, carrying whatever they could. Soldiers were firing at them as they ran. You depressed the paddles and aimed for the house, lighting the thatch on fire like kindling. The soldiers inside ran out to meet you but were quickly gunned down by Frank.
"ANON! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"
"Doing what we were sent here to do frank. Die for nothing."
You limp over to the burning house, taking a drag of your cigarette and blowing it out your nose.
"Dragon Man. Kinda catchy."
You continue to burn more gooks as they exit the now engulfed house. The family staring at you in horror as you burned everything they knew. The whooshing drowns out their cries to stop. You took another long drag and exhaled from your nose, stopping the firey torrent coming from your wand. You limp over to another house as more people were running from it. They started screaming at you.
"NO GI! DON'T BURN US TOO!"
You saw more Vietcong come from the house and let your wand fall to the side, drawing your 45. They fired at you, grazing your skull and drawing blood. You fired your entire magazine, hitting the 2 gooks maybe once each. The pain was making your vision go blurry, but you didn't mind. You weren't coming back from this. The family ran back inside the house and grabbed some more things, including a baby. You let the magazine drop and slapped a new one in, racking the slide back and chambering a round.
"You fucking gooks. If I'm going to hell, I'll take you all with me!"
You see 3 more come out of a hut and aim there weapons at you. They fire, hitting you in the hip. The round bounces off your hip bone and exits your side, causing you to drop.
"FUUUUCK!"
You fire your remaining shots at the gooks, hitting them and downing them in kind. You grasp your hip, feeling the bone chips inside. You get on your hands and knees, struggling to your feet again. You toss the pistol aside, having spent all your ammunition. You grab the wand off your back and limp forward, intent on burning the wounded gooks to death.
"ANON! ON YOUR RIGHT!"
You lazily raise the wand to your right, not even looking. You depress the paddles and hear screaming drowned out by whooshing. You continue to limp forward, determined to take these gooks with you. You reach them, seeing them trying to crawl away. You point your fire lance at them and hold down the paddles, watching them roll around as they tried desperately to put out the fire. You kept the paddles held down as more screaming closed in around you. The pain was getting unbearable as you grit your teeth in frustration.
"FUCK YOU!"
You see a blast of gas come from the wand and drop it, undoing the pack and slamming it down on the charred Vietcong. You collapsed right there, the pain becoming too much. You feel yourself slipping away. Finally, you could rid the world of yourself. As everything fades away, you hear a familiar noise.
WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP
RATATATATATATATATATATAT
The last thing you feel is being lifted from the ground.

Chapter 2: Fortunate Son

	You awake in a white room, decorated by Mickey Mouse portraits as well as Donald Duck and Goofy. They were all wearing helmets with a red cross on them. Disney medics. Funny. You look to your side and see a window. It's raining hard outside, thunder rumbling and lightning flashing. You stare back at the ceiling and see a fan rotating slowly. You look to your right and see a familiar tiger resting in a chair. Her head was bandaged up and her tail was flicking. She was sitting next to a man, who you recognized as Frank. He sets down his newspaper and grabs a colored drink which you assume is some sort of alcohol. You clear your throat and he looks over to you.
"Anon? You awake?"
You nod weakly and he gets up from the chair.
"You fucking dumbass! You could've got yourself killed!"
You smile at him.
"That was the point."
He was about to respond when he stops. Shocked by your response.
"Anon, what the hell man. You okay up there?"
He points to your head and you nod.
"I'm not retarded if that's what you're thinking. Just tired."
"Man, you're only 24! How can you be tired?"
You just look back to the ceiling and the fan, watching it spin around. Frank speaks again after being silent.
"I get it now. You got nobody waiting for you."
You nod your head, feeling your heart sink. Nobody gave a shit if you died. Even the marines didn't give two shits about you. You try to sit up but feel a sharp pain in your hip.
"Fuck!"
You hiss and slam yourself down on the bed.
"What happened? I blacked out."

	Frank went into detail about how he had to drag your ass into a chopper after you smashed some poor gooks head in with your flamethrower backpack. You had been shot 5 times. Once in the left shoulder, once in the hip, and 3 times in the gut.
"You're fortunate, son. If I had been a second slower, you would've died."
The word 'died' was punctuated by a lightning strike and thunder. As if God himself gave a damn.
"In fact, if it weren't for Miss Luanne giving up her bandage for you, you'd be dead."
You still stared at the fan. Watching it go round and round.
"Should've left me. All I do is fuck things up."
"Anon! That ain't true!"
You whip your head over to him.
"AIN'T IT?!"
He shrinks back in his seat.
"If it weren't for me distracting everyone with that little tune, we would still have a squad! If it weren't for me shooting that gook in that hut, I'd still be walking! If it weren't for me, the captain would still be alive!"
Luanne is awake by now, only to shrink back in her seat as well. You remember the captain, how you had thrown a grenade and it bounced off a tree. He jumped on top of it to save your squad. That's why you were assigned to flamethrower duty. As punishment for your retardation. Turns out you fucked shit up no matter what. Frank is the only one who still cares about you, and Lilly doesn't even know you.
"I never told you what I did back home to get on board this fucking war did I?"
He shakes his head.
"Well, it starts back when I was a boy."

	You were playing out in the field with a magnifying glass, burning ants and generally being a little shit. But you were 15 by this point. Your mother thought you were retarded, but you just didn't get along with anybody. You were burning an ant on a piece of grass when a big truck came on by, filled to the brim with Korean war vets. You watched the massive truck bounce on by down the dirt road as the vets watched you. Then they all started pointing at you frantically. You look down and see a fire had started where the magnifying glass was pointing. Oh shit. You stomp it desperately but the fire kept spreading. The soldiers all piled out and hopped your fence, rushing over to you and using their jackets to put out the fire. Your mother had been watching the whole thing and she came rushing over to you, picking you up by your collar.
"ANON! WHAT THE FUCK!?"
The soldiers finished putting out the fire and looked at her.
"THAT'S IT, MISTER! FINAL STRAW! YOU WANNA BURN THINGS SO BADLY? YOU CAN JOIN THE SOLDIERS! GET YOUR TRUNK AND PACK UP YOUR THINGS! I WANT YOU GONE IN AN HOUR!"
You tried to argue, but she was too angry to reason with.
"NOW GET MOVING!"
The soldiers all looked on in disbelief, as a mother just kicked her own son from the nest. A sergeant, who would later become your captain, tried to step in.
"Ma'am, he was only-"
"SHUT UP YOU! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH OF AN ASS PAIN HE IS! BUT YOU WILL! MARK MY WORDS! IF YOU EVEN DARE LEAVING WITHOUT HIM, I'LL CONTACT YOUR SUPERIOR AND GET YOU COURT MARSHALLED!"
The man balled his fists, gritting his teeth. He was mad as a dog. But he kept his cool and walked back to the house with you.

	You finally packed up your trunk and all your clothes, which weren't much. You had maybe 5 pairs of clothes in total. You were crying the whole time you packed, pleading to stay at home. But your mother was firm with her decision, telling you to get the fuck out when the hour was up. Well, the hour was up and you had to go. Your mother didn't even wave goodbye. That was the last straw for you. You dropped your trunk and power walked back to her.
"SINCE YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, HOW ABOUT SOMETHING TO REMEMBER ME BY!?"
You grab a rock and pelt the house with it. She runs after you and you swing your trunk at her, knocking her over.
"YOU MEAN OLD BAT! I LOVED YOU LIKE FAMILY AND YOU ALWAYS HATED ME!"
You set the trunk on top of her so she couldn't get up and picked up a bigger rock. You pelted it at the window to her room, smashing the window. You got another rock and threw it at another window, breaking that one too. Your brother and sister were staring in horror as you had the first meltdown since you were a toddler. You spat on her and kicked her once, hefting your trunk off her as she cried.
You rushed back over to the sergeant who was shocked at your display of violence. You walk past him, huffing and puffing as the trunk weighed you down.

	As the years went by, you got bigger and stronger living with the soldiers. You'd wrestle with them, losing at first, but eventually learning to win. You would eat and train with the new soldiers, going through boot camp almost 5 times over the years. Each time you would learn something new, be it marksmanship, wrestling, or how to eat really god damn fast. The last drill instructor was furious with you, not being able to teach you anything you didn't already know. He even tried beating you, but you were able to counter anything he tried. By the time you turned 24, Vietnam was in full swing. You were chosen to go there and be a rifleman. The poor kids who went with you didn't last long. All dying due to poor training or no training. The drill instructors just sent men off to Vietnam with no training at all to fill quotas. You ended up having to teach them to shoot and generally how to be good marines. Yet, they always died. No matter what you did, they would die. So you ended up going with your sergeant. Then you managed to fuck up and threw a grenade against a tree. Your sergeant, now a captain, tossed himself on top of the grenade to save your squad and blew up. He got torn in half.

	You slam your back against the bed, gritting your teeth as pain radiated around you.
"You see? I only fuck things up! You should've let me die, Frank. It would save somebody the trouble of shooting me again."