There I was, laid up in some dingy sweat soaked little swamp village with just one operating Hotel with a few rooms. Nothing to drink here except dirty filtered water from the swamp. The fan above didn't work. No electricity anymore. I was far behind Viet-Cong lines. There was no need to have me restrained, this far behind. There was nowhere really to go, without bumping into Viet-Cong. They know I'm here - but they don't care. It's a laugh to see what I would do, to them they think.
It's only a matter of time before they pot shot me.
I'm armed, but hungry. No food for me here, just a place to rest quietly.
I get up and leave the village. None of the locals care where I go. Pottering around in their Viet-Cong civilian clothes to project their allegiance.
I walk back into the jungle. Nowhere to go, so I dissapear. 15 years later, having culturally integrated with the North side of life. I eventually come to understand that the War has long been over. We lost, as did I. Wandering the Jungles and Forests for years - occassionally approaching hamlets or villages for things. But always staying clear of Military engagements. But gun long since left behind, never fired a shot, even for food. I still wander the Jungles of Vietnam. The people call me... The Phantom of Vietnam.
I even have a Purple Suit.
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Karnal was a brave soldier in Vietnam (Read 108305 times)
