Summer Shorts-Four Short Stories Read Online Free PDF

presence in the area. With the sun setting,
the Major also knew it was "Charlie Time"…the darkness in which
American planes were blind.
    "Tow truck is on it's way…ten outbound,
forty-five in" Sandman 79 advised, meaning that the rescue chopper
had departed ten minutes ago and would arrive in forty five
minutes. "Sit tight and I won't let the bed bugs bite" Sandman 79
laughed as he continued circling high above.
    Then they bit. It sounded like hail hitting a
tin roof as the Viet Cong riddled the wrecked Huey with Ak-47 fire.
"Sir, I hope you realize that I've never shot a man. Hell, I've
never even shot at one. I didn't even hunt as a kid…just
targets…always targets." There was no reply. The Major was
dead…struck by a bullet that had pierced the hull of the wreckage
separating him from the Viet Cong outside. "Captain? Captain? Are
you still with us?" The pilot had either succumbed to his injuries
or he too had been shot.
    Sick beyond pain's threshold, terror now shot
down his spine making his legs tremble. Sliding closer to the
Major's limp body, BB Boy slid the headset off the lifeless head.
"Sandman, this is The Package. I repeat…this is The Package. Major
signed off for good". There was a pause, then a sympathetic
"Understood, Package," A moment of silence passed, then the headset
crackled again with a chuckle and "Package, you say? Is this the
one and only BB Boy?" BB sighed, smiled and replied "That's
affirmative, Sandman. In the flesh…what's left of it. Just me and
the Indians".
    The sound of the A-1 suddenly grew louder as
it dove down to the tree top level, scaring the hell out of the
Viet Cong and BB as well. "Well, now we get to answer the great
mystery, BB. Is that stuff you do with the gun all fake or can you
really shoot? Now might be a good time to find out…seeing that you
have company coming." BB Boy pulled the M16 from its case and
stuffed the phosphorus grenade into his overall pocket. He inserted
a clip, and with his right hand thumb, flicked the mode selector to
"burst". Sliding back over to the window, he eased the barrel of
the M16 out the window and squeezed off a three second fusillade
towards the trees and bushes. Immediately there was a response from
enemy guns firing towards the window from where the mussel flash
had appeared. The scene replayed two more times, then they withdrew
to the tree line…to wait…for the imminent darkness to obscure
them.
    The grass was dripping with dew, and steam
slowly wafted upwards from every leaf, branch, and petal creating a
waist high cloud layer of fog. The late night tropical dampness
soaked through every article of clothing where it blended with his
sweat. His limbs ached as the adrenaline began to give way to the
exhaustion, muscle cramps tugged at his legs from kneeling so long
in such a constricted space.
    The chatter---those damned monkey-like
voices--their voices --continually filled the dark thick air,
blended with the noise of the distant artillery to make dull, white
noise that surrounded us in a tiny bubble of silence. He gasped for
air, flexed his knees for circulation, shook off the cold dew, and
waited for them.
    "Forty-five minutes, my ass…Sandman. Where's
that tow truck?" BB Boy's speech was now slurred between pain,
delirium, and lack of water. The voice returned in his headset
"Well you may not believe it, TV star…but it appears that Charlie
isn't throwing this shin-dig just for you. VC's raising hell all
over the place. Saigon, Da Nang, Hue and some shit hole called "Khe
Sahn". It's just you and me, tonight BB. Is this the smallest
audience you played?"
    BB moaned, grimaced, and then laughed "My
hamster…I used to practice my routine in front of my hamster,
Hercules. He never complained." Laughter rang out from the headset.
BB felt a twinge and then a tugging sensation. Glancing down, he
could see that the overalls were now drenched in his blood. His
guts were sticking to the gooey material.
    He gathered himself, then