Charlie Owned the Night
The nights are the worst. Every night I watch the sun go down and I curse the darkness. After so many years and so much therapy and so many different meds, you’d think I’d have this under control. But I don’t. Not even close.
The clock on my stand reads 2:47am and I haven’t slept a wink. Two double shots of Jack to wash down a double shot of Prozac sometimes will do the trick. Not tonight.
I’m no big baby who’s afraid of the dark. If you haven’t been there, you don’t get it. You see we owned the day. We could move where we wanted. If Charlie dared show his face during the day, we’d either frag him right there, or worse for him, we’d call in the fast movers and they’d nape his fucking ass. They say napalm sticks to kids, but it by God stuck to Charlie too.
But Charlie owned the night. Guard duty, night patrols, night patrols were the worst. Goddamn booby traps everywhere. And Charlie could move. He could move through the jungle without making the slightest sound.
I don’t know where they came from. We killed them in droves. Fuck, I bet I killed a couple dozen of them during my tour, at least. But still they came. They kept on coming and we kept on killing. Why? Fuck, who knows. It was all just a big farce. The Army lied to the government. The government lied to the press. The press lied to the people. It was all a bunch of lies.
3:27. He’s out there. Right outside my window, I can hear his ass. My Colt is locked and loaded. I’m ready if he tries to make a move. I’ve had it. One of us is going to die tonight.
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