The Day I Died in The Jungle

I'll never forget this day.

The torrential morning downpour had just ended. The jungle was steaming hot, no other way to describe it. Humidity probably 99%, temp not far behind. Great weather for throwing back a few margaritas on a Mexican beach, but for humping around the jungle? Not so much. Always thirsty. And tired. Not sleeping well at all, attention was not what it should be. And for some reason we all sensed that some bad shit was going to happen today. Sometimes you just know.

We were on patrol looking for "Charlie". In reality we were just a bunch of kids, albeit heavily armed kids, just trying to stay alive until we could come home.

Damn it's hot, fatigues soaked through from sweat and rain. We came to an open and fully exposed clearing, about the length of a football field. Really not good to be out in the open so we skirted around it to the north side off the high ground. Of course this now put us in mud that came over the tops of our boots. Deep mud that made a loud sucking sound every time you picked up your foot. Damn helmet not adjusted right and it's sliding around my helmet liner which is soaked with sweat. Continually pushing it up so I could see the top of the treeline. Just another fun day in paradise.

I was in the third position. There were 10 of us. I remember Anderson was on point. Don't remember who was between me and Andy. We're now out of the mud in a short clearing on the edge of the real jungle. Now walking through elephant grass, waist high and rajor sharp. Elephant grass. This is also where the Fer De Lance hangs. One more new worry. The Fer De Lance, one of the worlds largest and most poisonous snakes. Nocturnal hunter, sleeps in elephant grass during the day. Step on one and they usually get very pissed and you can get very dead in a matter of minutes. I would say pick your poison - big poisonous snakes, booby traps, land mines or snipers. Like I said, just another fun day in the damn hot tropical sun.

Bungle in The Jungle

At the edge of the elephant grass loomed the real jungle. Triple canopy, very dark, only partially filtered light gets in making everything blend together, heat is trapped and reflected making it like a sauna.

Anderson is at the treeline about to head in. No one talking. Lots of animal chatter from the birds and monkeys announcing our arrival. Who else is listening, I wonder. Attention is now fully focused, senses on high alert. I can be tired later, I figure. Adrenaline kicking in, natures way. Fight or flight. Unfortunately flight right now is not an option although I don't really fancy the fight option either. Very calm though. I remember everything about that day.

Trying not to sound like a herd of elephants as we make our way into the heart of the jungle. There's what appears to be a well worn trail to our right but we stay off it, great place for booby traps and mines they told us. Right. Yesterday a patrol from Delta Company got nailed by traps and mines just off the trail. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, now became, killed if you do, killed if you don't.

For some reason the jungle is now strangely quiet as we make our way into the towering triple canopy. We're half on and half off the trail. One slow step at a time. The ultimate multi tasking - keep an eye out in the trees for snipers who are fully camoflauged and perfectly still; be alert for any movement or unusual animal behavior; keep an eye on the ground ahead of you for trip wires made of mono-filament fishing line that is almost invisible in the filtered light of the jungle; look for signs of freshly moved dirt or grass that seem out of place since there's probably  a freshly planted mine or trap there; and finally watch Anderson on point for hand signals. Screw up and you're going to have one of the worst days of your life.

Welcome to the Jungle, we've got fun and games

Even more hot and humid inside this hell hole jungle now. No breeze. Still no sounds, it's completely silent. Something's going down.

A muffled "POP". I look up and see Anderson suddenly stand up and turn around with a puzzled look on his face. Shit, something's wrong. As taught, I move into the brush and crouch down. Another muffled "POP" and I feel a sharp stinging pain in the back of my right hand. Another "POP" and I feel the same pain on the right side of my neck. I'd been shot twice by an unseen sniper. Spurting blood from a pierced carotid artery, I bled out in a matter of seconds and died there in the jungle.

Then I hear a voice yelling in broken English

You're all dead, how does it feel ! 

What a strange thing for God to be saying I thought to myself and I certainly didn't expect God to have a latin accent. But it wasn't God yelling at us, it was First Sgt. Navarra, although at times he thought he was God.

Yes, I had been shot but not with an AK47, but with a pellet from a high powered air rifle.

No, I wasn't spurting blood, but sported two red welts on my hand and neck.

No, this didn't happen in Vietnam, but in the jungles of Panama where we had just completed a daylight patrol exercise as part of our three week Jungle School training which was required before the real thing in Vietnam.

Yes, our entire patrol had all been shot and killed, this time by the training staff with pellet guns. Next time?

Yes, I had orders to be in Vietnam in 3 weeks as an Infantry Platoon Leader. In three weeks this would not be a training exercise.

The reality of my situation had finally sunk in.