The second night of my second "visit" to Vietnam.

I sighed as I stared at the bunk above me. Peter and Jones had come in with their crude humor but I wasn't in the mood for joking. Micky had forced the reality of my leaving the army the first time. I hadn't been entirely truthful about my deportation. It had nothing to do with being sick. That's just what I told everyone when I went home. The real reason I was sent home was for running.

I was much like Jones; young and frightened. But once I got into the flow of camp life, I thought I ruled the world. I thought I knew what war was. I didn't know what war was. War is violence and terror. I didn't fully understand that until I one day my company was up and thrown into the heat of a fire fight. I witnessed my three best friends being murdered. All of them ripped from my side by the bullets of the enemy. I couldn't take it. When I was sure no one was watching I jumped out of the trench and ran into the woods. I ran until I couldn't run any farther.

After three days I had to return to camp for food and was sent back to America. AWOL is the official term.

I enlisted for a second chance. I should have stayed behind and helped my fellow soldiers. I should have risked my life for theirs.

On the second night of my second try I promised myself that I would save as many people as I could. Tork, Jones, and Dolenz were at the top of my list.

Tork: A hippy, need I say more? I was afraid that when it came down to kill or be killed, he would choose to be killed himself. I couldn't let that happen.

Jones: He was just like me. I knew he would run at the first sign of violence. I had to protect him. I had to prepare him.

Dolenz: I wasn't afraid he couldn't kill, or that he would run away, I worried for different reasons. Dolenz's mind wandered and he often couldn't help his excitement. Three times he tried to engage in a conversation with me during drills. I had to reprimand him each time. He needed my guidance, and I could tell that he wanted it. Dolenz had also sparked my interest. From the first moment I'd met him I'd seen something in him. Something I couldn't pin point. I had to save it. I had to preserve it.

The snapping of a twig interrupted my thought. Micky jumped out of his skin and pulled up his gun. He panted and after a moment of silence he let his gun fall and let out a long sigh. Micky laid his head back and closed his eyes. His gun already back in his lap.

"Hey Mick." I whispered into the frigid night air.

"Mike is that you?" Micky said in the darkness.

"Yeah it's me."

"Why are you still up?" Micky asked.

"Why are you still up?" I countered.

"Fair." Micky shrugged.

"Are you okay up there?" I asked.

"No not really." Micky sighed. "Honestly I'm scared. I keep feeling like if I fall asleep something bad is going to happen." The younger boy confessed to me.

"Well so you wanna come down here?" I asked, remembering how I used to feel.

"Nah, you wouldn't want me down there." Micky shrugged.

"Well at least come down here and talk for a minute." I suggested.

Micky climbed down the ladder, gun in hand, and plopped down on the foot of my bunk.

"Now tell me, what do you think is going to happen while you sleep?" I asked.

Micky sighed loudly and spouted out his fear. "I feel like the Viet-Cong and the North Vietnamese are going to attack and that I won't be ready. I feel vulnerable."

"You shouldn't worry." I said with a smirk.

"And why is that?" Micky said with a smile.

"Because I'm here. I'm here to protect you." I said sincerely.

Micky laughed at me. "You sound gay."

"That's not how I meant it." I rolled my eyes. At least Micky was lightening up.

"I know. You meant, you're here for all of us. All three of us." Micky said.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Just a guess." Micky shrugged.

A silence followed and Micky yawned. He looked terrible, as if he hadn't slept in days.

"I guess you'll be wanting to get back to your post then." I joked.

"Well, if your offer still stands, I'd like to stay here with you Micheal, where it's safe." Micky joked. I smiled nodded.

"Get your stuff down here." I directed him. Micky jumped up and grabbed his pillow and pack. He stuffed the pack under the bed and laid down at my feet with his pillow.

I had a feeling that Micky and I would be good friends. He was a sensitive boy but he was nice. I hated that we had to meet in a place like this. The war had been known to kill all innocence. Such a waste. Such a waste.

und': '��