They walked through the dusty town holding their guns across their chest. Mothers pulled their children back inside their huts, and the Vietnam allies questioned the men, trying to figure out where to find the Viet Cong. Dallon just walked along with his platoon, trying not to think about how any one of these people could be with the communist party they were trying to take down. By day they were all just rice farmers, but under cover of night, they supported the Viet Cong. That was the trouble of the fourth quadrant, the trouble that the southern Vietnamese couldn't get past. Anyone could be the enemy.

Wentz stumbled along next to his taller friend, keeping a firm grip on his gun and his eyes on his feet. Dallon could tell he would put himself in a dangerous situation if given a chance; he would try and get himself killed today. That scared the private a great deal, considering the depressed soldier to be one of his best friends in this whole thing. They had trained together and learned to be away from their loved ones together, Dallon was sure that he wouldn't make it through the rest of this war without him.

After Wentz went off to check out a hut with another soldier, Dun came to walk next to the tall man. For a while they just trudged along in silence, not discussing their friend. They short muscular friend had also become very close to Dallon, mainly because he was a mystery. He claimed not to have anyone waiting for him back home, but he wore a cheap plastic ring on his finger and always got mail. It humored to Dallon to think that maybe Dun was gay as well and that's why he hid who his letters were from, but he knew that it probably wasn't true.

Homosexuality wasn't a regular thing, in fact, it was treated as a mental illness. People would avoid you because of GRID and treat you like trash. Dallon didn't want that. Not for himself and definitely not for Brendon. But for another one of the men he was working with right now to share his sexuality would be incredibly unlikely.

Thoughts of getting caught plagued Dallon's brain as he continued to march on through the humidity of the jungle town. It could result in either dishonorable discharge or transferring to a platoon where he was sure to be killed. The discharge wouldn't be the worst thing ever, even if it were dishonorable. It would get him home to see his love. But Dallon figured, either way, he would get to go back, whether it was alive or in a wooden box.

"Weekes, come check this out." Private Dun called me over to where he and Joseph were examining an abandoned hut. "TyJo found the drawing in the dirt over here. You're smart, what do you think of it?"

Dallon examined the ticks and scratches in the dirt. Arrows were pointing around what appeared to be trees and some that looked to go straight through everything. He could feel the creative gears ticking in his brain, trying to comprehend what the markings meant. There were lines drawn and arrows pointing behind and through little markings that resembled trees. Thicker lines went around, and little x's and o's that sat behind the tree-like markings. Then everything clicked into place as he realized the meaning of every dot and box.

"One of you go get Way. He's gonna wanna see this." Dallon ran his hand down his face to wipe the sweat off. "And get a map too."

The soldier continued to make sense of everything, identify what appeared to be rivers and where there were apparent clearings and opening in the forest. By the time his lieutenant walked in and saw the lanky private squatting over the markings in the dirt, Dallon had figured out exactly what he was looking at.

"Whatcha got, Weekes?" Way asked kneeling next to his subordinate.

"Well, sir, it's a battle plan." The private explained as another soldier handed him a map of the quadrant.

Dallon laid the map next to the drawing and lined up the rivers and forests with each other to try and make further sense of the plan in the dirt. Once he figured out where the village they were in was on the map and what rivers joined together like the ones that were sketched in the sand. He now knew exactly where this was going to happen and how everything was going to go down.

"Sir, we need to stay away from the forest on the other side of the rice field." Dallon swallowed the lump in his throat.

"What do you mean private? We have to cross the field to get to where the Vietnam are hiding." The lieutenant retorted, pointing to the spot in the drawing that seemed to represent the Viet Cong hideout.

"With all due respect, sir, we will all be killed if we do that." The private hated to talk back to his superior, but he knew what was in front of him.

"Well then what do you suggest we do instead, Weekes." Way hissed through clenched teeth.

"Well, sir, assuming this map wasn't left here as a diversion, we need to go up the banks on the far side of the west river. It won't be as heavily guarded because they will assume we will cut across the field or come up the wider east river." Dallon mumbled, "But if it is a trap, they can quickly stop us because of the narrowness of the river. I just know for a fact that we can't go across the field into the forest, they have traps drawn all around and no matter what those will be there."

Lieutenant Way sighed looking at the map, then back at the sketch in the ground. The other privates were standing around them, taking in the exchange between their superior and a private that they either didn't know or didn't care about.

"Okay, so what if we send small groups of volunteers through the field and up the west river. Then the larger group will travel up the east river and ambush the Viet Cong from behind." Way used a stick to point to different places without messing up the plan in the soil.

"That sounds like a good idea in theory, but who is brave enough to do that." Dallon thought, contemplating the older soldiers plan.

"Well, I can take one of the groups and then if somebody else wants the volunteer to take the other then -" The lieutenant was interrupted by a voice in the back of the room.

"I'll go!" The sea of soldiers parted to reveal a short, stocky man who had his gun cradled in his arms and a blank stare in his eyes.

"Pete, you don't have to -" Dallon started, realizing what his friend was volunteering to do.

"No, somebody has to do it, and I don't see anyone else volunteering to do it." Private Wentz stood his ground.

"Alright then, we need five volunteers per group. Wentz will take the group through the rice field, and I will take the one up the west river. Weekes you will lead the ambush up the east river. Be ready for anything and may God be with you." The experienced soldier stood and walked through the terrified privates out of the hut.

Dallon stayed behind for a moment longer waiting till everybody else cleared out. Outside he could hear other soldiers volunteering to go on the suicide mission. Wentz squatted down next to the taller and looked at the maps.

"So if I go this direction I should avoid the bulk of the traps." He mumbled to himself, working out a strategy.

"Why are you doing this, Pete?" Dallon questioned, looking over at his friends.

"Because why not? Dallon, you know me better than anyone else in this platoon, you know this something I have to do. I volunteered to be here. I chose to leave my family behind. A member of my family has fought and died in every war that America has fought in, all the way back to the revolution. It is my duty to do this." Pete explained, never meeting his friend's eyes. "Besides, it's not like you could do it. You've got that boy back home."

Dallon stiffened at the mention of Brendon. How did Pete know? Maybe he just meant his quote-unquote brother. Or did he really know? The man's mind went into overload as he tried to figure what his friend meant.

"You mean my brother?" Dallon asked, hoping to receive the answer he wanted.

"Weekes, you and I know both know he ain't your brother." Wentz laughed as he further examined the pathway he would take through the rice field.

"How did you-" Dallon started.

"I saw his picture in your trunk. You folded the girls out of it, so it was just him.  That, plus how excited you get when you read his letters. And don't worry I didn't tell no one. I don't think any of them are smart enough to figure it out anyway." The private laughed standing up from the map on the floor.

"Hey," Dallon called after his friend as Wentz walked out of the hut. "Don't die."

Wentz just laughed as he walked out of the hut to meet the men he was taking across the field. Dallon knew the skill his friend had; he knew that Pete was an incredible leader and could easily get across the clearing with all the volunteers. But he worried that in his sad state of mind, the depressed soldier would become careless with his actions. Dallon shook his head as he walked out of the hut and saw the lieutenant briefing the platoon of the plan ahead.

"Alright, listen up ladies. Wentz will take his group right down the center of the rice field and distract the Viet Cong. I will be leading the next group up the west river to corner them. Private Weekes will be in charge of the rest of the men going up the Eastern river. Your job is to act as a barrier and force the Commies into retreat." Way stood on the back of the truck above the eager looking soldiers.

The scene made Dallon sick to his stomach. Young soldiers eating up the words of their superior, hungry for the adrenaline of a fight. Dallon didn't want to fight; he didn't want to kill anyone for any reason. All the man really wanted was to go home to the boy he loved and hold him tight. He wished he had never left home, that they had just run away together and never looked back. But he couldn't think about that now as he was about to take a whole squad of men up the river into a war zone. Not as his best friend threw himself into the most potentially dangerous situation they had ever encountered.

"Privates! You are to listen to Weekes, he is your squad commander and from this point on his word are direct orders from me. Good luck soldiers, may God be with you." The older soldier jumped off the back of the truck and gathered up his squad.

"Hey Pete," Dallon stopped his friend one last time as everyone went their separate ways, "If things go to hell out there, run. Don't try to be the hero, just run away. I made the mistake not to run once, and it is a mistake I never want to see someone else make."

"Good luck Dallon, see you on the flip side." Pete stuck out his hand to shake his friends.

"The flip side better be the other side of those trees." Dallon joked, taking Pete's hand pulling the shorter into a hug.

He watched as his friend gathered up his volunteers and prepped them to take them to the tree line. When he turned around, those who hadn't volunteered all stood behind him eagerly waiting to hear what he had to say. That's when the soldier realized he had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea how to lead a squad into battle, no idea how to fight the communist army, and no idea how they were going to make it out alive. But he couldn't let any of the privates in front of him know that.

He scanned the crowd, trying to make his eye appear critical. The men standing in front of him were the ones too cowardly to volunteer for the suicide mission their peers were about to undertake. He realized that when he eyes stuck to Private Tyler Joseph. The boy had always been a step behind his class, always completing his task correctly but taking things slower. He was tall but appeared smaller due to his quiet demeanor. Private Dun usually accompanied him, but now stood alone as Dun had gone with the lieutenant up the Western river. Other faces were missing from the crowd as well, like Private Ryan Ross, who was no doubt the first to volunteer to go with Pete. He was almost glad Ross wasn't here though, considering his fellow private would have challenged every decision that he had to make in the dark hour that was coming.

"Alright men," Dallon addressed the men, feeling that calling them 'privates' or 'soldiers' was too formal for someone that was their equal just minutes ago. "Our job is not a hard one, but it is just as vital to the mission. When I look around these faces, I don't see men that were too fool hearted to volunteer to go to their death. I see men that think ahead and know what they are getting themselves into. While some may see that as a weakness, I see that as a strength. This means you will take precautionary steps to not only preserve your own life, but to ensure that the mission is successful. Our task is to block the path of the Viet Cong and prevent them from fleeing. The goal is an unconditional surrender.

"Now once everything begins, and Private Wentz and his team get out into the open, it is going to get loud. There will be explosions and gunshots and lots of noise. We all have to remain quiet with the goal of sneaking up on the Viet Cong. They will be distracted by Wentz and Way's squads, so the hope is that they won't see us coming. I-" Dallon was cut off by a soldier in the crowd.

"The hope? The hope is they won't see us coming! Do you even know what you are doing Private Weekes? What gives the right to boss us around?" The soldier, who Dallon believed was named Lynch, spoke up.

"I-" Dallon was cut off again, but this time by a voice he did not expect to here today.

"Leave him alone, Lynch. If Lieutenant Way trusts him enough to put him in charge, then he must have enough brains to get us where we need to be." Private Joseph turned and yelled at the blonde soldier, giving the taller man that stood at the front a polite smile before encouraging him to continue.

"As I was saying," he cleared his throat, "I have a plan for if we are to encounter the Vietnam soldiers, we will have the boats armed from all sides and we will push them back into the trees where the other two squads will be ready to attack. We will come out of this victorious either way we go. I trust in all of you, and I hope that you will trust in me."

Some of the soldiers cheered after the soldier finished his speech, others talked among themselves, and a few shared skeptical looks. But Dallon was glad they were reacting, a reaction was good, it meant they were listening to him. He looked over the heads of his comrades to see Lieutenant Way at the very back of the crowd. The older shared a smile with him before turning to his group and finishing up the preparations to leave. The leader would make one last speech before the platoon went their different directions.

Dallon sent some of his men to prepare the two skipper boats they would be using to get up the river and had the others get their guns and any other weapons they had ready just in case their plan didn't work, and they had to fight like hell to merely get through it. Having the lives of these men in his hand scared the crap out of him, but he knew that his lieutenant had trusted him to do this, so it had to be him.

The man had never wanted anything like this, never wanted to lead a group of men into battle. That wasn't his dreams. Growing up his biggest dream was what he was living with Brendon right before he had been shipped off. He had been making money off of his stories and getting to travel around the country with someone who loved, but that had been taken away from him. Dallon feared that he might never get it back. He may never get to drive down the back roads to Nevada with his arms snaked around him. Or go down the coast of the Carolinas with the smell of the ocean and the chill causing Brendon to wrap his arms tighter around the older. It made his eyes sting just to think about never getting those moments back.

"Alright Weekes, I wish you the best of luck. And if any of these men give you trouble, remember their name and let me know. I'll set them straight without them even knowing you said a word." The older man clamped a hand on Dallon's shoulder, looking out into the tree line they were about to head into. "I wasn't much younger than you are now when I was a squad leader in Korea. Man, it was different over there, but at the same time it was all the same, we were fighting commies and putting our noses where they didn't need to be. Looking back on it, I made so many mistakes, I was young and arrogant, and I left my best friend to die. Lucky for you, you are nothing like me. You have good judgment, and you know when people are stronger than you, even if it bruises your ego, you know the right decisions to make. I trust that you will make smart choices and I will see you on the other side. Good luck, Private."

Dallon would have saluted the older man, but there were no salutes in a war zone. You could never let them know who was in charge; it could get people killed. He watched as his superior walked away and loaded his men into the boat. Then his eyes fell on Pete giving his men the run down as he stood in front of the bridge that crossed the river that ran through the town before splitting into east and west. Pete would go right through the center, marching right through their front door.

"Alright Weekes, let's do this thing." Another private pat this shoulder as his team passed around them as they loaded the boats.

He got on the first boat and stood on the front of it, looking out into the jungle. Everything was quiet, no sign of the battle that was to come which made everything creepier. There was no scent of blood in the air, only the smell of the rich vegetation and swampy water.

Dallon wanted to go home. He wanted to turn tail and run home to the arms of his best friend and lover. He didn't want to hear the sounds of explosions all around him, only the sound of his motorbike rumbling as he and Brendon drove down the country back roads. But as much as he wanted to run away and get on the first boat back to America, he had been trusted to keep these men safe and to get them through this. He couldn't just leave them to die.

Everything went eerily silent, even the birds and sounds of forest life seemed to go dead. The only thing that could be heard was the soft rippling of the water as the boat traveled through the dense forest. Dallon held his gun tighter as he stood on the front of the boat, anticipating that something was about to happen. Then there was a loud scream that seemed to last an eternity before the sound of a machine gun rang out and echoed all around them.

Everything seemed to explode around them, quite literally as grenades went off and guns were fired. Pete and Lieutenant Way's squads must have been doing an excellent job as distractions as Dallon's group continued to float down the river, untouched by the chaos around them. All the men in the vessel held their weapons tighter as they waited to need to use them. So far the plan was playing out as they had hoped. There was a rustling in the trees around them, and Dallon's eye caught sight of something shiny, something that didn't belong in the green of the jungle.

"Everyone get down." The soldier yelled just as a grenade exploded in the water next to them.

The boat rocked violently as the grenade sent waves through the water that almost dumped half his men in the water. The sound of the explosion made Dallon's ears ring as he fired off two shots in the direction of the shiny thing he had seen earlier, not registering that he could have possibly just killed a man. That man had tried to kill all the soldiers on the boat, so maybe it was okay.

"Stay on alert, shoot anything that doesn't belong," Dallon instructed as the men on the boat recovered and continued to their landing point.

The rest of the ride was quiet, apart from the sounds of battle all around them. Even when they got to the bank and unloaded onto the shore and a scary silence swept over the opening behind the trees. Dallon's eyes scanned the tree line on either side of the clearing, searching for something that shouldn't be there or even something that should and wasn't.

"Why is it so quiet?" Joseph came up behind the squad leader and asked in a whisper.

"Because something is about to happen," Dallon whispered back as they walked towards the edge of the trees.

Just as the walked out into the opening gunshots erupted from all around them. Dallon and the rest of his troop immediately dropped to the ground to avoid the bullets that seemed to fly in from every direction. The soldier couldn't see where the shots were coming from, so he wasn't sure he could fire without accidentally hitting Way's troop that was to come in from the other side of the clearing or Pete's team that was coming in from the side.

"Take cover!" Dallon yelled over his shoulder as more bullets came flying over his head.

His men managed to hide behind fallen logs and bushes so that they couldn't be seen, though the private couldn't be sure that the shots weren't coming from behind them. They were sitting ducks, meaning that their plan of splitting up might work, but at what cost. He gulped as the bullets slowed down and he looked at the men around him. They all had someone to go home to; they all received letters every mail call. He didn't want to be the reason they all died, not when they all had their own Brendon's back home.

Trying to soothe his anxiety-riddled brain, Dallon focused in on the direction the bullets were flying. Considering that the river they had just come off of was the western river and was to the right of him, that meant that north was the direction that the river was flowing. Knowing the cardinal directions, he was able to deduce that the shots were being fired from the North East. Meaning that the bullets weren't even heading towards them, they were targeting someone else. 

None of the shots aimed at the largest group of soldiers, they were fired directly over them to the soldiers that were about to break through the tree line. There was no way for Dallon and his men to get across the field to get a clear shot at the communists, so it was up to Way's squad to take them out. The young soldier had never felt so helpless.

"Does anyone have a radio?" Dallon asked, knowing that one of the men on with Way would also have one.

"I do." A younger blonde private crawled over with his stomach pressed against the ground.

He couldn't have been older than eighteen, which made Dallon have a brief panic attack of the proximity of the private's age to Brendon's. But he quickly shoved down his feelings as he took the speaker off the boy's backpack and tried to signal the platoon across the field. There was static for a while as Dallon desperately begged for him to receive the transmission.

"Eagle squad." Lieutenant Way's voice crackled over the speaker.

"This is Hawk Squad," Dallon replied, using the code names they had discussed before leaving. "Bullets inbound from NE heading directly toward Falcon. We are unable to execute a 56-20, please respond with a plan, or we will have to go in with a 62-29. Over."

What Dallon had said was that they could not go straight across the field, and if they did not receive orders from Eagle squad, they would be forced to go around the tree line and take out the shooters straight on. There were a lot of risks with this plan. It would take a long time, so by the time they get to the Viet Cong, Pete and his group could be dead. It would also be a frontal attack; the enemy would see them coming from a mile away. The best idea was for Way's team to attack from behind, where they weren't expecting it.

"We... approaching... Cong... Falcon..." The radio crackled over as the young boy in charge of the radio desperately fiddled with the nobs trying to find the voice of their lieutenant.

"There's no signal. I guess we are going through with your plan then." He sighed solemnly.

"No, we'll give Way a minute to try and do whatever he was doing before we go off on our own. He may have a plan, and we don't want to interfere with it." Dallon ran his dirty hand across his face, not doing anything to wipe the sweat off his brow

They sat there, under cover of logs and shrubs, their camouflage helping them to blend into their surrounding. After an eternity passed, the bullets ceased, and he no longer imagined the sound the shells ripping through the flesh of his friends and comrades.

"Ha, we did it! We beat them!" Private Joseph stood up with a look of astonishment on his face.

"Joseph get down, wait for the signal." Dallon tried desperately to pull the excited soldier back down among the bushes. 

"But the bullets stopped, what more of a signal do we need." He ignored his leader and stepped out into the clearing.

Just as he did, one last shot rang out, and Dallon did not have to imagine the sound as the shell tore through the flesh of the young man's stomach. Another shot was fired, but its bullet did not fly across the clearing. Shortly after the second shot rang out, Way gave the signal, and Josh Dun burst out of the tree line running to where his friend had fallen.

"Tyler, you idiot, look what you've done." He laughed through the tears that began streaming down his face as he applied pressure to the wound.

"I-I-I-" The private tried to stutter out something, but his friend cut him off.

"Sh-sh-shh, it's okay, TyJo. I know, just please hold on. I can't lose my best friend." Dun held his bleeding friend closer.

"SpookyJim, it hurts. R-re-member when we-we joke ab-out what it would f-feel like to get shot?" Tyler stuttered out.

"I said it would feel like a thousand knives stabbing you, and you said it would feel like a million broken bones." Josh smiled through the tears.

"Y-you win, it f-feels like kn-knives." The young soldier gave a pained smile as his eyes began to gloss over.

"No, TyJo, come on. Don't leave me here, don't leave me in this crappy jungle hell hole. Don't leave me alone." The buff private cried as his friend began to slip away.

Dallon walked over behind the upset man, carefully checking the pulse of the dying boy in his arms. It was weak, but it was there; if they could get Private Joseph to medical care quickly, there was a chance he could survive. He didn't want Dun ever to feel any loss like the one he felt when he was ripped away from Brendon. At least Dallon held on to the hope of seeing Brendon again; Josh may never get that luxury if he loses Tyler.

"His heart is still beating. Someone help me get him on the boats, there is a chance we can save him." Dallon looked up at his Lieutenant who was standing over the three men.

"I'm sorry, even if we did get him back to camp he has lost so much blood already, there is no way he'll survive the trip." The leader wiped his forehead, smearing dark mud across his brow as he did so.

Dallon stared down at the young boy; he couldn't be much older than Brendon. Yet, here he was, dying on the front lines of Nam.
The older watched as it was no longer Tyler lying in front of him, pale lipped and shallow breathed, it was the one thing he loved more than anything in the world. It was Brendon lying in the lush green glass. And that was when Dallon realized the most significant issue they were facing; no one was coming out of this alive. There was no telling how many of Pete's group had survived or if Pete had for that matter. No one was safe until they were on the plane home in a wooden casket.

(a/n: so, this is 5100 words, i probably should have made it shorter)