When We're All Used Up

Chapter 15: The Ants Go Marching

I keep an eye on my surroundings as I march with the men. We walk in lines next to each other, I look back, behind me is Brooke, behind him, Jackson. I let my mind wander, my soul try to heal somehow, with the beautiful ambiance of the Vietnamese jungle. It's all so beautiful and peaceful. I think I could move here when the war is over, but then I remember. I can't. I can't move here. Because we won't win. World War One and Two ended in a couple years. Countries have been fighting for this speck on a map for so long, yet those fucking gooks keep getting back up somehow. I stop myself from thinking, I can't believe that I'd think that, but I keep going. We kill every last one of them, but another one just comes back in for him. My kills don't even matter anymore. I don't even know how many kills I have anymore. I look at everyone. The lines of men, the nearly fifty people here. I stare up, the canopy of the trees blocking the sun, and I remember a song, The Ants Go Marching. And then, I start singing,
"The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah. The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah". People look at me, and one or two people join in.
"The ants go marching one by one, The little one stops to suck his thumb", four more people join in, and everyone goes into one single line.
"And they all go marching down to the ground, To get out of the rain, boom, boom, boom.", five people join in.
"The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah. The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah", ten people join in, and people split into two rows.
"The ants go marching two by two, The little one stops to tie his shoe", I look back and look at the smallest soldier in our platoon. A tiny-ish white man with clothes so big he looks like he is a kid wearing his dad's uniform. He laughs and joins in, along with eleven others.
"And they all go marching down to the ground. To get out of the rain, boom, boom, boom.", fourteen people join in now. Some forty-something people are singing along now.
"The ants go marching three by three, hurrah, hurrah. The ants go marching three by three, hurrah, hurrah. The ants go marching three by three, The little one stops to climb a tree. And they all go marching down to the ground To get out of the rain, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.", we make three lines and add more emphasis to the booms at the end. At this point, at least sixty people are singing.
"SHUT UP OR I'LL KILL EVERYONE HERE", the platoon Sargent says. We all shut up, but it was fun for a bit. I check my M-60 for any major problems or damages. Brooke taps my shoulder and I look back, keeping my body facing forward.
"The hell was that all about?", Brooke says,
"Yeah, what was that all about?", Jackson adds. I look at them.
"I dunno, I was just bored, thought it up, and it just happened.", I tell them. He looks at me, dumbfounded. I look around like I did before. I look left, right, up, down, admiring the beauty of this jungle.

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I lay the ammunition on me to the ground as everyone starts to sit down, I prop up the ammo on a nearby tree, I watch as a large centipede crawls out. I pull up my sleeves and put my hand out for the centipede to walk on. It does, and I look at it. It's a gross but weirdly satisfying looking thing. I watch as the interlocking parts of its exoskeleton move. It's truly an amazing showing of how nature works. It's a miracle of nature, I think to myself. I let it crawl down my hand and back onto the jungle floor. Jackson and Brooke walk up to me and Jackson steps on the poor centipede.
"What the hell?! The thing did nothing to you!", I yell at Jackson.
"The thing is a bug...So what?", he responds. I look at him and squint my eyes. They sit down next to me and I open up my backpack and grab a pack of cigarettes. I tear off the plastic wrapping and then I flip up the top. I grab one and inspect it, the whole thing is white and one side shows exposed tobacco and the other side shows the filter. I pull out my lighter from my backpack, light it and smoke it, I immediately start coughing and I throw away the cigarette.
"Fuck this, I'll give 'em to someone else.", I say, thinking out loud. I reach into my backpack, chucking the cigarette pack into it. I find some gum in the bottom right of the backpack and I get a piece.
"Carlos, man, what the hell's up?", Brooke asks.
"Hm? Oh, no, nothing just doing things, y'know.", I respond. I grab my helmet off my head and I twirl it around, with my fingers on each side of it.
"Hey, man, do you think we're going to win?", I ask Brooke. He takes a deep breath and looks over to me.
"I mean, we're not winning. We keep fighting but we don't make any progress.", Brooke explains. I think about it, I think about my mom, my dad, my old friends. I already saw how much my mom reacted when I told her a kill count I kept track of. Now, I don't even think about it. It helps me sleep at night, knowing that I killed someone like it's nothing. Just a kill count. Human lives being turned into nothing but a number. It helps me think that it doesn't matter. I take in the Vietnamese jungle, the sounds, the smells, sights, and the feeling of the weather. I put my helmet on my face to block out any light, and drift off to sleep.

[Thank you for reading, also, I apologize for the long, long, long, long wait. Stuff in my personal life went horribly wrong but that's nothing for you to be concerned. I plan to update this series every Friday afternoon starting with the next chapter. I appreciate your support and patience with me. I hope anyone out there reading forgives me, if nobody told you. You did great today.]
- Love, S.C.