This is the prolouge and first chapter to my Vietnam warfic Back To Hell. It's probably going to be a bit more mature, so he aware of that. Please let me know what you think. And now, enjoy!



1: Jack Baker woke up suddenly, as if from a nightmare, and was greeted with the usual sounds that accompanied a flight to a patrol. The THUMP-THUMP-THUMP of the UH-1 chopper, along with a full crew of shouting marines made him wonder how he had managed to fall asleep in the first place. Habit, he guessed. He turned his head and shouted to the pilot, "How close are we to drop?" "Ten, fifteen minutes. Be ready, Sergeant." Jack groaned and checked his M-16 again. Clip was good, full. Round was chambered. He ejected the round, loaded it into the mag, loaded the mag in, then rammed the slide home. There was something reassuring in little rituals. Gun cleanings were just as calming. He checked each of his men. Most were chattering away happily. Some of the ones he'd known and lead longer were checking their own weapons and equipment. His RT, David Hayes, a marine he'd known for most of his second term in Vietnam tapped him on the shoulder, the pointed toward his sidearm, then Baker's. Baker smiled. The men watched each other's backs, and had been the closest thing to friends that anyone could be during wartime. He went through the same routine with his M1911 that he did with his M-16, then checked his RT's weapons and equipment, which was as much for Jack's safety than David's. A Radio Transmitter was an officer's only link to help if things got really bad. Having technical difficulties happen could mean death, and it wasn't worth losing men because you didn't check your equipment. He finished his once-over of David's equipment, then patted his shoulder three times as a sign that he was good to go. He didn't bother trying to yell over all the noise. The pilot turned to Baker and yelled, "We're here, pop the smoke.", then turned to the co-pilot and said something he didn't hear. Baker leaned over and pulled the pin on a smoke grenade, quickly dropping it down. The grenade bounced on the ground once, then began to spew green smoke, which was quickly stirred up by the Huey's rotors as it began to descend.



2: Baker hopped off the chopper as it hovered slightly above the ground. David jumped off shortly after and the rest of the marines followed through. Baker popped another smoke grenade off, this one purple, to indicate a successful landing to the other landing patrol. He waved off the Huey and waited for the other landing patrol's purple smoke. After a minute it did, and Baker reached into his flak jacket pocket, retrieving his garrison cap and putting it on. He turned to Hayes, now able to talk normally. "If there are any gooks out there, they know we're here now." David grunted in acknowledgement. Baker then turned to his platoon and barked out an order to form a wedge formation, which was essentially a V, formed behind the pointman. He ordered a meter spread, with David to his right, close enough to consult if he needed to. With everyone set in their positions, he began to walk the patrol into the jungle. He'd been over the map several times, and he and David both had the map on them to consult if needed. The patrol was a relatively short one, but potentially dangerous. The route took them through two plains and a good amount of jungle. It would be a straight walk forward to the extraction point. It would be short, but long enough that some of the marines might get bored and make mistakes. The straight forward path and loud landing would mean any Vietcong would know they were there, and could easily set up traps in time for the platoon would run into them. To top it all off, the nearest help was a good ten or twenty minutes run from his own patrol's location. Most of the men were calm and generally in good condition psychologically. A few, again the marines that had been with him longer, were a bit edgier, but still moderately relaxed. David was just as on edge as he was. Walking through the first jungle path wasn't a big deal, besides being irritating to walk through. The first clearing made him a little uneasy, and he kept an eye on the villagers herding their water bo until he reached the second jungle path. Sometime through the second jungle path, David pulled a cigarette pack from his helmet band, lit himself one, and tossed the pack to Baker. Hesitating (the Vietcong could smell marines easily, especially if they were smoking, and while they weren't exactly being stealthy, the cherry on a cigarette would stand out in the dark colors of the jungle), he finally decided that having calmed nerves outweighed the risk. After all, he thought, everybody had to die from something. He lit himself a cigarette and tossed the pack back to David, he replaced it back into his helmet band. Now they had nearly cleared the second jungle path, and had reached the three quarter mark of the patrol. By this time, as he'd feared, the men began to grow bored, and idle chatter got louder. He motioned Hayes closer. If something went down, he wanted Hayes to be right there. There was a small camp with some civilians were bustling around, and Baker past a few yards away from it unscathed. He was about to stop the patrol to report in when the camp exploded, and several marines cried out in pain. Before he could react, another marine to his right screamed out in pain, and he hit the ground immediately as all hell broke loose. He switched the fire mode on his M16 from safe to full-auto and fired off a few rounds forward. Bullets whizzed by all around, men screamed, grenades went off, and Baker, having been in many firefights in his term and a half, panicked.





3: Jack Baker quickly calmed himself down, taking deep breaths and trying to figure out the situation. He guessed there were at least three casualties in the explosion, and one to his right. He figured several more were already wounded in the fighting. He crawled around, looking for David, and found him slumped face-down in the grass. He got up halfway and moved quickly to David, then dropped on his stomach again. He turned David over, and found the entrance wound. He had been shot at the right collarbone, and had passed out. He was bleeding badly. Baker immediately called for a medic, but to no avail. Spotting a nearby machine gunner, he crawled over. "Where's the medic?" The M60 was loud, ear splitting. Baker had to scream, and was fighting back panic. The grunt didn't hear him. Panicked, Baker looked around and spotted the medic, face down in the dirt, obviously dead. He rushed back to David and checked David's radio. The bullet that hit David was probably lodged in; there was no exit wound. But another bullet had hit the radio, it was fried. He cursed. They'd have to fall back, and with the radio gone, the other platoon wouldn't know what the situation was, but would no doubt hear the fighting. They were going to have to fall back. "Pop red smoke and fall back, we're getting the hell outta here, let's go!" Baker took out a red smoke, pulled the pin, and gently tossed it in the Cong's direction, signaling that help was needed, and spread David out. He wouldn't be able to remove the radio pack in time, but he couldn't leave him behind. He began to hoist him over his shoulders, and ran.





4: David had been assigned to Jack's unit shortly after Jack had arrived in Vietnam for his second tour. He was fresh faced, 17, young, wore glasses. He was very much the image of a young kid who was too cocky for his own good. He had joined the Marines on his own will, and if nothing else, had spirit. Jack liked the kid, and kept him close during firefights for his safety. David soon learned the ropes, and quickly became Baker's second-in-command. And now he had let him down. They might as well have been brothers, and David certainly wouldn't have let Baker get shot. Baker cursed himself over and over, pleading with God for David's life. He reached the second clearing, and ordered his men to dig in, popping another smoke grenade. He took a quick headcount, six men dead, the rest either wounded or ok. He didn't have time to check David's vitals before fighting started up again. Utterly pissed, Baker loaded in a full magazine a rammed the slide home, firing wildly into the direction of the enemy forces, hoping that he'd kill at least one of the sons of bitches. He cursed their existence, and the whole goddamned war. One of the machinegunners was hit, and rolled on his back groaning. Baker stopped reloading his third magazine and noticed the downed gunner. He immediately got up and sprinted for the M60, checked the mag, cocked it for good measure, and fired a full burst into the enemy's direction, screaming. He didn't care anymore. The gooks had killed his men and injured David and the situation was FUBAR and he just didn't give a shit anymore. Running out of ammo, he pulled another magazine off of the wounded gunner, now struggling for life, reloaded the M60 and fired another volley, screaming any curses he could think up. Pure adrenaline raced through him, and if he could strangle every single one of the rotten bastards he would. He ran out of ammo just as a small group from the other patrol reached them, including a radioman and the other platoon's sergeant. "What's the situation?" the sergeant yelled. "RT is down, radio is fried. They've taken seven men at least now." the sergeant nodded. "We've got a line with the FOB, they're gonna drop napalm, just need the co-ords." "Well what're you waiting for, do it!" Everything went fuzzy for Baker as the RT radioed in the coordinates for the drop. He only knew that he hoped they all burned. Minutes after the coordinates were called in, two Phantom jets dropped the napalm, and the jungle ignited with flame. He could hear the almost inaudible screams of the burning Cong. He stood up and walked a few feet away from where the three men had waited. The machinegunner had died. He watched the flames swirl around, engulfing more of the jungle. War is hell, he thought, and then everything swirled around, and he hit the ground. Darkness.



Chapter 1: When Sergeant Jack Baker woke up, two nights and three days had passed. He had awoken in his hooch, his undershirt stuck to him with sweat. His head hurt like hell, and he groaned. Around the hooch men chattered away, smoked or played card games. One man, nicknamed Grinch for being a 'mean one', noticed Baker and greeted him loudly. "Hey, sleepin' beauty, you're finally awake! How ya feel, sarge?" Baker groaned again and replied tiredly, "Like a million bucks, Grinch." Grinch smiled and threw down his poker hand. Three of a kind. Not a great hand, but he won the pot. He scooped up the $10 and deposited it into the pocket of his flak jacket. The other two marines who had been playing with him threw down their hands angrily. Baker turned over to look himself in the mirror behind his bunk pillow. His dark brown hair was a mess, and his beard had become scraggly after a few days without upkeep. He was a young man, 25, though old compared to many of the teenagers in the Marines today. Compared to the many he had lost in the ambush... "Hey Grinch." "Yeah, Sarge?" "How long have I been out?" "Two days, sarge. They didn't want to keep you in the infirmary." Grinch's voice got notably quieter. "They were full with everyone else." "And Cpl. Hayes?" Grinch said nothing. Expecting the worse, Jack quickly put on his jacket and left the hooch for the infirmary. Outside it was warm, humid, but much cooler than it was during the day. Even during night the base was busy, and soldiers were pretty leisurely. Night was a time of quiet and relaxation for many of the grunts who had never experienced combat before. Walking at a brisk pace to the infirmary, he could tell they had a hell of a time after the ambush casualties had arrived. He arrived at the infirmary but was stopped at the door by an MP, who told him that he wouldn't be able to see Hayes, and that only being an MP, he didn't know the condition of any specific patients, just that the doctors and corpsman were tired. Baker retired to his bunk for the night.