A memoir of a Vietnam veteran
BLAM! Pitch black. BLAM, BLAM, BLAM! The second blast took all 185 pounds of me and threw me to the floor. I lost consciousness for a few seconds and sat in the dust, confused, stunned, unable to react.
The alert siren began to scream. BLAM, BLAM, BLAM!! Each blast pushed against my face, my arms, seeming to squeeze the breath out of my chest. The light bulb flickered and bounced on the end of its tether, casting bizarre shapes onto the olive drab walls. I remained befuddled beneath the desk, trying to decide whether to run for the bunker or crawl further beneath the sturdy desk.
My mind worked so slow. I forgot my training and sat. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and felt something soft, wet and warm slide down my lip and drop onto the gritty dust of the concrete floor. "Blood! Oh, shit!"
BLAM, BLAM! Something shot past my legs and hands. I heard a thud on the desk top, something clattered to a stop just beyond my hand, something bounced off the concrete floor and stung my arm where the rolled up sleeve of my uniform made a pad of cloth. In my confusion and the gloom I saw something spinning and jumping on the floor. It spun around like a tiny toy top until its energy was spent and it wobbled to a halt. I reached out to pick it up, to inspect its jagged edges. HOT! I dropped it instantly, and shook my fingers to cool them.
Next