Marking Time
by
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The hospital staff had worked quickly and quietly, while I had slept and the ward was bulging with wounded soldiers transferred from Walter Reed Hospital. The soldier in the baby bed was about twenty years of age, dark haired, of fair complexion and about three feet tall. The lower half of his body from the waist down was gone, not by amputation, but by the force of the explosion of the booby trap. A series of tubes pumped the life supporting drugs into the shell of what had once been a whole man, while hoses carried the waste materials into plastic bags hanging from the bed rails. The lower arteries had been joined together in an attempt to connect and circulate the blood through his body. The right arm and shoulder and the rear portion of his head had been blown away. His head was suspended from the mattress by a series of straps attached to the headboard of the baby bed. His left arm had become a hive for the swarm of needles, tubes and hoses that had found a home. A plain gold wedding band on one of the two remaining fingers twinkled in the bright sunlight shining through the window. This could have been me! I could have stepped on that booby trap in Devil's Alley had Corporal Panier not saved me! My God, how you have spared me! My wounds and pain had become so insignificant in comparison to this soldier. I couldn't hold back the tears and didn't want to chance the soldier seeing me cry, thinking my tears were pity. I rolled onto my right side and discovered Harris, sitting on the edge of his bed crying. He looked at me and shook his head, there were no words exchanged, because there were no words that could possibly describe the feelings we silently shared. The nameless soldier was our brother in arms and although time marches on creating distance from memory and pain, I find myself still MARKING TIME. The Surgeon stepped over my body, knelt at my right leg and barked an order in Vietnamese to the two assistants. The young soldier did not responded to his order and the Surgeon repeated the order. The young soldier responded by snapping to attention and spoke a few words to the Surgeon, who immediately became upset. It was obvious the youngster wanted no more of the torture exercise. This refusal to obey an order would cause the Surgeon and the North Vietnamese Army to loose face and was not acceptable behavior. The Surgeon motioned toward my right leg, indicating he wanted the soldier to hold the leg securely. The young soldier shook his head no, a shot rang out and he fell across my body. A majority of his head had been blown off by a shot fired from a captured American .45 pistol. Point blank range and a 230 grain bullet did it. The kid's comrade, his buddy, dropped him quietly and without emotion, "insubordination will not be tolerated", said the Surgeon as the shooter dragged the body away. I knew I would be the next to die. "I think we have enough time to take care of you", said the Surgeon looking at his watch. Another gook replaced the dead young soldier and the games continued. "I think you are going to loose this right leg", said the Surgeon as he made the next incision below my scrotum. The right thigh had become infected and was sore as hell. The slightest movement or resistance caused tremendous pain and I screamed in agony. I found myself in tears, crying for my mother. As a kid when I was sick or in pain, Mom was always there for me. She would kiss away the tears and a fresh bandaide or cookie would do the trick. "You are crying for your mama!" exclaimed the Surgeon, "a big boy like you, is crying for his mama". He must have thought this was funny and shared it with the soldiers that were assisting him. They all had quite a laugh and the Surgeon kept chuckling as he removed the diamond shaped flesh from the right inner thigh. "Why are you doing this to me?" I asked the Surgeon as he wiped the scalpel on the torn green boxer shorts. "You have committed crimes against the Army and the people of North Vietnam", he answered searching for the plastic case. "Innocent adults and children have died as a result of American bombing missions in Hanoi", he continued. "All Americans must be punished for these crimes. The peoples of North and South Vietnam wish to unite and your American forces are oppressing them!" "I can't see anyone wanting to unite with a country that robs villages of food, rape and kill the people, educators and missionaries", I said. "What has been done to me, during the past four days, is criminal and against all rules of engagement and treatment of captured soldiers agreed upon in the Geneva Convention". "I did not participate in the Geneva Convention", said the Surgeon with a smirk.
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About the Book
A compelling story about a handful of young Marine Recons thrust into a series of adventures and the horrors of war. The book tells of the brotherhood shared among people who face danger and share a common cause. The reader may follow these young warriors as they seek out and engage the elusive Viet Cong. Then they are sent on a death mission by an overly career-oriented Commanding Officer. Follow along as they parachute deep into enemy-held territory to destroy long-range artillery and are almost wiped out by ambush! Then they are ordered to attack an enemy-fortified position with only one squad of Marines. Some are captured, tortured, and killed as they resist disclosing valuable information during interrogation or in an attempt to escape. Share as their belief in God, Country and Corps sustain them during this horrific ordeal. The adventure continues as they are separated during rescue and treated at various medical facilities until being reunited in Japan. Follow along as they attempt to take their place in a society that rejects them for fighting an unpopular war. Struggling through medical problems, personal trauma, and rehabilitation, they must deal with rejection and plans of suicide. Among all this turmoil, they encounter a senior ranking officer who reinforces their belief in humanity and encourages them to press forward. Finally, honoring a pact that was made, they somehow overcome these obstacles and become productive members of society.
About the Author
Robert Kincaid enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1967 and completed Boot Camp at Paris Island, S.C. After specialized training he was assigned to the 3rd Marine Division in the Republic of Vietnam where he served as a Rifleman, Machine Gunner and S2 Scout. He participated in combat action during such Campaigns as; Operation Ford, Houston, Thor, Lancaster II, Scotland II, Pegasus, Kentucky, Napoleon, Salem, and the Battle of Foxtrot Ridge. His decorations and awards are the Purple Heart and the Combat Action ribbon. He is Parachute qualified and has participated in joint NATO parachute activities in the Federal Republic of Germany. Mr. Kincaid holds the 7th Degree Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do, and, as a former Department of Defense Special Agent, has performed personal and physical security for Secretaries of Defense Caspar Weinberger and Frank Carlucci. He has a Master of Ministry Degree and is employed as a Veterans Employment Representative.