Patriot Action

My grandfather died fighting the French. His father also.

My father was killed going against the American Advisors.

Now here I lay on my empty belly in a shallow shoulder to toe trench. The jungle floor carpet, leaves in various stage of decay, cover me. A ragged edge woven reed hat with dawn cut vines tucked on completes this hide.

The bugs have started biting. I ain't movin'. My bladder is full to bursting. Now it is draining. I am motionless.

The buzzing, calling, screaming animal voice that is constant begins to slow and break up.

They are coming.

These ones are new. Their noise discipline is lax. I hear them whispering to each other long before the first one passes.

The point man missed me. Good. Now wait.

Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, ... patience ... here he is, number Seven. The rear guard. But he is looking forward.

His clothes are new. Humid damp and sagging, yes, but untorn. Unfaded. Boot soles are thick. I see this as he slow walks past my eyes.

Now I wait 9 heartbeats. The patrol squad will turn the trail bend. This will leave my target and me alone for a moment.

I will need only half of that moment to do what I must.

As the fourth generation fighting for my country's freedom the path is clear.

Conscience calm.

Silently I rise in defense of our homeland.