Back in 'Nam, me and Eric were in the same platoon. That bastard saved my life more times than I can count on my fingers... he saved me 9 times, and I only have 8 fingers left after some amphetamine-charged Laotian bit off the pinky and ring finger of my left hand.
But one fateful evening I was able to return the favor. We were playing a hand of Mississippi Devil poker, you know, where clubs are wild and the winner of each hand got an extra shot of gun oil for his Springfield, when Charlie came out of nowhere. Those bastards were hiding in the trees and waited for nightfall to descend.
*pop*, I kill one of them little sneaks! *pop pop*, I gun down his buddy! All of a sudden I hear this high-pitched scream, like a schoolgirl running from a bee! Out of the nearby bushes comes Eric, stumbling forward and falling to the ground like a drunkard.
"Dey got me, Roy. Those fuckers got me!"
"Hold on buddy, CAS is about to light up this jungle like the goddamn Fourth of July!"
"I'm hit man, I'm fucking hit!"
"Where'd they get you Eric," I asked as I reached for my small medkit. He pointed down to his ribs where I could see a blood stain slowly expanding on his olive drab jacket.
"It's ok buddy, we're going to get through this!"
Two machete-wielding Vietcong charged us, but all it took was a few rounds from my M1903 to put them down.
"Roy, I promise man, if I make it outta here I'm going to work for Playboy. I'm going to mod the shit out the industry forum that we buy, and I'm going to credit you 1,000 posts when you sign up as an active member!"
It was the talk of a desperate man who needed a newfound sliver of hope to keep his senses in line, the gibberish of a wounded soldier. I had to humor the poor bastard to keep his spirits up while we waited for air support.
Another gook, screaming like the Devil himself, unloaded his rusty S&W in our direction. Each bullet kicked up a handful of dirt as his trail of shots came closer and closer to our feet. Luckily, he hadn't hit us by that sixth shot, and I put one between his eyes with my backup Colt M1911A1.
"I'm saving your ass, soldier, you need to make that 2,000 posts," I said with a cocky laugh.
"You got it pal, you got it!"
Just then, explosions that lit up the night sky! Fire towered over the tall trees as our Cobras delivered their payloads. Charlie retreated fast and furious into the darkness of the jungle, and after a harrowing extraction, good old Eric was on his way to the nearest field hospital to get patched up.
I'm still waiting for him to make good on his promise. :disgust
http://www.freakpeek.com/platoon.jpg