Creative Writing: My First Vietnam War

Taking in the rest of the area I saw mapping throughout the creek bed and even submerged deep within the creek’s waters were some very old pieces of twisted up and rusted out metal of all different shapes and sizes. I had mentioned the junk to the guys and none of them were really sure if the pieces of iron had come from the bridge after having fallen away from its substructure, or if it were just common, every day trash dumped there by a littering scumbag. I myself though had secretly held onto the belief that it may have been parts of the train left over from the old, demolished railway cars that had come crashing down here somewhere that fateful night in 1867. After taking in the view we quickly got to work with setting up camp which took us less than thirty minutes. I had noticed when we’d finished that we had seemed to be getting a little better at doing it each year because I could recall times way-back-when back when we had first started our little camping trips and it would’ve taken us much longer than that.

I had taken to guarding the beer from marauders or the occasional raccoon with a drinking problem and had done an exemplary job at it too. Once we had a nice, even bed of hot coals we went ahead and threw a half dozen or so foil-wrapped potatoes in the fire for baking, and while they cooked we sat back and listened to The Grateful Dead jamming out on the radio Charlie brought. (How fitting for a Halloween night, I remembered