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Historical Fiction

The Cigarette on the Beach

About a soldier in the Vietnam War and his story with a cigarette

Dec 9, 2024  |   4 min read

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The Cigarette on the Beach
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We arrived at night at the beach of V?ng T�u in Vietnam it was cold and our Battalion Commander was already preparing our tents. The cook, Butcher, my childhood friend who was also chosen to fight in this war, decided to take a break from all the chaos of the battle by preparing a nice stew of meat and other herbs.

The food was delicious, and the feeling of real food was a break from all the chaos I've felt since I arrived in this battalion. Early in the morning, when he woke up, the Commander got into the mood of the night before and announced to everyone a day of rest.

- Everyone! Relax day!- He said with Butcher behind him

- You said yesterday that it wasn't a good idea- Butcher said

- Yes, I changed my mind, with some time to relax our soldiers can fight better tomorrow- But if they invade the bases

- Butcher said referring to the Vietnamese

- We almost dominated this territory they don't even know that we create a base here

Screams took their place as this relaxed day was the possible best day we will always have in a context of war. The soldiers started to do their own stuff, ones returned to sleep, Butcher started to cook some food and Commander picked up some photos from his family and some children's paintings

I decided to go to the beach, and immediately took my box of cigarettes that reminded me of my life in my homeland. The sound of the waves and the feet in the sand almost made me forget my real goal there. I watched the sky and the horizon with only my cigarette in my mouth.

The cigarette I held between my fingers was almost a consolation in the middle of chaos, my safe point. The smoke rose and dispersed by the hot wind, and for a moment, this smoke allowed me to forget the battles and fears that accompanied us every day. The bitter taste of the ashes filled my mouth, while I finally felt a comforting sensation in the middle of the Vietnamese beach.

Before I could react, the region on my back lit up with the brightness that I could hardly open my eyes. The impact of the grenade pushed me towards the sea. Grains of sand were thrown to my eyes, I knew I had to run but not where. The smell of the smoke from the grenade at this moment was confused with the smell of cigarettes, as well as the chaos of the battle with the calm of the beach.

With speed I ran and entered a low forest in the region, I didn't even know the way back anymore, my only thought was to survive. In a few seconds, the explosions intensified, the shots echoed everywhere, fear and adrenaline dominated my body, and I almost didn't respire anymore as I was trained to hide. My panting and my desperation were a weapon for any potential enemy to find me.

But it was in that moment of panic that I realized. When I was pushed by the grenade, my pack of cigarettes, my only consolation, was lost and the hope of finding it did not exist. In the rush to flee, I had left him behind, on the hot sand or the icy sea, in fact, I didn't even know when I had fallen. The thought made the air around her seem even more suffocating and intense. The fight for survival now took priority,

but a part of my brain, almost irrelevant in the face of adrenaline and fear, lamented the loss of the pack and the consequent loss of normality.



I didn't have time to stop to think, behind me I heard tracks and soon in a single attack, I pulled my field knife and hit the bastard. Only one attack was necessary, my anger at having lost the only thing that brought normality to my life was all expelled in this single attack. I heard the screams of my colleagues in the battalion as I saw the forest on fire and coming towards me, I knew that it was impossible to go back and take my weapons just as it was impossible to recover my friends and my cigarettes.

For hours, I crawled through the forest, avoiding the gunfire and the various fires that were going on, trying to survive. When night finally fell, he was exhausted and his nerves could no longer process the events. But in some corner of my mind, a memory still haunted him, the momentary peace on the beach, the bitter taste of cigarettes, and the feeling that, for a moment, he had belonged somewhere else, a place that was now the only thing he could call home.

The next morning, fear and memory took over my mind. With my team dead there was no reason to continue fighting, I finally decided to return to my freedom even if it cost my life. In an unknown land where I do not even know the language, the future is not even a possible imagination.

On my way to the beach where I lost my cigarette. Following the sound of the tranquil waves crashing against the hillside and the warm sunlight on my face.

I find my cigarette thrown there as if it had no owner or importance. The taste was still the same but with a hint of regret, what if he had fought? What if you hadn't come here? Maybe no one had to die. The smoke from my cigarette takes shape like the body of the man I killed, remembering the moments of the previous day.

My now reflective mind can only process a single question "Who started the fire?" while the weaves and smoke dominate all that beach now almost destroyed because of the war.

The sound of footsteps around me is heard but I don't care, I just want to live in this moment. The first moment of freedom and caution in the chaos of this war

- POWWW!!



Comes out right behind me piercing my chest as I see a Vietnamese soldier with his pistol in his hand. For a moment I am distracted by the smoke coming out of his caliber, and...

I can't see anything else

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