If I Should Die Before I Wake

My name is Brandon O'Reilly. Proud Irish son of Bradley and Tracey O'Reilly.  I am the oldest of four children.  I have two beautiful sisters named Lacey and Stacey, and a little brother named Peter.  It's been about fifteen months since I was home.  The days are long and hot with many rainy nights here in the bush.  Out here you don't get a second chance to get it right. Out in the jungle you do or die is the way of life out here.

The year was 1967, we were on a mission deep into Cambodia behind enemy lines. Our mission was reconnaissance -- to collect any pertinent military intelligence -- observe, identify and report. Our U.S. combat units were deployed beginning two years ago, in 1965.  In America, they say we are baby killers... they say we're out here killing women and children.  How sad is it that they will never understand the cries on the battlefield?  Back home they say "make peace not war".  I sometimes wonder -- why did we, as Americans, come to another country to dictate their government?  We are losing this battle and probably the war too. My Sergeant Kirk Williams, the 30s, a do-or-die, hard-core Marine who would lay down his life to save his men, his older brother was killed a month ago, he stepped on a land mine. His brother's casket only had pieces of body parts, a close casket with a picture on top. The sergeant's father was a high-ranking officer, he was killed as well on the battlefield. I guess he feels he will die as well deep in the jungle somewhere fighting for honor and the flag. I remember my first month in the village.  I spotted a little boy about ten years old carrying a package walking towards my men.

I see this little boy carrying some type of small package in his hand, it was not food. My men and I yell at the boy.  The boy continues to run toward them. I can see with my binoculars wires coming from the bag. I shoot the boy in the leg and he falls as the package explodes. My men are all standing with their mouths open in disbelieve and give me a thumbs up to show me a good job and I guess a thank you for saving their lives. It was the most heartbreaking thing I ever had to do. Shocked, the others run up.  They look down.  Judging by their reactions, there's not much left. I'm supposed to get a medal for saving my men.  They can keep it!  I pay for it every day -- I have nightmares now.  Our own people don't respect what we are doing out here.  They have no idea the things we go through, the mental state we're in.  Our U.S.  government views involvement in the war as preventing a takeover of South Vietnam, part of their own strategy of containment.  The North Vietnamese government and VIET CONG viewed the conflict as a colonial war.  We are losing this war and we've just begun.  We already lost so many young men.  When I first received my draft card, I was so excited, I felt so proud.  I wanted to fight for my country or die trying to save the world... what an honor that would be.  I would die for my country, for the red, white, and blue.  My little brother Pete was so proud of me and especially my Dad.  I am always thinking of my girlfriend Rosa Lee, who thinks the world of me.  I miss her so much, especially on those rainy nights here in the bush.  Rosa was my first and only true love.  I plan to ask her to marry me when I get back home.  We talked about having kids someday but that will wait until we are ready. Boy, do I miss the good old days.

Thank God, I'm scheduled to go home next month -- I can do this. I can see our Jets WHOOSH past in the distance.  Bombing small villages on the horizon.  Dark smoke can be seen for miles. We have some brave Marines here --they all have issues, but who doesn't.

My homeboy from New York, private Eddie Jones, 20, an African-American from Long Island, New York, carrying the radio, trying to fit in. He just wants to make his family proud -- just like me. Private Donald Wilson from Atlanta, getting married to his childhood sweetheart, next R, and R. He may never want to come back here, I wouldn't when my tour ends.

Then theirs Private Tony Chapman, a hick from the deep south of Mississippi.  Seems to hate everybody -- but gets the job done. Private Billy Lopez -- his girlfriend is expecting his first baby any day now. I don't know the other ten Marines out here they all just got in from home. I wish them well, I mean your first days in the bush are so critical. The wrong step on a land mine it's over just like that. I can remember I was still in high school, doing some crazy stuff.  I remember one night -- some neighborhood boys and I broke into some warehouses.   Stole a bunch of stuff we didn't need. I was headed for jail or worse for sure. Until I met Rosa Lee Bailey, she gave me a purpose in life.   Something to live for.  My parents love her like a daughter.

She is my inspiration to live again. I mean she can turn lemons into lemonade like nobody else, she's that kind of a girl.  I could be in jail now or dead if Rosa was not in my life. I think when I get back home I may ask Rosa to marry me now instead of waiting any longer. I really miss her more each day, more than I realize. My sergeant looks at me and says, "stay focused out here corporal." I guess he caught me drifting away in my mind, a big mistake out here. The sergeant gives the command, "okay, listen up -- let's set up here for the night.   Dig in deep and get those foxholes ready before nightfall."

"Corporal Brandon, get your men close by those heavy bushes for cover and protect the perimeters with explosives." I acknowledge and turn to my men. Okay, you heard the Sergeant -- move it!  Chapman speaks, "Let's get this Intel, and get the hell out of here."  "I say we do them all and go home." Wilson gets upset, "Marine, we are not here just for killing."   "We are the best of the best -- that's what we do. We go behind enemy lines, gather Intel, and get the job done." Wilson and Chapman stop digging and stand nose-to-nose. Ready to let the fists start flying. Lopez and Jones pause, waiting to see what happens. I stand between the two men, Do we have a problem here?

Wilson, "No, Corporal O'Reilly." Chapman, "no sir." Lopez, Wilson, Jones, and Chapman and the other Marines dig their foxholes. I can hear bombs explode in the far distance while the men continue digging. We set up a perimeter with Claymore explosives to guard the area. I can hear voices whispers through the foliage.  Closing in on our position. There is dead calm in the dense air. I can hear them moving in the bush. All is quiet now, the moonlight shines through the thick trees. A claymore explodes as a Vietnamese soldier sets off the claymores. Sergeant Williams yells out, "open fire, open fire." "Incoming, incoming." We all open fire for a good fifteen minutes with continuous heavy fire. The Vietnamese soldiers deploy heavier weapons.  Men in their unit take bloody hits, fall dead, and some are wounded. The night fills with gunfire and screams. Jones searches frantically for more ammo, while heavy fire peppers his position. Wilson and Lopez shoot everything in the kill zone.

The Vietnamese soldiers move in the heavy artillery. More Claymores explode in the outer perimeter, sending Vietnamese soldiers flying in all directions.

Bloody Vietnamese bodies are splayed across the jungle. The heavy gun battle continues. The Marines fire desperately but the Vietnamese continue to pound the men without mercy.

The Marines hold, while the Vietnamese, impressed by their tenacity, finally give the order to a ceasefire. The incoming gunfire ends momentarily.  The Vietnamese retreat to their base camp. The sergeant yells out "hold your fire, hold your fire." The battlefield is covered in a dense, drifting fog of smoke. I echo down the line while sporadic gunfire rattles. Hold your fire, hold your fire. The men don't hear me or the Sergeant.  They continue pounding blindly in the dark. Again, the Sergeant yells, "Ceasefire, cease-fire."Finally, the men stop shooting.  The men all look around in a daze. Smoke drifts in plumes and streamers across the battlefield. The Marines check their wounded and the ammunition count.

The Vietnamese soldiers, battered and bloody, limp back to their base camp. A long-dead silence fills the heart of the jungle. I turn to the sergeant, we have a few wounded, sir.  We need to regroup and get our ammunition count for the next round. The sergeant tells me to get ready for round two. Yes, sir, I replied, looking into the distance.  The smoke finally clears and the bright moonlight shines in the empty, torn-up jungle. Man, that was a close one -- on days like these, I wish I were back home with Rosa. The men grab ammo, smoke a  cigarette, ready themselves for round two. Sergeant Williams walks over, "listen up!  Bravo team -- take first watch.  Alpha team, get some rest.  We got a long haul in the morning.  Watch your six -- watch your six." Good my men are on the Alpha team, I need some sleep -- can't seem to focus anymore -- the smoke is killing my eyes -- I can hardly see.   Okay, Alpha team -- dig in deep and try to get some rest. The men dig in for the long haul. I can hear Jones saying, "Sleep, hell -- I'm still wired from this, who can sleep now?"  I tried to sleep with one eye open, that was the norm. But the sleep kicks in and I fall into a deep sleep. Hours pass and it's our turn to keep watch. The smoke from the gunfire is still thick enough to cut with a knife.  I grab my canteen and wash my eyes out, still, my eyes are burning. My Alfa team is spread out like peanut butter on a small piece of bread. Just waiting on death to come or victory to the winner. A hush comes over the thick jungle, suddenly, Wilson falls, a clean shot to the head.  I yell at the top of my lungs, "sniper, sniper." The men scramble for cover.  One Marine runs out to collect Wilson's body -- he falls, shot through the heart. Sergeant Williams comes up from behind. "Corporal Brandon, take some of your men, (he points) head up that hill. Flank that sniper."  "Take him out."  "Yes sir." My men run up the hill staying low to gain position. More gunshots come from the trees ahead.  The situation is escalating. One by one the enemy cuts down the Marines.  No matter where they turn, they're shot down.  Everybody in the Platoon is standing in the kill zone.  Bullets are flying from both sides. Chapman runs for cover, "I'm hit, I'm hit" Chapmen goes down, I call out to the men, "take cover, take cover ." Jones spots movement in the trees, he yells, 

"Sniper, one o'clock!  Sniper, one o'clock." Jones brings his gun to bear but his head explodes.  He falls with the radio still on his back. I can only hug the ground and wait for death with my ammo low and no clear shot. I wait patiently for a clear shot at that sniper. I could see my men hit the ground trying to get out of harm's way.  I could hear their cries of pain in the dark. Gravely wounded, the men scream out for help. Sergeant Williams calls me,  "Corporal,  somebody please get on that damn radio now.  We need air support.  Are you there, O'Reilly?" My voice is low from the smoke, Yes, sir, I'm here sir. I crawl on my belly towards sergeant Williams. He asks me if I was okay, I replied I was good, no injuries. But the men sir, they are all dying out there, wounded and that sniper is still out there. Sergeant Williams makes a run for the radio to get air support. Before he can make a few feet, a direct hit from the sniper right to the head. I lay there looking at his lifeless body. Am I next, I wonder, I can't hide from him. It's getting close to morning, the sun will be up soon. It's very quiet, where is that damn sniper. I hear movement, I hear movement, I empty my clip into the areas of the sniper, now I'm out of ammo. I don't hear the sniper moving or anything else in the jungle. Is he dead? I can't tell the smoke is unbearable to see anything. I stay on my belly hidden deep in the bush.  A few men call out in agony and pain, but I can't get to them. A dead calm covers the field of the dead.  I can still hear the cries of the brave men still alive.  The night was long and cold and bloody.  I can smell the scent of death all around me.  I feel no pain as the bullets pass my head and shoulders.  I fear not for I am still here. All alone in the dark waiting for the sunrise to uncover my hidden body. I can hear Bombs Explode nearby while the cries for help come few. The mud is turning red with their Blood pouring out their bodies.  I can hear some screams from a distance while the bombs explode around me. My eyes are starting to burn again from the smoke.  I can tell my hearing is slowly fading in and out like an echo in a tunnel.  My hands are shaking from shock. I'm still pointing an empty gun towards the enemy I can't see. Smoke drifts across the battlefield as the moon shines through.  The ground shakes with explosions from a distance. The heavy smoke blinds me as the bombs hit closer to me.  I try to scream out to my men but no one hears me.  I try to move to help my men but my legs will not move... they feel so cold.  I try to crawl on my belly but I can't, where is this blood coming from? Oh my God, I've been hit all this time, I'm bleeding out bad.

The Viet Cong pass me by.  How can they not see me?  I can't see where I am but I can see my men covered in blood and the cries have stopped now. My God, they were alive all this time... in pain with no help.  I could not save one... we were not just soldiers, we are Marines. My body is getting cold but I feel no pain -- this is insane!  Where is our backup team?  I am all alone.  The cries from my platoon are gone, dead, and passed on.  There is dead silence in the air.  Did they pray to their maker before they died? I don't want to die like this -- lying in the mud with no help of getting out.  My Mom and Dad, my sisters and brothers.  I will never see you again.  I miss them already and my Rosa Lee, the love of my life -- and for what?  I am dying for what I believe is for my country. Our great country that believes in me. I fight for justice and the American people.  I fight for my country and the honor of my family and friends. Please forgive me for my sins, and I'm sorry Rosa Lee, for not coming home as promised, and most of all, thank you for loving me.

Brandon takes his last breath and dies as the sun comes up to meet the sky, with a bright glow that fills the horizon. The few and the brave sleep forever into the night. We will always remember our fallen heroes.

Thank you for your service.                                                                                         

THE END