Greetings from Somewhere In Vietnam for Emmatheslayer
Title: Greetings from Somewhere In Vietnam
Recipient: Emmatheslayer
Rating: PG-13 (so much swearing)
Word Count: 1271
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: A glimpse into John Winchester’s time in the service. For the prompt ‘John’s time in the service. What does he do? What was his uniform?’. There’s only brief a mention of his uniform, but I hope it’s otherwise what you hoped.
August 14, 1970
Richie,
Greetings from somewhere in Vietnam.
We were dumped by helicopter at our new assignment yesterday. Not a lot of details yet. (Not that I could include them here if I had them.) Mostly doing reconnaissance, if the rumors are to be believed. Still settling in and awaiting final assignments, but since our unit just rotated in, I’m guessing it’ll be night time patrol for us.
How the hell are you, man? What’s happening back home? How’s Evie? Columbia? I still can’t imagine you at college, but you made the right call. You’d hate this. I’d be lying if I said I don’t hate this a little bit too. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not sorry I enlisted. At least it was my choice. I’m here because I want to be. Enlistment would have been in the cards for me even if we weren’t at war. Most of my squad though were drafted and man, let me tell you they’ve got a lot of opinions about it, and the war. (You’d get along really well with some of these guys.)
It’s exhausting. Seriously, I’m so goddam sick of listening to people’s bullshit politics. Most of these guys have never left their neighborhood before, never been out of the country, or even talked to someone from another country, but damn if they aren’t all international relations experts. I’m not claiming to be any better. (You know that before all this, the furthest I’d been from Normal was when we went to the state finals last year.) But Jesus Christ, I’m not pretending I know fuck all about why we're in this war either.
That’s been one of harder adjustments, dealing with the personalities. There are people from all over here. I never would have imagined that being from New York was so fucking different than being from California or Georgia. It’s like they’re all from different countries. They’re certainly not anything like anyone from Normal. I’m just trying to find where I fit in all of it. I’m one of the youngest guys here. Some people think they can take advantage of that.
I don’t want you to worry though. I think I’ve found a good group of guys to watch my back. We all started our six-month tour at the same time. Hopefully, some will choose to re-up and hang in for the longer tour. That’s my plan. (There’s a bonus for doing thirteen months; I plan to take them up on it.) There’s no guarantee we’ll stay with the same unit. People rotate in and out all the time, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Between you and me, this is all a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’m glad to have a group of guys I trust to have my back.
Anyway, tell me something good. How’s the team doing? Dewey get his head out of his ass yet?
John
September 2, 1970
Richie,
Do you know what no one tells you before you head off halfway across the world to some foreign country you’ve only ever seen on a map? They don’t tell you about the fucking bugs or the rain or the heat. I thought boot camp had prepared me for this shit. I was wrong. Honestly, I don’t know which ones worse.
Our squad’s been on night patrols (called it) for the past two weeks. Between the mosquitoes and the ants, there isn’t a part of me that isn’t chewed up. It isn't leeches on your balls (and let me tell you how fucking awkward helping some guy get leeches off his scrotum is), but it’s irritating and painful. Without mosquito netting, which none of us are carrying around on patrol, it’s impossible to keep them off you. Just one more thing to deal with.
At least the rain keeps the insects in check. I imagine it’ll be much worse during the dry season. The rain brings its own set of problems, but it’s all a tradeoff I guess. I’m pretty sure I’ve got the beginnings of a serious case of trench foot and maybe hypothermia. The problem is we’re never dry. It’s so damn humid; our uniforms are always damp. During the day you feel like you’re walking around in a sauna suit then spend the night just trying to stay warm. It’s shocking how cold it is at night, especially with how hot it gets during the day. It’s weather whiplash. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to these next few days of drying out at base camp.
Sometimes I feel like this whole goddam country is trying to kill me. Ha-ha
John
November 2, 1970
Richie,
Thank your Mom for the socks. I’m the envy of the squad. Joking aside, they’ll come in handy while we’re out in the field. Dry socks are like gold around here. And thanks for the updates, I can’t believe Evie is going to actually marry that fucking idiot Tanner. Some guys have all the luck. Your Dad must be shitting bricks. He’s always hated him.
As for everything else, I’m fine. I promise. You know they only show worst of it on the news. We’re not on the front lines. We’ve hardly seen any action. We’ve had more casualties from land mines than anything else. I’m staying as safe as I can. I have every intention of getting the fuck out of here in one piece.
No matter what you hear, or what I say, it’s not all bad. I’ve learned a lot. About myself. Other people. I came into this a fucking rube. I’m better for this experience…I think. I hope. I’m a stronger person than when I got here that’s for sure. I’ve learned I can endure more than I thought possible-physically and mentally. I’m more capable and more driven than I ever knew. This place has roughened up my edges. It’s definitely knocked that chip Coach Walker was always complaining about, right off my shoulder.
I’m not trying to make light of it. I’m not. Like everyone else here, I’m afraid. This place is so unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I wish I could explain how it feels out there. I don’t know how to describe how oppressive the jungle is. I wish I could describe the constant noise; the anxiety it breeds. It’s a living thing. Every breaking twig, every rustling leaf feels like a threat. I wish I could explain how the rain mutes the world, so all you hear is the rain pounding your helmet. It drowns out everything.
The enemy is everywhere and nowhere. At least it feels that way when we’re out on patrol. But it’s not something I think about. I can’t allow myself to think about it. I’ve seen up close what happens when you allow yourself to wallow. We’ve got a couple of drug addicts and a few basket cases to show for it. As far I’m concerned, I’m out here doing a job and it’s a job I’m good at. Tracking, hunting our enemies, it feels good. It gives me purpose; gives all of this death and sacrifice meaning. I get there’s more to it than I what I see here, but Richie, I have to believe I’m doing the right thing. How could I live with myself otherwise?
I understand why you feel you do. I wish I had your confidence. As it is, I don’t know that there’s a wrong or right answer. I’m just trying to survive it all.
I’m glad to have you in my corner. Keep fighting the good fight.
John
Recipient: Emmatheslayer
Rating: PG-13 (so much swearing)
Word Count: 1271
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: A glimpse into John Winchester’s time in the service. For the prompt ‘John’s time in the service. What does he do? What was his uniform?’. There’s only brief a mention of his uniform, but I hope it’s otherwise what you hoped.
August 14, 1970
Richie,
Greetings from somewhere in Vietnam.
We were dumped by helicopter at our new assignment yesterday. Not a lot of details yet. (Not that I could include them here if I had them.) Mostly doing reconnaissance, if the rumors are to be believed. Still settling in and awaiting final assignments, but since our unit just rotated in, I’m guessing it’ll be night time patrol for us.
How the hell are you, man? What’s happening back home? How’s Evie? Columbia? I still can’t imagine you at college, but you made the right call. You’d hate this. I’d be lying if I said I don’t hate this a little bit too. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not sorry I enlisted. At least it was my choice. I’m here because I want to be. Enlistment would have been in the cards for me even if we weren’t at war. Most of my squad though were drafted and man, let me tell you they’ve got a lot of opinions about it, and the war. (You’d get along really well with some of these guys.)
It’s exhausting. Seriously, I’m so goddam sick of listening to people’s bullshit politics. Most of these guys have never left their neighborhood before, never been out of the country, or even talked to someone from another country, but damn if they aren’t all international relations experts. I’m not claiming to be any better. (You know that before all this, the furthest I’d been from Normal was when we went to the state finals last year.) But Jesus Christ, I’m not pretending I know fuck all about why we're in this war either.
That’s been one of harder adjustments, dealing with the personalities. There are people from all over here. I never would have imagined that being from New York was so fucking different than being from California or Georgia. It’s like they’re all from different countries. They’re certainly not anything like anyone from Normal. I’m just trying to find where I fit in all of it. I’m one of the youngest guys here. Some people think they can take advantage of that.
I don’t want you to worry though. I think I’ve found a good group of guys to watch my back. We all started our six-month tour at the same time. Hopefully, some will choose to re-up and hang in for the longer tour. That’s my plan. (There’s a bonus for doing thirteen months; I plan to take them up on it.) There’s no guarantee we’ll stay with the same unit. People rotate in and out all the time, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Between you and me, this is all a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’m glad to have a group of guys I trust to have my back.
Anyway, tell me something good. How’s the team doing? Dewey get his head out of his ass yet?
John
September 2, 1970
Richie,
Do you know what no one tells you before you head off halfway across the world to some foreign country you’ve only ever seen on a map? They don’t tell you about the fucking bugs or the rain or the heat. I thought boot camp had prepared me for this shit. I was wrong. Honestly, I don’t know which ones worse.
Our squad’s been on night patrols (called it) for the past two weeks. Between the mosquitoes and the ants, there isn’t a part of me that isn’t chewed up. It isn't leeches on your balls (and let me tell you how fucking awkward helping some guy get leeches off his scrotum is), but it’s irritating and painful. Without mosquito netting, which none of us are carrying around on patrol, it’s impossible to keep them off you. Just one more thing to deal with.
At least the rain keeps the insects in check. I imagine it’ll be much worse during the dry season. The rain brings its own set of problems, but it’s all a tradeoff I guess. I’m pretty sure I’ve got the beginnings of a serious case of trench foot and maybe hypothermia. The problem is we’re never dry. It’s so damn humid; our uniforms are always damp. During the day you feel like you’re walking around in a sauna suit then spend the night just trying to stay warm. It’s shocking how cold it is at night, especially with how hot it gets during the day. It’s weather whiplash. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to these next few days of drying out at base camp.
Sometimes I feel like this whole goddam country is trying to kill me. Ha-ha
John
November 2, 1970
Richie,
Thank your Mom for the socks. I’m the envy of the squad. Joking aside, they’ll come in handy while we’re out in the field. Dry socks are like gold around here. And thanks for the updates, I can’t believe Evie is going to actually marry that fucking idiot Tanner. Some guys have all the luck. Your Dad must be shitting bricks. He’s always hated him.
As for everything else, I’m fine. I promise. You know they only show worst of it on the news. We’re not on the front lines. We’ve hardly seen any action. We’ve had more casualties from land mines than anything else. I’m staying as safe as I can. I have every intention of getting the fuck out of here in one piece.
No matter what you hear, or what I say, it’s not all bad. I’ve learned a lot. About myself. Other people. I came into this a fucking rube. I’m better for this experience…I think. I hope. I’m a stronger person than when I got here that’s for sure. I’ve learned I can endure more than I thought possible-physically and mentally. I’m more capable and more driven than I ever knew. This place has roughened up my edges. It’s definitely knocked that chip Coach Walker was always complaining about, right off my shoulder.
I’m not trying to make light of it. I’m not. Like everyone else here, I’m afraid. This place is so unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I wish I could explain how it feels out there. I don’t know how to describe how oppressive the jungle is. I wish I could describe the constant noise; the anxiety it breeds. It’s a living thing. Every breaking twig, every rustling leaf feels like a threat. I wish I could explain how the rain mutes the world, so all you hear is the rain pounding your helmet. It drowns out everything.
The enemy is everywhere and nowhere. At least it feels that way when we’re out on patrol. But it’s not something I think about. I can’t allow myself to think about it. I’ve seen up close what happens when you allow yourself to wallow. We’ve got a couple of drug addicts and a few basket cases to show for it. As far I’m concerned, I’m out here doing a job and it’s a job I’m good at. Tracking, hunting our enemies, it feels good. It gives me purpose; gives all of this death and sacrifice meaning. I get there’s more to it than I what I see here, but Richie, I have to believe I’m doing the right thing. How could I live with myself otherwise?
I understand why you feel you do. I wish I had your confidence. As it is, I don’t know that there’s a wrong or right answer. I’m just trying to survive it all.
I’m glad to have you in my corner. Keep fighting the good fight.
John