Pain, agonizing pain. That's all I feel. My stomach feels like it's on fire. I lift my head up and look down to see blood running down me as I lay their, staining my uniform. God, I'm actually dying. This is it. But why? Why did it have to end like this? I only had two more weeks out here in this hell hole. I open my eyes to see the young Vietnamese man I saved only a couple weeks ago lifting me up and yelling for help. I can barely make out my few men I have left taking me to the helicopter to return back to camp. Everything is starting to go black. I can't help but smile although I'm in excrutating pain. I keep remebering all those scared faces on the children when I burned their village. I'm turning into this monster and I don't know how to contain it. My hearing is fading and my body is going numb. I can't even open my eyes. It's dark and cold and I see memories of much happier times going by. So this is death. This is what those men saw. My mind keeps drifting into those darks thoughts and I try to remember how I got shot in the first place. It's all coming back to me now; my own platoon shot me. I was sick and tired of this place so I tried to take out as many Vietnamese as I could whether they were innocent or not. I truly did deserve to die. Well it's up to God to judge my actions. I see some of my dead comrades looking at me with these evil grins. They also went insane in Vietnam. And this is my ending.
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