I wrote this for my English class and I had a 6 page limit (double spaced) because it was close to the end of the year and it'd be too hard to correct them otherwise... which I only knew when I was a bit into it, so mid-story it gets a little rushed. 
Anyway, I thought I might as well show you guys. 
Based on a hippie in Vietnam.
The Bloody Cross
Gas came through the trees. The soldiers have been committing herbicide since 1961. And it?s just my luck, I happen to be an ?herb?. That?s right. A plant. A tree. But how do I talk? Well some of me was used to make paper. And this appeared on what was made. I can tell this even after I die, and whatever parts of me are taken, I can see through them, too.
Anyway, North Vietnam was attacking itself against communism since the 1950s. This is a forest outside of Ban Me Thuot in the middle of Vietnam, and it?s very thick and humid with all this-
"Gunther!! I need ammo!!!" yelled a soldier leaned up against me, with a shaved brown beard and green eyes wide as marbles. "Gunther...? GAH! MEDIC!!!" he screamed. There was a man lying in the forest with a spout of blood coming out of his chest. A medic came under cover. He pressed his hand down on the man's hole of blood.
"Go get a bandage!!" he yelled. Robert got one out of the man's medpack. It was put on Gunther. "It's too late!" yelled the medic.
"It's never too la-"
"GRENADE!!" yelled a private. Robert jumped out of the way. The other two were blown to bits.
"Damn..." Robert grunted at the lost hope of the poor men. He twisted back over to that spot and put the medic's medpack in his pouch.
Bullets were flying everywhere. There were limbs on the ground, and halves of people. One man had only a head, torso, and right arm.
Robert shuddered for a second, and then turned around and took Gunther's ammo. They were outnumbered by a lot. 60 Viet Cong soldiers and 40 Americans, with 12 on the frontline including Rob.
"This'll be a day to remember, eh Rob?" said a soldier next to him who was reloading.
"Damn straight," Rob started, "If we live." Robert rolled his eyes. He turned around me and shot a sniper in a tree. He reloaded vigorously, overwhelmed with adrenaline.
A Viet Cong soldier climbed me on the other side and jumped down on Robert.
He strangled the unsuspecting solder to the ground with his gun horizontal. Robert took out a knife in the effort and stabbed up, and held it there, pushing up slowly for a minute. The soldier coughed up blood all over Robert's face. Blood was also dripping down onto Robert's hand from where he stabbed. He kicked the dead man off. Robert went into a slowed down state, seeing people die everywhere. He was battle fatigued. When-
"GRENADE!!" yelled the private. Robert jumped out of the way, but I didn't. Nor could I. I fell over. ?WATCH FOR THE HOOCH!!? yelled the private again, in warning. It exploded.
"Eli! Over here!" Robert yelled. But Eli was a few yards away, screeching in pain. He was shot in the shoulder and leg. Robert yelled and ran to him. He put his arm over his shoulder and dragged him off. "It's gonna be alright, Eli!" Robert reassured.
"I don?t want to die?. I don?t want to die!!? Eli coughed and cried. Robert put Eli on his lap and held him. The force of the grenade still came over him.
A gatling gunner appeared among the brush. 4 meters from Robert and Eli. He killed 6 people on the frontline, and blood went all over the other trees and bushes. It was a red, dense forest now. And horrible smelling, by the looks of it. Rotting bodies and melting face paint from fire(Caputo 37). Robert, holding Eli, made subconscious eye contact with the gunner, and closed his eyes tight in terror. A small tear came out. "I'm sorry... Eli..." Robert whispered in a cry.
Robert opened his eyes. The gatling gunner - and something else - shot Eli with such force that his entire torso was open. One of my leaves fell in him . His blood splattered on me, and a bullet was there, too. Robert was awestruck, but then he saw the gatling gunner: dead.
Robert noticed the sound of helicopters. He looked up and saw an No4 sniper, who put his gun over his shoulder and smiled with a wink. Robert looked up from below and laughed a sad and happy laugh, and saluted. The Americans won, with 5 soldiers left. Everyone cheered.
Except Robert. He looked at Eli. Then he put him over his shoulder and took some bark with his blood and a bullet. Then the horrible oily smelling helicopter picked them up. When they took off, Robert leaned against the wall and looked out at the twilight-lit sky. They flew for an hour. Robert didn't move an inch.
When we landed, he took Eli's body and my leaf to a ferry to go off to America to be buried in San Francisco. "See ya, Eli, possibly sooner than I hope," Robert sighed, and walked off.
We got to San Francisco, and everything was different from Vietnam. People smoking in the streets, Vietnam protesting, people playing songs on the streets against war, chaos. Anti-Nixon signs. We walked through the streets until we came to a church. There was the sound of music in the background. They brought us to the funeral and we were buried. A 6-foot-tall tombstone.
Meanwhile in Vietnam, Robert went to a base camp to sleep in a small tent hut. As he undressed, I fell out of his helmet. He couldn?t stand, and fell on the bed after he realized how tired he was. I watched out the window. Tomorrow they were to execute Operation Cedar Falls.
5 hours later, there were gunshots again. "Hold your position!!" yelled the sergeant outside. Robert jumped out of bed and got into his clothes. A Vietnamese soldier walked into his room. "Hey there, mind if I take cover?" he said in English, with a very heavy accent. He was shot in the leg, and blood was seeping out. He was standing in the window, and Rob lunged. "GET DOWN!" he yelled, "You can't fight. I'm getting you out of here!" Robert told him. He took me and his essential items. The soldier fainted. He took him through the battlefield, dodging stray bullets. When they were far behind but still in the base, Robert took him into a hangar bay.
"I'll patch you up, bud," he said, and used the medpack he got from the Gunther situation and bandaged his leg. We waited 2 hours for him to wake up.
"Whew... thanks," he said, "What happened?" the soldier asked.
"We retreated, but I stayed behind. I wasn't accounted for, and now I'm a deserter I guess," Robert shrugged, "They took over the camp."
"Come with me, you can meet my family," said the soldier.
Robert took him to a plane. "WOO!" he yelled. The other soldier was in the back. They took off, but there were guards everywhere outside. "Use the turret!!" Robert yelled, as he maneuvered from their shots. The solder shot a gas tank and blew up the camp.
"Alright! So, I never got your name. What is it?" Robert asked.
"An. Your's?" An asked.
"Robert Steeling," Robert replied, "Where do we go, An?" He directed Robert to his house, and they parachuted out.
"Come in, Robert. No one speaks English, hope that's alright," An said. They introduced each other. An had a wife and kid.
Robert took out a guitar. "I was a digger back in my home town before I was drafted... played songs for people," Rob laughed. Then he took his hands out of his gloves. They were war torn and dirty, but strummed beautifully on the rare birchbark guitar. 'Well let me tell ya 'bout the way she looked, the way she acted, and the colour of her hair! Her voice was soft and cool, her clear and bright, but she's not there!!'
He laughed, and they clapped. "This was fun, but I'm outta here. I'm on the run from both sides now- it's a suicide mission but it's to get back to America," Robert sighed, "I'll never forget any of you. Good luck with the war."
We jumped into the jeep outside, and drove towards shore. It was a bumpy ride, with trees and dense forests, and we only made it 5 miles until the gas ran out. We got out and continued on foot for a mile and ended up in a lighter, more sparse, forest. It seemed pretty quiet? until
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!!" yelled an American soldier, right before an explosion and screams. We were in the middle of a battle!! Rob covered his head and ran for his life. It was the most ear-splitting thing I ever witnessed someone hearing! Automatics were going off, explosions, and everyone only saw Rob for a second until he ran past their view. He was so tired, and his legs were giving out greatly. A Viet Cong soldier found him and chased him, shooting wildly. He got behind a tree and threw a rock at him, and continued to run.
A soldier from the side saw him and shot. It was a close shave, considering it cut all the strings on his guitar on his back. He took out a handgun and ran to an American APC unit.
?Ya know? I really don?t need to care anymore?? Robert mumbled quick. He shot the driver and threw him out. Then he got into the giant tank-like truck. Trees were falling on the canopy on the backseats, slowing it down. So he drove it out of the battle, and then about a mile away to a Viet Cong base camp. He camp to a back gate of it, and jumped out and went into the guard booth nearby. Guards started to near it and checked inside for the contents. While they were checking, he threw a grenade into the window. An explosion happened and Robert ran. Me, being small and flimsy, was being thrust around in his pocket. All the other guards ran to the explosion site to see what happened, and so Robert sprinted with the last of his energy to make it to a hangar bay.
?Wow, not too many guards! This place is empty?? he laughed. Then he got into a plane and took off before the guards knew what hit ?em.
We headed to America, and on the six and a half hour trip, Robert rested his legs.
We made an unauthorized crash landing in a street in San Francisco, and the police started chasing us. We took refuge in a hippie store nearby, owned by a friend of Rob?s, and hid there. He took a deeper breath than his first as a baby. He was no longer a soldier. And we lived.
When everything cooled down, he went to his house. It was dusty. Then he took me out of his pocket and carved me into a blood red wooden cross, with a bullet through the middle. He wore it on his neck for the next 40 years, as he dodged the government and police. In one year after the war, Robert looked at the paper. Surrounding articles were about the war: ?58,000 Troops Dead or Missing? , ?First Loss in America?s History? The main article was interesting; Vietnamese Blows Up Communist Base Camp in Rebel Effort. Robert chuckled, "An."
In 2007, he was 60. Married, with a 20-year-old child. This boy was drafted for the Iraq war.
"I can't believe they got you, too... A long time ago, I fought in Nam. I escaped... unbelievably. And I want you to take this," he said, and handed his son his wooden cross. The hugged and cried on each other.
A unit came and picked him up.
"At least in Vietnam he was helping democracy... now we're just flat out invading!" Robert's son grunted. I was going off into another war.
Robert went to the graveyard. He saw Eli's 6-foot-tall grave in the gray daylight.
"Looks like my son's gonna see you before I do... bud..." he leaned against the grave and cried.
The End
