Short Stories

War Vietnam Rape Pedophile Sex



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"War Vietnam Rape Pedophile Sex"
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"Just leave him: he's dead!" Were the words yelled out as sniper fire sailed by and mortar bombs blew the earths dust up around the soldiers causing a sea of crimson and grey mist to engulf them as they marched through the stench of battle. Their mission was not yet complete, so they must carry on even without their fallen comrade. What was the mission and who was the dead Green Beret soldier left behind in Khe Sanh, a district in the province of Quang Tri? The mission was undocumented, but the soldier was a misunderstood hero, a sick and violent being, and my Uncle Tim.

Now some forty years later I know the mission was to protect the Mang Cu Compound, the Tac Loc Airfield and The Imperial Palace from the advancing North Vietnamese and Viet Cong soldiers that were sent to take over the city of Hu. The mission detail was to send a small battalion of eleven Green Beret soldiers to flank or cutoff a group of Viet Cong who were supposed to be advancing from the north. To the surprise of the embattled men the Viet Cong had already set up along the dirt roadsides in large Vietnamese Pines, waiting patiently for their counterparts in war to arrive. The Viet Cong set up an ambush, planting mortar mines along the winding dirt road and hiding under the cover in the thick forest green and auburn brush of the pines. This was the way the Viet Cong fought battles, called guerilla warfare, and our U.S. men were not yet accustomed to this type of fight.

As the eleven young soldiers walked towards their proposed destination an eclectic haze of ear deafening thunder, paralyzing light and flesh piercing metal surrounded them. The tremor aroused their attentions to a point of sensory overload and blinded their reactions, leaving them vulnerable to the enemy's deadly bullets. Amidst the chaos, the body of a dead soldier lay mangled and bloodied in the middle of the road; nevertheless, the training to ignore pain and think calmly and aggressively in the face of danger kicked in to the remaining soldiers. Their battle tested senses, unwavering dedication and the killer instinct instilled in them allowed the soldiers to fight on and defeat the Viet Cong this day, then without a blink of an eye they moved on without the fallen fighter, continuing their mission.

My Uncle Tim told me this story himself several times when I was a child. See he wasn't dead lying in the middle of that Khe Sanh road. His body was in a state of shock and the shrapnel and penetrating sniper fire stopped or weakened his heart enough too make the anxious soldiers believe he was dead. Still unconscious when the death brigade arrived, what the green berets called the medics due to their success rate; he was tagged, bagged and brought back to the military compound. He was then laid in a pile of other bagged soldiers and left for dead.

I asked Uncle Tim why he was tagged and left in that pile so quickly and he replied that when there were mass casualties and constant attacks by the enemy medical attention was less then proper and mostly "half assed". Diagnoses were done quickly, sometimes by unqualified soldiers, and then bodies that couldn't fight anymore were tagged and bagged. They then sat until prepped and cleaned for their return home to the states.

Tim isn't sure how long he laid there in the torrential darkness of the dead, but once he awoke real panic consumed him. He remembers the God awful smell of death, the weight of other dead soldiers around and atop him, and the fear that he survived the ambush but maybe not the Reaper. As he lain there heart racing, struggling for air and yelling to no avail, he thought to retrieve his knife from his boot holster and cut his way out. After stretching and contorting his body while in excruciating pain he was finally able to reach his knife, but what happened next scarred him for life. Cutting his way out, the blood of friends and comrades dripping on his face, the thoughts of why me, and then light, beautiful light gave him hope of life again. Emerging from the pile covered in his own blood and the blood of others, he started to drag his weakened, heavily injured body to find help but he passed out on the cold dirt floor and that was all he remembered.

He awoke in the infirmary several weeks later lucky to be alive but unlucky for a lifetime of nightmares to come. Uncle Tim stayed on as a soldier and served his country several more years. Uncle Tim has led an interesting life to say the least. He has fought inbattle, died in battle and then fought again. In 1968 he appeared as an extra in the movie Green Beret starring John Wayne, ironically as a Viet Cong soldier who dies in battle. .

Uncle Tim earned a Purple Heart, Silver Stars and countless other awards, but unfortunately Tim Long left the military with an insatiable urge to hurt others and had a much darker side that I've only just realized. Tim Long was psychologically uneven before his time in the military, during his time there and probably even now. The nightmares and problems only increased after his honorable discharge in 1972. His discharge came after another battle with the Viet Cong where he was stabbed in the kidney but survived again. He has spent nearly my entire life behind bars in the Jackson State Penitentiary and is set to be released this March.

I've mentioned his numerous awards of valor and have made him seem like a heroic, interesting character; conversely, what I'm about to tell you now will sicken you and abruptly change your mind about this vile, demented man.

Tim's story starts in Toledo, Ohio when he was around nine years old. He was a poor white boy living in the East Side where poverty and mischief ran amuck. There was a little colored girl there by the name of Marissa, she was only about five or six years old, but to Tim she was a perverse fascination he could not control.

One day when the two were playing near an old abandoned house close to where Tim and Marissa lived, Tim decided the two should sneak into the basement to play. Tim went first down the dark basement stairs and then began to urge Marissa on to follow. "What are you scared? Do you want to go home to your dollies?", said Tim. Marissa feeling pressured, slowly walked down those dark steps, "Where are you Tim?", Marissa cried. "Over here by the coal shoot, come get me!" Tim replied. As Marissa neared Tim she had no idea that the young boy was sick and had perverse curiosities running through his head about her. When she got near, Tim finally quenched some of his carnal cravings and began to touch Marissa in places she knew were bad, but she had no chance to stop the aggression against the much bigger, stronger Tim. Tim quickly finished his disgusting investigation of the little girl's body and as she lay on the cold, damp concrete floor crying, Tim reminded her not to tell anybody or she would be in big trouble.

After weeks of repeated sexual molestation Marissa finally told her kindergarten teacher and then the Toledo Police. Tim was arrested under the suspicion of molesting an under aged girl and sentenced to evaluation at the Lucas County Juvenile Detention Center. He received therapy and eventually his record expunged.

Although Tim was never accused or convicted of these heinous crimes again during his childhood in Toledo or afar in Vietnam, he was always suspected by his brothers and sisters of doing much more unknown harm. To this day Tim's siblings believe that Marissa wasn't the only little girl he defiled in their hometown or abroad.

Once Tim returned from the war with his medals in hand and his appetite for young flesh calling to him, he decided to move north to a small town in Michigan. Tim took up residence in a ran down home in an impoverished neighborhood of Erie, Michigan. It didn't take him long to discover fresh new prey.

Tim met two young women in his neighborhood that were in their late twenties and not very moral. The two women were both drug addicts and prostitutes but worse than that they were dissolute mothers of two beautiful teenage girls. Tim seeing these young ladies saw only disillusioned images of his next lascivious feast. He quickly offered to watch the two young girls when their mothers were out working the streets at night. The deviant mothers agreed and insisted on repaying him for his perceived kindness; although, he declined the two discouraging women began to caress his inner thighs and tongue his neck. Seeing that he wasn't aroused until their daughters walked into the room, the two women realized what they had on their hands. What they had was a man they could extort money and drugs from for only the sacrifice of their young daughters.

When the women dropped their teen age daughters off, they explained to Tim that their daughters weren't virgins and for bag of weed he could do what he wished with them and no one would say a word. Enticed by this offer he quickly acted and granted the women's wishes for drugs and slowly lured the teens to his bedroom. Tim had his way with those poor girls for months, at first the girls would fight and cry as their mothers left them, but after a while Tim convinced the teens that he was the only person who loved them and he would be lost without them. The girls over time began to cater to his every vile, disgusting wish both with him and eventually with each other. This sordid perversion came to a sudden end when Tim's money and drugs ran dry. The mothers turned him in for rape and the law came down upon him. He was sentenced to ten to fifteen years in The Jackson State Penitentiary. He was released eight years later but this was not the last time he would visit his three by six cell.

The year is 1990 and Tim still cannot break free from his perverse curse of lusting after the young, sweet flesh of an adolescent female. He is a pedophile and has an incurable disease. A disease that makes his brain see every young girl as an appetizing delicacy that he cannot restrain himself from. Tim one more time succumbs to his ghastly desire, touching a young girl at the local shopping center. He was arrested, convicted and sentenced fifteen to twenty years and was hauled off back to Jackson.

It has been nineteen years since his last incarceration and he is coming home a sick and crippled man. The years behind bars has not treated him kindly but not punished him enough. None of the accomplishments I've mentioned in this story make up for the terror he has brought upon so many little girls in his lifetime. Those girls whom we know about and also the unknown scarred, nameless faces he's left behind.

For the crimes he has committed and the pain he has inflicted, I say, just leave

Him; he's dead.

 

More about this author: Gary Pillette

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