Where Did I Get That Scar?

InMon prompt. I was thinking about my grandfather’s service in the Vietnam War, and my dad’s stories from when he was a kid growing up in Vietnam.

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Yeah, I’ll tell ya where I got it. Everyone seems so keen on knowin’, an’ how could I blame ’em? Only a blind man wouldn’t be able to see this disfigured face of mine. Where did I get this scar, ya ask?

Oh, I’ll tell ya where I got it. It was way back in Vietnam. S’right. In Vietnam. Two days ‘fore Saigon fell, I was with my fellow men, waitin’ for the Viet cong to come through them trees. It was hot an’ the bugs were bitin’. But it don’t matter much when a bullet come wizzin’ at your head. S’that why I got this scar?

Well, I’ll tell ya why I got it. Wasn’t that bullet. No, it was much worse ‘an that. Ya see, we got some new kid, George. We liked to call ‘im Georgie. Now Georgie, he wasn’t too bright. Fact, he was pretty damn stupid. Was it him who gave me this scar?

No, I’ll tell ya who gave it. They were dumpin’ chemicals from the sky down on everythin’. Killin’ everybody. Makin’ people sick an’ all. Land mines kept blowin’ up. Georgie done got his legs blown off. Wasn’t even in Vietnam. We were in Cambodia, headin’ for this guy, Ho Chi Minh, when Georgie stepped on a mine. ‘Course, then I had to drag ‘im to safety. He was a goner. Everythin’ below his knees had been blown clean off, so I wrap what was left of his legs an’ while I’m doin’ that, some young Vietnamese kid comes at me with this big ol’ knife. The knife how I got this scar?

Hell, I’ll tell you how I got it. I duck from that knife, an’ I fight that kid with my bare hands. I beat that kid an’ leave ‘im unconscious ’cause I don’t kill kids. So I drag Georgie back to base an’ I’m hurryin’ ’cause I can hear more soldiers comin’ an’ more planes droppin’ them chemicals. M’runnin’ fast as I can. My heart’s poundin’. I can’t hardly breathe it’s so humid. Georgie’s still bleedin’ all over me ’cause I’m carryin’ ‘im on my back. An’ I look back for a moment to see if anyone’s followin’. When I turn back around, there’s this big, sharp stick headin’ for my face. A broken tree branch.

An’ that’s where I got my scar.