Crawling through Hell: contos, #1

By Ricardo Almeida

Embark on a gripping and harrowing journey through the untold stories of a Vietnam War veteran who kept his silence for almost five decades. In this riveting narrative, discover the chilling experiences of a 5'3" tunnel rat, ordered into the depths of dangerous tunnels where peril lurked at every corner. As the protagonist unveils the mysteries hidden beneath the earth, encounter a forgotten tunnel complex near Da Nang that defies explanation.

Feel the tension rise as the narrative takes an unexpected turn, leading our protagonist to a room filled with VC soldiers exhibiting eerie and unsettling behavior. Witness the discovery of a gold statue with a twisted and mysterious design, raising questions that defy logic and challenge the boundaries of belief.

As the story unfolds, experience the emotional turmoil of war and the haunting aftermath that follows. Follow the protagonist's struggle for survival, both physically and mentally, as they confront the shadows of the past in an old asylum ward in Japan.

This emotionally charged tale, laden with secrets, uncovers the trauma that war inflicts on the human spirit. Brace yourself for a narrative that transcends time, leaving you with lingering questions about the candles that burned in the darkness and the horrors that lie beneath the surface. "Beneath the Veil of Silence" is not just a war story; it's a captivating exploration of the human psyche and the enduring impact of the unspoken.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ricardo Almeida
• Release date: Nov 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223881247

Book preview

Table of Contents

Crawling through Hell (contos, #1)

I've kept my mouth shut for almost 50 years.

Why the heck would I start talking now?

Well friends, a terminal cancer will do that to you.

Stuff you thought that you would take to the grave suddenly becomes stuff you dust but

they want to tell someone.

Anyone.

I won't bore you with a long lament about my time in Vietnam.

It was awful.

It was awful for everyone involved.

And it was really bad for me as I was 5'3".

If you don't know what being particularly short during the Vietnam War entailed while

let me fill you in, you arrive in a country and to senior officer points at you in size.

You would be a good fit for the tunnel commandos.

Wanna join?

Now technically it's a question as service in those platoons was voluntary.

But it sure as heck didn't feel like a question.

It felt like an order.

And so that was my burden for the war to be a tunnel rat.

Climbing down into the deep dank dangerous tunnels filled with people and animals who

wanted to kill me.

Usually we operated in a huge chu-chi tunnel complex near Seigon.

But not on that day.

On that day we were ordered to investigate a tunnel complex way up north, west of Da Nang.

Two of us were sent into the tunnel that day, myself in Benoit.

I was the first into the hole that Benoit followed.

We both had our Model 39, some C4, our wits and not much else.

If you're wondering why we carried the small caliber Model 39's, we'll go fire a Colt

45 and a narrow tunnel and come back to see me.

The last guy who tried that got a ticket home with blood pouring out of his ears.

We crawled for it felt like an age.

The tunnel was a tight fit, which meant that it was probably freshly dug.

It also stank of something foul.

That usually meant either spoiled food or some poor enemy soldier died down there and

was left to rot.

After about 40 minutes of crawling in total silence, I saw the tunnel ahead open into

a room.

I tapped Benoit on the head with my foot.

I heard him ready as pistol.

I climbed down into the open chamber pointing my pistol at the shadows.

The room was dimly lit by a small oil lamp.

It was also deserted.

We took a moment to adjust.

It was the longest single tunnel segment either of us had ever crawled through.

It also had no traps, which was unusual.

Where was everybody who had dug the thing?

Save for the land, paying in from the roof.

In a canvas tarp on the opposite wall the room was empty.

I approached the tarp and used my pistol to move it aside.

Behind the tarp was a stone staircase leading down.

A stone staircase this far into ground.

I whispered to Benoit.

VC didn't build this.

This is old, very old.

Older than American old.

Benoit whispered back with fear in his voice.

Now we've come this far and we have to keep going.

I replied.

We both walked slowly down the narrow staircase.

Our flashlights had red lenses and I swear the illuminated staircase look like we were

descending into hell.

The staircase was almost