Guest Blogger: Dakto, by Jarvis

Your latest blog post, “A Death Poem”, prompted this. I hope you get out of this black mood you've been in lately. It's depressing the hell out of me.

Schoolmate Found Near Dakto

I was Sergeant of the guard on a small hill just outside Dakto. It was close to sunset, and I wanted to make my rounds to the different guard posts before dark. While at one of the sentry stations, I heard my name being called. Looking around, I noticed a man standing near a tent. I recognized him as someone I went to grade school with. It was really strange. I haven’t seen this guy since the fifth grade, and suddenly, here we are, thrown together in the middle of a Vietnam jungle. He could remember me, and amazing facts about our time in school. It all seemed like a clouded memory to me. To make it worse, I couldn’t even remember his name.

I was the only guy he knew on that hill, and for the next two days, he spent his every free minute following me around. He seemed to cling to me as something familiar from home, and he was reluctant to give it up. I enjoyed his visits, but try as I might, I just couldn’t remember his name. It appeared I got away with it by calling him Buddy, Pal, Dude, my man, and anything else I could think up. If it didn’t fool him, he never mentioned it. Three days later, we were on our way to Dakto when our convoy was ambushed. During the attack, my schoolmate was killed.

It wasn’t the first time I had witnessed death, nor was it the last. In fact, two other friends of mine were killed in that same attack. But his death has always bothered me. Why hadn’t I simply asked him his name?

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