Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep249: Episode 249: Horror Stories of the US Marines

Episode Date: June 10, 2025

Today’s opening nightmarish tale of terror is ‘1971: The Vietnam Experience’, a brilliant original work by Sanjoaquincounty58, shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and read to you all with the author’s express permission via the CC-BY-SA license:  https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:Sanjoaquincounty58 https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/1971_-_The_Vietnam_Experience The rest of tonight’s podcast is a phenomenal series by 035none, kindly shared with us at NoSleep and read with the author’s permission:  Part 1 - Can I Come in?  Part 2 - The Mountain  Part 3 - The Laughing Girl  Part 4 - The Road to Vegas  Part 5 - The Trap Door  Part 6 - The Doll  Part 7 - Where did Gomez go?  r/nosleep/comments/7vb471/weird_shit_ive_seen_as_a_marine_1/

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. The American Marines certainly have it and benefit from it. They're tough, cocky, sure of themselves and their buddies. They can fight and they know it. But things aren't always what we seem. But things aren't always what they see, as we will see in tonight's stories. Now as ever before we begin, a word of caution.

Tonight's stories make and train strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. 1971, the Vietnam experience. Ooh, 1971 and 1972. The years go by. Nixon was president. The Godfather movie was released. Libertarians had the first convention, and I was drafted for military service. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 18 and just graduated high school. school in May. My mother and father were there to see me released into the world of hard work and dedication. However, that was not the case as I decided to fight for a cause and signed up for the army in June of 1972. After three months of boot camp, learning out a fight hand-to-hand combat and weapons training,

I was shipped off from my boot camp in my home of Travis County, Texas, to San Diego to be deployed. While in San Diego, I was shipped on a plane to a mysterious land known as Vietnam, I'd only heard about the mysteries of Vietnam and the local news. It was mostly stories about missing in action and prisoners of war in the North Vietnam camps which I'd heard about. These men that were found deep in the jungle slaughtered to death by the red evil known as the Viet Cong. However, I still continued with no regrets, thinking I was going to fight for the freedom

of the Vietnamese people from an evil cause and liberate them for the better good of the world. Going from San Diego to Vietnam was a harsh plane ride. especially with all the storms going across the Pacific Ocean. However, to pass the time, I talked to some of the other fellows from the plane. First was a guy from Austin, Texas, known as Paul. Paul was an 18-year-old high school flunk who decided that his only path after school was to go into the army. Paul's choice of employment had made him a happy man with really no real problems. There was also a kid from California named Carson, who was from Stockton.

Carson was of half Vietnamese, half-Irish descent, and decided to fight for the South Vietnamese cause. He spoke fluent Vietnamese and English from his mother's side. He'd always be cracking swear words in Vietnamese. He obviously was the quirkiest kid from the group, being this 20-something fellow who always crack jokes to make everyone feel better. I soon befriended these fellows and we were the best of buddies by the end of the flight. We arrived at the military base in Saigon

and were allowed a few days to roam the city before the deployment into the jungle. While time was on my side, I ventured into the streets of Saigon. I stumbled on an old bookstore, I took a peek inside, and it revealed thousands of books, mostly written in Vietnamese. The one behind the counter looked at me, and then went to the back. I decided to look at the folklore section, which was full of stories told by locals and traditions passed. I then saw a book in English, which looked a little worn, and decided to take a peek. I opened up to one page and found the image of a frightening dragon with large red eyes.

I wasn't scared, but decided to read the story anyways. It mostly talked about a dragon which roamed the jungle looking for prey unless someone offered a sacrifice. After reading it, I thought it was the cheesiest story I'd ever laid eyes on. However, as I turned around, the shopkeeper looked at me and said politely in English, you'd better walk with your eyes open in those trees and then walked away well that's kind of confused but just walked out and proceeded to the base after a few days in sagon we were given our mission and being privates we'd be the first ones in to search for the viet Cong and would investigate the local

jungles nearby the border most notably for missing prisoners within the thick jungle me and about 200 other men were shipped off in jeeps to the battle zone specifically the border between north and south Vietnam. Arriving in our destination, well, it was a very quiet place. Nothing but the chirps of small birds in the distance. It was a large ancient jungle which didn't seem to be of anything really. The man in charge told us to get ready and set up camp, which we promptly did. His name was Sergeant Rogers.

He was a ripped guy who had to be over 250 pounds. He walked like he had to be doing something at all times, but was not one of those yell at your face, fellas. Instead, he treated the men in his brigade as if he was another soldier, just giving orders. After a few hours of set up, Carson, Paul and I were sent off to investigate the thick jungle. Grabbing our guns, we quietly walk through the middle of the jungle, scouting for anything that we could see. The place was quiet, and we heard nothing but the chirping of bugs in the distance, and the occasional bird.

If it wasn't for the war that was going on here, this would be a beautiful, vacationing spot. After a few hours of scouting and seeing nothing, we headed back to base camp, but not before Carson saw something crude in the distance. It looked to be like something man-made, like a big rock building of some sort. We then approached the huge building only to find that it was a large abandoned temple of sorts. We walked up to the temple, thinking something could be in there. But then we heard footsteps and someone used to yelling something in Vietnamese a few hundred feet away. It was the Viet Cong.

We then hurried back to camp and told our superiors the story of finding some temple in the middle of the jungle. Well, he just laughed and said that those are old Buddhist temples which had long been forgotten. Well, even though our superior didn't care, we were still deeply interested in these temples. Another day went by and we were picked again to scout out the jungle. Or this time we decided to venture deeper into the thickness of the thickness. of the vines and trees. After a few miles of venturing in the jungle, we saw a camp of the Reds.

It was an encampment of a few hundred men, which by this point were just a mere hundred yards from us. We just looked at them and at their entire encampment, not seeing any prisoners. We scoured the thickness of the jungle for a few hours, right in the daily log of what we'd seen, and reported it back to Rogers, mainly just how many troops we'd seen,

how far away it was, and so on. We stayed at the side of the camp for a few hours when a red soldier approached in the distance not seeing us He pulled something out of his pocket And we were ready for the worst But he was just a zippo lighter And he'd gone out for a smoke

Well Carson was hyped up to capture this guy And he had a plan We'd go up to the soldier Gag him and try to get any information About the missing soldiers We decided to put this plan into full effect and tried to get anything we could out of this soldier. He surrounded the guy on all sides,

slowly approaching him in a quiet fashion. He was about 20 feet away from us now and all he could smell was the cigarette burning rapidly. Slowly walking as close as I could, I could finally see the orange part of his burning cigarettes as he took it from his mouth. I then grabbed my pistol and rag and, went behind him, grabbing him and gagging him.

He was letting out muffled screams for help, but I wasn't going to let him go. Carson and Paul held him down, but he was still screaming for us to let him go. Carson then told the man, with a knife to his neck, in Vietnamese, that if he screamed once, he'd cut his neck wide open. The man went quiet at this, sweating bullets out of fear for his life. Carson then started talking to the man in his native tongue, asking all the influence. information that he knew. The man and Carson talked for about five minutes until Carson, in disgust, let the man down and then beat him with the butt of his gun, leaving the man unconscious so we could get

away. We then started on the ferocious hike back to camp, tired and covered in mud from the jungle. I then popped the question about what the man had said. Carson, who was mad, blankly said. The man said there is no prisoner or war camp near this area and that the man from their encampment have disappeared as well thinking it was an American POW camp I was unfounded at this thinking that we'd not had any disappearances since coming to the jungle but that we'd also not captured any enemies since we got here either

we continued the walk back and I was speechless as we walked to the encampment The three of us went to Roger's tent and explained to him that there were no prisoners at the camp and taught him about the soldier. Rogers was almost as confused as us, but then gave us orders to head back to our quarters as if something was bothering him. His face while we were just staring at him was red mad, as if someone had just murdered his wife. He then proceeded to yell at us to get back to our quarters and we scurried back to our beds. Paul asked, why was Rogers so infuriated with us?

We did our job and scattered the enemy. What else does he want? Well, I don't know, Paul. I think Rogers is hiding something from us and the other troops. Carson explained. That trooper at the Rescamp also said something about a serpent-like creature when the disappearances occurred. Why didn't you say anything about that to Rogers?

I asked. He's never going to believe us. Plus, I think there's a lot more to learn about the jungle. Carson exclaimed. okay we'll talk more in the morning i sighed no no we cannot let anyone else know about this paul yelled out carson hesitated and then said to us let's just keep this to ourselves for now if something does happen then we'll be ready for it the three of us then shook on it agreeing that we would not talk about it again and proceeded nervously to the bunks a few days passed by we were preparing to advance towards the north vietnam

his camp that we'd spotted earlier. Rogers explained that this would be a routine mission, and we'd be going deep into the jungle to attack the enemy. Rogers had a nervous look on his face, but he was ready to send the troops into battle. We grabbed our guns and supplies and set off walking through the jungle once again. Our first job was to clear a path by removing trees and other debris, mostly with construction equipment and flamethrowers. Carson and I were put on flamethrowered due to.

and Paul was put on clearing the debris. We spent another few hours clearing trees and rocks before setting up camp deep within the forest. We began setting up sandbags and digging holes, preparing for the attack. And that's when we saw the Vietnamese. There was a counter-attack force only a few hundred yards away. We grabbed our guns and a firefight soon engulfed the two forces.

We battled deep into the night. or bullets were grazing past me and Paul as we reloaded our guns Paul had killed about a dozen of the enemy before Rogers yelled out for the big guns I was lucky if I'd even shot one or two of the guys and this was my first battle with real people the grappling guns began firing on the enemies many of the Vietnamese were underpowered in terms of weapons and were running at us began taking them down with all the firepower we had

we began to cheer but it wasn't lost long before more of those reds kept coming through the trees. Their dead bodies were just piling on top of each other, and they had this evil look in their eyes. And then everything started to fall apart. Snipes in the trees began to pick us off one by one, killing the many good men around me. Paul was grazed in the leg, and then Rogers yelled out for us to retreat.

All of us began to fall back as more and more bodies from our side began to fall. By then Rogers was already off the battlefield and most of the survivors were running towards the south. I then heard Paul cry out. He'd been shot in the leg. I grabbed him and put him over my shoulder with Carson giving us cover fire. By this point we were almost surrounded

and began to run eastwards. I then shouted to the others that the temple could be our place of refuge until the enemy had left. So we slowly dragged Paul to the temple, which was a long, two-mile walk. We then saw the temple in the moonlight, with its ancient vegetation growing all over the old stone walls. I could hear shouting behind us as we ran into the temple.

But it was dark and quiet for most of the nights. I took a look outside to find a few of the Reds looking at me, seeing that I was in the temple. But, well, they looked terrified with blank expressions on their faces. They ran off shouting something in Vietnamese. and they were yelling out, Conron, Conron! Conrung! Confused and more than just a little pissed off.

I sprayed a bunch of bullets to ward them off and then ran back into our temporary fortress. I then said to Carson that those bastards were gone and they were running for their lives back into the jungle, not telling him what they'd said. Carson was busy tending to Paul's wounds, which weren't too bad, but he still couldn't walk on his.

up, while I proceeded to make my way through the old temple to get a feel for what kind of surroundings we were in. Mostly what I found were statues of some fellow I didn't know and paintings of dragons everywhere. The drawings depicted people running out of the temple into a jungle being chased by this dragon-like creature. The creature was yellow with red eyes and a red stripe, and it had sharp teeth and a sinister-looking face, like it was ready to devour someone, and walked deeper into the temple. with my lighter guiding me, looking at all these paintings of this dragon, which would do anything from sitting on top of some temple to devouring people. I was deeply impressed by these drawings, and I heard a large bump at the end of the corridor. It was Carson. He then looked at the drawings

and was shocked by their contents. He said they were from some local dragon legend. According to Carson, The Vietnamese, like many East Asian cultures, were extremely intertwined with the dragon in their stories. He didn't know this particular story, but he said that dragons in Vietnamese culture were often said to be bringers of rain, particularly in agriculture. He also said that they really believed the dragon to be a father figure to men, and it was even included in their creation stories. They signified that they brought much good to the world, but this dragon was very different

from the ones in Vietnamese folklore. He said that this dragon was evil and was a vicious killer, not like the loving creatures typically depicted. Just as he was about to explain more, we heard screams coming from Paul in the distance. We ran back to him, and he explained that something was growling at him in the distance. We looked outside to see the silhouette of something in the distance,

just staring at us with these big red eyes. It looked like some large bird with the body of a worm. It was growling and had a huge snout like a lion. It was hunched over the body of a man who was screaming for his very life as this monster started eating him from his torso. The creature ripped flesh and tissue from the man swallowing his intestines like spaghetti. It then turned around and growled at us from outside the temple and began waving its wings. It then flew off

We then saw its face As it tried to break into the temple Looking for something to eat Or kill We ran deeper into the temple Into a large atrium And stayed there for a few hours Hearing the creature's snarls

And it screeches It was screaming and banging on the walls of the temple Trying to get to us So we just remained in the atrium More hours passed, and it went silent for a while. You could hear the occasional bird. I picked up my lighter and made a makeshift fire with pieces of cloth and leaves. I then noticed the same silhouette of something in the background.

I helped back, thinking it was some beast, but it was a statue of the same dragon, covered in gold and ruby. Carson explained, whoever was here didn't just fear this creature they also worshipped it and then walked towards the back of the atrium and noticed a room going to the back of the temple it went to a long line of stairs which proceeded to a room with an opening big enough to fit the dragon inside the room there were drawings of dragons everywhere a large altar big enough for a human to be sacrificed it was covered in dirt and leaves but it was definitely for sacrifices as i found I found plenty of daggers nearby made of gold.

It was then I heard a hiss above me and saw the dragon coming down with its claws ready. It lunged from me and scratched me deep on the leg. I heard its musky breath from the other side of the cavern. It let out of roar and I could smell the stench of rotten flesh within its mouth. Then tried to grab me from the corner of the room. I ran to the open door, back to the atrium, but not before it was able to grab my leg. With its claws digging deep within my skin, I let out a shriek and then grabbed my revolver from its holster and shot it in the arm.

It shrieked and yelled at this, and I saw this as an opportunity to get out of there. I crawled back to the open door and escaped the beast by climbing back to the atrium where my colleagues were waiting. We waited for daylight to come, which seemed like an eternity. Paul's bleeding was stopped and then we picked him up and proceeded to walk out of the temple to civilization. My eyes then adjusted to the incoming daylight as we swiftly walked out of the temple towards the American camp. We walked for what seemed like ours, only to find a crew of mangled corpses of Vietnamese troops in a large tanker truck. They looked like they'd been ripped to shreds but by nothing man-made. one of the men was ripped in half at the torso and missing his lower half another man was missing his body and only his head was left something had taken down an entire battalion of vietnamese we knew what had done this but we weren't going to stay around for confirmation he began to check the bodies and look for any necessary supplies finding water and some painkillers i suddenly heard in the distance a faint cry for help

We walked in awe towards the dying man. He was yelling out that word in Vietnamese again. Conrong. Carson then talked with a man who was saying words about a serpent with wings and how it ambushed them. He talked with us for a few more minutes about this creature which would just not die. This creature severed a huge gash in his leg in an incoming attempt. attack which happened just a few hours ago. He was able to survive for a while longer but kept blanking in and out of consciousness. He then began going into shock but kept shouting the same word

until he died. By that point I was sick to my stomach and throwing up whatever content was in my body trying to understand what the hell was going on. All I wanted to do was go home and never see this shit again. I was as sick as I could be. I grabbed a swig of water from my canteen, which was halfway full. We then searched through the entire tank, before leaving the mangled bodies and corpses behind on our way back to camp. We walked for what seemed like hours, stopping only to give ourselves a short break and carrying poor.

Who was okay for the time being? His leg, however, started to show signs of infection. Then we finally saw the familiar sight of an American dude, Jeep in the distance, hoping that someone out here was still alive. Well, we finally made it back to the American camp, which seemed to be all but abandoned. The jeeps and even the tents were all but abandoned within the area, and most everything was charred like it had been in a fire. And then we found the corpses, just like at the Vietnamese camp. Chard remains of men were all over the place. Half even men were.

with their inner scattered, it was a disaster's up. We then began walking through the entire encampment, trying to find some life when we saw a handful of Americans, including Rogers. Rogers was loading up gasoline into a large Jeep with a few injured and a few healthy people, all getting ready to leave. We started yelling at Rogers that we were okay as he yelled back and waved us to come along. We dragged Paul to the Jeep and put him in gently. Many of the men in the jeep looked injured, including Rogers, who appeared to be scared out of his mind.

He then told us that everyone in the battalion was dead apart from us, and we were lucky to be alive. He later said that no one else was alive, including the Vietnamese. He then paused and said, After the retreat, we ran towards the base camp area, where we settled him before, stopped there for prep work in the morning. And something came from the distance and began to attack. God, that thing was everywhere, slaying troops one by one with his big red eyes and his bloody teeth. It was flying around our jeeps and stopping anyone from leaving, charing men, cooking them to death,

rip another men apart piece by piece. We ran into the nearby forest and hid in a small cave until the thing left. That's when I began finding survivors, and then I found this jeep. We began talking then about our lives. encounters with this creature and how it had killed many men along the way by the time we'd finished explaining all of our stories we'd reached a small town outside of Saigon and went to the nearest American military post and that's well that's where my story ends after that horrible encounter all 12 of us were relieved of our military duty due to PTSD and were never given an explanation about that serpent we were flown back to the United States

and then sent to a mental health division of the VA. There the doctors said that the dragon was just a result of the stress we'd endured, but, well, I know what I saw. After the scramble, we all went our separate ways. As for the others, well, those few that survived, I only know what happened to Paul, Rogers and Carson. Paul, after returning home, had his leg amputated.

He lived a nice life until he began having to have. having flashbacks of that dragon and the temple, and he was later admitted into a mental health clinic in 1984, where he died a year later. Rogers, after returning home, worked at a local grocery store where he later became the manager. However, due to constant headaches and hearing voices, he committed suicide in 1995, leaving a suicide note about how he was hearing noises from outside his window and seeing red eyes all around him. As for Carson, he was, he was hearing noises. He still contacts me and after returning home got his degree in Eastern religious studies from the University of Michigan. He's still researching about the dragon in the tomb and is implied he might go back to Vietnam to try and solve the mystery of the murders.

Ask for all the other men slaughtered by the dragon? Well, I don't know. It was never explained to me what happened to the many people who perished there. In the end, I still know what I saw. And I know the other two men saw what I saw too. Well, that thing still stalks me in my dreams. The doctors from the VA still say that it's stress, the stress of being in the war.

But I know what I saw and it was not a hallucination. I know that thing is still out there waiting to kill me, waiting to skim me alive, waiting to rip me apart with its razor sharp teeth and its blood-red eyes. And it'll still be waiting for me in my dreams. still waiting. I didn't think twice about joining the Marines so I could be in the infantry.

I went through all of the training and unwelcome hardship that makes you really reconsider your decision. Anyway, I got stationed to a desert base known as 29 pounds, the largest piece of military-controlled land in the US. It covers approximately 930 square miles. in total. Yeah, it's fucking huge. In Southern California and a few hours from Mexico.

When you're that far out, you start to see some shit. Anyway, fast forward to my first field op and me losing my shit. To put things in perspective as to how far away we are from civilization, the closest man-made object is a three-hour ride away. hour right away. Now this day was particularly hot because it broke 130 as if the sunset, I told you I could. So we spent all day hiding under camouflage netting getting classes about various military tactics. Once the sunset, we set off into the night to get some hard, realistic training done. At night, we practiced using our night

object to do simple shit like reloading and reading maps. It produces an image off of ambient infrared light, so you can actually see a lot more shit than the naked eye. Now, let me tell you, the sky is absolutely cluttered with stars. I can see a shooting star every few seconds. Ooh, the milky way. It's pretty darn cool. Finally, after roaming around A. for what felt like forever.

We head back and we're granted a few hours of sleep. I lay down and start to drift off. I'm suddenly woken up after what felt like ten minutes, and I get up instantly. Get up, bitch, you're on watch. God damn it. I get dressed and I stand my post dutifully, like I'm told at the checkpoint.

I'm given a radio and tell you're on the checkpoint. I'm giving a radio and tell you. told to only lift the barbed wire after it gets approved over the radio. It's maybe around 2 a.m., and everyone else in my company is dead asleep, except for myself and an officer in the comm truck. All I can hear are the coyotes. I decided to start looking at the stars with my night vision. I hear a coyote yell off in the distance,

but think nothing of it. A few minutes later, another Marine comes over a small hill in front of me. Nothing crazy, probably taking a doubt. He walks towards me, but his eyes don't reflect any light. Rationally, one of us is probably dehydrated, so I think nothing of it. He approaches me and after a few seconds of staring at me, he simply says, can I come in? His voice didn't sound right.

no inflection or questioning tone. Weird. I asked him what his name was, and why he was out so far taking a dumb. He tells me his name, Sergeant Wright, and he ignores my dumb question. Same weird voice. Granted, I'm new to the unit,

so I don't know anyone named Sergeant Wright, but I still had to verify it. Maine, this is Rogue Guard 1 There's a Sergeant Wright requesting entry Over Rogue Guard 1, this is Maine There is no Sergeant Wright in this company And the closest unit is 25 miles away

Make sure No shit, get the fuck back here right now Don't let him in or even look at him Run! As the weird dude started to hear this his face changed to severe anger like he wanted to rip my throat out and drink my blood by the time I got back everyone is awake

all of the vehicle lights are turned on and everyone is packing up scrambling into the trucks we leave a lot of shit behind like the tents water and food and drive the entire three hours back I never got an explanation from anyone but my squad leader who was a simple backwards kind of guy who bluntly said that whatever I saw wasn't asking to get through the gates

after my most recent creepy experience with weird looking people scaring the fuck out of me we went somewhere much more terrifying a remote little Marine Corps base called Bridgeponds it's in a national forest just north of Yosemite It was built to train Marines in the art of mountain warfare. There's a lot of mountains. It's cold. It's windy.

And if you ever go there, well, you'll hate your life too. Anyway, when we first get there, we stay in these creepy concrete huts with bunk beds in them. There's a bathroom and some showers, and that's about it. You fight over the outlets to charge your electronics. and there's not really any heat besides a bunch of marines cramped into one area. The first few days are miserable. Your body has to adjust to the new altitude. The air has less oxygen, so physical work and exercise plays out in slow motion.

Oh, and you're constantly tired, and all you want to do is sleep. There isn't much in terms of fresh food, and things can get pretty bleak if you have the wrong mind. mindset. You wouldn't believe me if I told you of these were the better times, eh? Eventually, we march up into the mountains carrying our ridiculously heavy packs, stuffed to the brim with warming layers, food, water, and nicotine. The first few days were easy. We would hike all day and stop to rest and learn a few things on survival and such. There were some snow on the lower parts, but not a ton, thankfully. Around the fourth night,

someone had the awesome idea of making us practice our nighttime navigation skills. I'm a pretty decent navigator myself, so I was up for the challenge. No big deal. They hand out the compasses, maps, and protractors

and set up an elaborate system of how to get to the finish line. It was staggered so people weren't walking all over each other. Now this, is where things get interesting. I'm in the woods. It's dark and cold. I hate my life, so I'm stumbling through the trees and brush,

loud as hell without a care in the world. I just want to finish this dumb thing so I can go to sleep. I get to my first point easily because there's some moonlight shining through the trees. The second one was placed in a fucking river, and I still remember how livid I was. standing there, copying down the word donkey etched into an ammo can on top of a rock in a freezing cold river. Wet boots will drive a man insane. I stopped to squeeze out the moisture from my socks, and I get this primal feel that I'm being watched. I stand completely still, and all I can hear

is my heart beating, no wind or wildlife. Just. Just me. My first thought is it's a Marine trying to piggyback off my success. I put on my soggy boots and do what anyone would do. I crest the next hill and stop so I could listen. Nothing. Maybe I'm just freaking the fuck out. Screw this, I keep walking.

Ten minutes later, and I get the same feeling. Any rookie stalker knows that you have to match the person's step so they don't hear you. So, I start randomly stopping or changing my step. After a few whole-hearted tries, I don't hear any footsteps, but I do hear breathing. It's as if a mountain lion or something crazy. I have no choice but to keep walking and hope I can pull my dull gerber knife out in time. time. About this time I get to my third point and plot my final point. It's near a road, so I cut straight east and literally book it up the road. I still felt like I was being

followed the entire time, but I felt safer because I could hear the low roar of a Humvee engine up the road. Looking back, I lead, whatever it was, right to the rest of us, Damn, that was a dumb mistake. Nothing else happens that night. Everyone else gives up and just uses the roads to make it to camp. Those who don't make it back are told to walk towards the sound of a beeping whore. Funny. I get to sleep in the safety of numbers.

We use the next day to remediate our night-time land nav skills and refuel our bodies with food. Once the sun sets, we march off into the mountains in a fire. Unfortunately, since I carry a rocket launcher, my natural position is in the back. But not the very last, so that's a positive. We spend the early night hiking. We were moving very fast and probably 20 metres spaced apart. At times it was common to lose sight of each other. All of us were slowly getting exhausted.

Suddenly, shit gets dark. Like, the ambient light is just being absorbed. I get that same primal fear. Extreme silence. Yeah. Fuck. I keep walking without a word until I hear someone. Probably the guy behind me call my name.

I turn around and he looks at me like I'm an idiot. What the fuck? Keep going, dude. They're going to lose us. Okay. Weird. Who called my name? I spin back around and try to see my way through the brush for the guy in front of me. I get a glimpse of him and discreetly yell at him to slow down.

But he doesn't even hear me. What the fuck? About the same time, I hear from behind me, Dude, what the fuck is... I heard a light rustling of leaves and some twicks, but that's it. I run back maybe 15 metres, which isn't far, but at night it is. There's nothing but his pack on the ground and his rifle. I call out his name.

Nothing. I reach for my radio. It's dead. I turn on both of my flashlights. Dead. I start yelling. I blow the red. grape whistle that they made me pack.

Nothing. I don't know how long it took them to realize I was missing and how they backtracked their way to me, but it felt like ours. I could feel whatever it was out there, waiting, just fucking toying with me. I told them everything,

and they were convinced the guy just got lost. They all spread out and looked for him for a few hours, but ultimately came up with him. nothing. Sometime the next morning, one of the hippie park volunteers found him 30 kilometers away across multiple mountains. He was bleeding from his ears, didn't even know his name. Of course, he was in extreme hypothermia, and he had a ton of bruises on him, but no severe bleeding. They ended up getting a helicopter to take him to the nearest hospital. Following the mysterious incident. I was told I was going to be sent down the mountain to answer a few

questions. To be honest, I was relieved. It was cold and I didn't want to hike anymore. Everyone else in my company sort of just believed what we were told. He gamed down with mountain sickness and just walked 30 kilometers over the course of a few hours. I'd try to tell a few people about all the creepy shit I'd been noticing just to make sure I'm not going crazy. Before anyone could respond, my squad leader pulled me aside and told me, don't talk about these things, okay? Maybe he knew something I didn't. But yeah, cool. They sent us up here knowing something was fucking off. Typical military BS. To stick her heads in the sand and pretend everything is great.

I was glad I was leaving for a few days, but there was nothing but complete dread whenever the idea of coming back entered my mind. The Humve to take me back down finally showed up, and the ride was uneventful. They took me to a small, concrete office-like building. The military police guys were just like me and had a job to do. They got a statement and asked if I noticed the guy doing anything unusual before he disappeared. Nope, seemed normal to me. The NCIS guys came in then. I've dealt with them before ever something else, and they're usually good-natured guys.

Well, not these ones. Brisk, to the point and methodical. They read off all the facts about the case like they were reading the nutrition info on a serial box, unsurprised and monotor. They'd definitely seen this before. They asked the same questions. When I told them about all the creepy things I'd noticed, they told me that I was probably suffering from mountain sickness too.

I was beyond pissed, but I knew better than to argue with them. Another thing, they asked me if I'd taken any pictures that day. I told them I hadn't. When I thought that was strange. Next, they asked if they could swap my boots. To this day, I'm honestly confused as to why the hell they did that. I don't know if they were fucking with me, or if it was part of something else. My only assumption is that this thing alters the surrounding area on a microscopic level.

Maybe there was isotopia producers that might have stayed on my boots. I have no clue. But if anyone has any similar stories or information on why they did that, then please let me know. At the conclusion of my interview, they made me sign a document stating I wouldn't talk about anything. They would contact me when I was free to disclose any information. This was a few years ago, and they never got back to me. So it may not be legal to talk now, but I have a card up my sleeve that I'm not going to talk about. Anyway, I walked back to our fabulous five-star car.

concrete hut to get some sleep. Thankfully, I wasn't alone, as there were a few guys to stay bad because they had sickle cell anemia and could actually die if they went above a certain altitude. I took one of the best hot showers I've ever had in my life and headed to my bunk. I was exhausted, but I couldn't sleep. Now, I rarely smoke, but I still carry a pack on me just to make lucrative trades or sell to desperate nicotine fiends in the field. I felt like now was a good time to smoke, so I went outside.

Maybe it would calm me down. Always going well until that dreadful feeling came back again. Shit, the tree line was maybe 40 meters away. I don't know how the hell it followed me or why. Could there be more than one? I stomped out my cigarette and went back inside. I managed to calm myself down and fall asleep, but I would always wake up suddenly after maybe ten minutes. No dreams, just the overwhelming feeling that you're being observed.

The next day, I packed all of my gear into the Humvee and helped the driver load some stuff into the back. The driver was uneventful, and I managed to catch some sleep, only to be woken up by rough terrain here and there. When we finally arrived, it was almost afternoon, and the company was preparing to cover some serious terrain that day. Just my luck. Before I knew it, we were trotting up the steep mountainside. I didn't think it could get any worse until it began to sleet heavily. Jeez, it was bad. The wind picked up and it felt like we were being cut with glass.

I couldn't see. people were getting lost and the rocks were slippery. We hide for hours upon hours and I swear these mountains were trying to kill us. The sun began to set and our clothes began to freeze on us. If that wasn't bad enough, I noticed that our compasses were acting weird. No matter how hard you tried,

you would eventually end up walking towards the base of a particular mountain that was nicknamed devil's incline on our map. This was a military map that someone had made in the 1980s. I don't know if I'll be able to find it again. Coincidentally, I also got that same feeling of being stalked again. Fuck. Anyhow, our guides get us to the right destination, a place called Sardine Rock.

As soon as we stop, people start shaking violently because they are no longer hiking and producing zero body heat. Someone was smart enough to predict this and had two-man tents driven up to our rendezvous point on massive trucks. We rarely used tents, but this was literally a life-or-death situation. To make things worse, the wind picked up and it started to downpour violently. You couldn't hear yourself talk.

It was chaos. If you've ever set up a tent in the wind, you'll know how impossible it is. By the time we had everything staked in, the tent had a few inches of water at the bottom. Our sleeping systems are waterproof, but our entire bodies were soaked to the bone, so they eventually became wet from the outside in. Then the temperature dropped, and things got worse. Being in the military, you always have to have someone on watch. Since there was still sunlight out, I volunteered to stand.

it while everyone else hid in their tents. Geez, worst day of my life. Finally, I got back inside of my tent and tried to get some rest. I don't remember falling asleep, but I was suddenly woken up to someone outside asking for help. It was the same voice of the guy who ended up 30 kilometers away. Except, that guy is still in the hospital. He would call out someone's name and say it a few times and then try to get them outside. I think it was my squad leader who yelled at everyone to stay the fucking out tense and not to go outside.

For the next few minutes, he practically begged us. It sounded like he was in the tree line, maybe 20 meters away. Somehow guessing our names. Here it was trying to break us down when we were at our lowest point. Could have gotten right through our tents, but, well, it just wanted to fuck with us. Finally, it stopped. And just as I thought it was gone, I heard it say my name twice, in a taunting kind of tone. Then a huge tree came tumbling down, and that was it.

Traumatized, everyone stayed inside their tents until we heard trucks come. Over the radio, we were told to pack our tents in less than 30 seconds and get on the trucks. We had no more than five minutes. I wasn't going to be the first one to step outside, so I waited until a good number of people got out. I've never seen a group of people who were faster in my life. The tents were stuffed into their bags, poles bent, and bags were halfway on our bodies. People practically stumbled into the trucks. We were told that we were being evacuated due to terrible conditions, and we were heading back to base.

But we all knew the real reason. I was relieved to be out of the cold, but we were still on this damn mountain, and that thing would still be able to find us. When we got back, we all showered and got into dry clothes. No one talked. They just went to sleep and tried to understand what had gone down that day. Each and every single one of them realizing that we would likely go back up there in a few days. The next morning, after being evacuated, everyone was obviously exhausted and a few guys were sick with pneumonia. Being wet, cold and nearly scared to death really took a toll.

I don't think the incident with the thing outside our tents was talked about in large groups, but it was definitely talked about off on the side. A few guys maintained the fact that it was just a great big prank and laughed it off. But whenever they laughed, it was like they were asking for some form of validation. Even in the rear, we were kept busy cleaning weapons and gear and getting ready for whatever was next. Our unit has an unexplainable obsession with training, and it really cut into our morale. But at least it made time go by fast. Life seemed pretty normal despite the weather.

I stayed indoors at all times unless we were exercising. I didn't have the hard to tell anyone who was probably watching us from the trees. even if I didn't feel it. The farthest I'd ventured was maybe a week after coming down the mountain. The base is a small store with an infantry identical to a gas station. I gotten tired of what they were feeding us. My mind had started to rationalize all of my fear away. So, I went.

Nothing crazy happened. But I did, however, notice there were people there who were definitely not. Marines. These guys were big, burly, and sported full beards. I pretended to look at the selection of Doritos and caught a glimpse of a very particular Trident tattoo. This meant that whoever this person was was a Navy seal, currently or at some point. I wonder about the other guys. I approached the bearded guy and simply asked him if he was a seal. When he turned around to look at me. He simply looked and said, Yeah, sure. How'd you know?

The tattoo is a dead giveaway. I used to see my college roommate hang all that motto shit up in this room. Oh really? was all he said. I didn't know what to say, but I wanted to impress him. He's actually a seal now. His demean that got a little friendly. Oh shit, what's his name? Kurtz, he's an officer. Is his first name Walter?

Yeah, it is. Do you know him? Do I know him? He's outside smoking a cigarette. Now, a little info on my friend. We worked out a lot together as we both had a sick fascination with pain. Either running, hiking or swimming. We would torture ourselves nearly every day until he left. I kept up with him as he went through all the training cycles.

Then he just disappeared. I'm talking gone from every fucking form of social media. I talked to his parents and all they got from him was the occasional letter. It always bothered the hell out of me that he straight up disappeared from the world without saying a damn thing. I thought about it nearly every day. There he was. Outside. And all I wanted to do was get one good punch in.

If Navy SEAL or not, he's still a dick. When we stepped outside and I saw him, I still hated his guts, but I had a feeling that me versus a bunch of Navy SEALs probably wasn't going to work, despite having the power of God and anime on my side. He didn't even notice me until I'd said his name. In any other setting, I probably should have saluted since he was an officer and I was enlisted scum, but I didn't give a shit. He seemed genuinely happy to see me and wouldn't let go of my hand. We did some catching up, mostly questions from him about my boring life.

Whenever I had asked him stuff, he would deflect, make a joke, or give me a one word, I'm. the man just would not elaborate about what he's been up to. After about ten minutes of talking, the group of them decided they were just about done stocking up on mountain dew and gummy worms. Before they headed back, Kurtz pulled me aside and threw his cigarette to the ground. With a look of complete concern and worry, he said, Listen, you really shouldn't go back up there. This ain't the place you want to be.

You understand? I wasn't really sure what to say. I just nodded solemnly before he shook my hand and left. That was the last time I've been able to talk to it. One thing to note is that that group of guys didn't all have beards or tattoos. Don't get me wrong here, but Navy guys do have a certain look. I can't explain it unless you've been around them long enough. but not everyone in that group was a seal.

I saw one guy wearing an army-related t-shirt, so I'm guessing there was some form of cross-branch team. Anyway, I headed back to the concrete hotels and spent some time reading, just trying to get my mind off what he had said. Should I break my ankle or pretend to be sick? They don't have Uber here, and the highway is quite some distance away.

Ultimately, I decided that my pride was more important than my life. I ended up going back into the mountains. I felt nothing but dread. Here I was being stalked and harassed by something. And on top of that, the Marine Corps is destroying my body every day. The human body isn't designed to hike 170 kilometers in a week with 200 pounds of gear, let alone up mountains. However, sometimes you get a break. The hikes were relatively short and all we did was practice our rock climbing skills at night. After about three weeks

in these mountains, my body started to get used to the altitude and the amount of physical activity we were doing. I was counting down the days in my head every few minutes, making quick calculations and crunching the numbers on each activity, and how much closer I was to safety. Things weren't going to be that easy, of course. I had a pretty decent amount of anxiety and dread this entire time. But I rationalized that it was just my mind. I didn't notice until the third day,

when we peaked on one of the larger mountains, that we were headed for devil's incline. It had to be a mistake, because the compasses were acting weird right. I talked to a few of the higher-ups, and, sure enough, that was our final destination, because the CEO thought it would be a challenge. Oh, great.

They're leading us straight to our deaths. Dolce de Corum est kind of deal. The closer we got there, the worse I felt about this hole. thing. I couldn't sleep for more than ten minutes because I swear I could feel it watching me. Not wanting to go crazy. I confided with my squad leader and the whole he said was, yeah, I feel it. Don't want to talk about it. The next day we were briefed on our final training exercise. Our job was to assault to the peak of devil's incline. The vast majority of it would be climbed using carabiners and rope and traditional techniques.

The final 500 meters is mostly gravel and can be traversed on foot. We would be provided overwatch by special forces operating in the area. Nothing new. The military is imaginative. If we see them, ignore them. We begin the assaulted sunset and get to the middle of the mountain around midnight. everything's going smooth with climbing the cliff slowly and methodically on one particularly large cliff I set up one of the anchor points so the Marines can repel from another

side of the cliff I turn around and head for the next cliff before I start to climb somebody angrily asked me why the hell I cut the line that I could have gotten someone kill I respond that I didn't cut the line and head back to see what the hell had happened. The rope was sliced perfectly, like surgically almost. If you've ever cut climbing rope before, you'll know that it's almost impossible to get such a clean cut. You'll always have a tiny bit of fraying, even with the sharpest of knives. This rope had no fraying at all. I'm assuming that this was the same thing that's been harassing us all months. trying is best to kill us.

Fortunately, there weren't many cliffs after that. The 500-meter slope of gravel turned out to be way too sleep to hike straight up. Also, out of nowhere, a blizzard decided to make our lives hell. To this day, I've never seen such terrible weather. We're talking 70 miles an hour winds, white out conditions, everything. It was insane. On the way up, I swore I was going to freeze to death. The slope seemed like it would never end.

After about three hours, someone had mentioned that multiple Marines were missing. Our first reaction was to stop and sit there for an hour, and then sent half of us back down in an attempt to find those Marines. That was the coldest I'd ever been in my life. At least hiking provided some warmth But sitting there being buried alive in snow and wind Yeah, it was bad I don't know who made the call to keep pushing forward to the top

But it was the only way anyone was going to survive There was a road on the other side of the mountain With vehicles most likely waiting for us There was no use kicking around anymore for Marines in the snow Because things were just getting worse Pretty much everyone had some things. form of frostbite. We just didn't have the right gear to protect ourselves. Finally, we got to the top, and thankfully there are tents waiting for us. The tent I'd got was broken, so I ended up piling in

with a bunch of other guys like a bunch of sardines. Jeez, what a shit show that was setting up in the wind. They gave us maybe 20 minutes while they figured out what to do with the missing guys. I'm assuming they called the proper authorities way before that. It was way too windy for helicopters, nearly impossible for even us to search the area. The wrong gust of wind could literally blow us down the mountain, tumbling face first. Their solution was to first use our thermal optics from the top and search for the guise that way. Nothing. Then we all got on a big line and held hands if we walked down the mountain. Nothing. Granted, we didn't bring out 200 pounds or crap with us, so it was a lot easier walking back up. But by now it was 4 a.m. and it seemed to be getting worse.

They told us to go back to our tents and warm up for 20 minutes because guys were literally turning into zombies. This is quite possibly the weirdest part. For the next 12 hours, no one remembers what the hell happened. Everyone woke up in their tents and has absolutely zero recollection. It was daytime now and everywhere was covered in snow. A few of the special forces guys, including Kurtz, were talking to all of my higher-ups about something. I didn't find out until later that the SF dudes found all of our missing guys at various locations. Not 30 kilometers far, but much shorter distance is like 5 to 10 kilometers. Ears bleeding too.

Well, that's not impossible to hike in a few hours. It's damn hard to get lost on a mountain where your only objective is to go up. Not to the side or around or down. Up, damn it. We radioed that in and the base camp sent special vehicles designed for the snow to get them. They kind of resembled half-tracks. The same day, they loaded us up on these special snow trucks and told us we were going back to the barracks.

When we got there, we were debriefed on how successful our mission was and some BS about accountability of the guys. Blah, blah, blah. In any other situation, they would have lost their jobs if they lost a Marine. Just not in Bridgeport, I guess. We packed up our bags that night and got woken around 3 a.m. to get on a bus back to the desert. I was extremely relieved to be back. No one ever really talked about our time there again.

The guys who disappeared always came back from the hospital, saying they didn't remember anything. Or that they didn't want to talk about it. Wow. All I can say is never go. to Bridgeport, folks. After Bridgeport, we were given a pretty decent amount of time off due to various public and military holidays.

I spent most of it sleeping and drinking, as well as indulging myself in the countless luxuries I'd gone without while I was away in the mountains. Oh, it was nice to finally relax and recover a bit. However, good things don't last long. Pretty soon, we packed our bags, grabbed heavy things and headed off into the desert.

We went through a few short but boring field ops that you guys probably wouldn't want to hear about. But this one in particular was in December, and things have drastically changed weather-wise. It was now winter and the temperature hovered just above freezing. Oh, the wind was the worst part. You could wear five billion layers and somehow the wind would cut through all of them and slow. slowly drained the heat from your body. Yep, it was miserable. For the first few days we did some live fire training exercises.

The funniest part was probably when they had me blow up a piece of plywood riddle with nails, labeled door to simulate a breach. Except, someone cut the time fuse on the charge a little too short, and it went off just as I'd gotten behind cover. The riflemen flooded in through the smoke and dust blindly. blindly and cleared the objective of those evil paper targets. It was great. Our next destination after that was a giant ghost town in the middle of the desert. Now get this. It is extremely detailed and built to simulate a real city in the Middle East. When we got there it was pretty dark and the

streetlights were off. We quickly grabbed our packs and found a vacant building to set up in. It was pretty creepy because there were paintings on the wall. Furniture in every room. There was even detailed things like an old computer or treadmill with power outlets. It was as if they quite literally copied and pasted an entire town out into the desert. Hundreds upon hundreds of buildings, complexes, bazaars, churches, everything. Being out of the wind, given a few hours to sleep, I figured I could get some rest in before the training scenario started the next day.

Nope. All throughout the night, I was woken up the entire time by a constant banging noise. I figured that the wind had picked up and there was a loose shutter or door somewhere nearby. Great. I finally had enough and put in the foam ear protection that we wear when we shoot. That worked, and I slept like a lot. lock for the rest of the night. The next morning, we started the day just as the sun was coming up. It was still cold and windy, and I wasn't really excited to eat an MRE, so I just drank some water

and basked in the early morning sun in a desperate attempt to warm up. Pretty soon, our next task was explained to us. For the next few days, we would build a small base in one of the houses and send patrols out into the city to look for insurgent fighters, played by Marines. There would be civilian actors playing out roles like the mayor, local religious leader, police chief and so forth. Then we were given some annoying laser-attack system for our body and our rifle. Our rifles would fire a laser every time we fired a blank round, and if we got shot by another laser, a laser attack system would start beeping loudly and repeat our status.

either injured or dead. It all sounded pretty cool, actually. We picked a pretty large three-story building next to a road and began fortifying our defenses. First, we surrounded the entire perimeter with tons of barbed wire. Then we blocked off all exes with sandbags and furniture, except for one. There was only one way to get in,

and that was right in front of a machine gun that we had set up on the floor above. We blocked all of the windows on the third floor and the stairs to get there with furniture, just in case they decided to climb in somehow. Well, they weren't allowed to anyway. It was a well-built defense, and we were proud. No one would be able to sneak in.

During the night, my squad went out to patrol and looked for bad guys, while one squad slept and one squad defended our compound. All I can say is that it was super creepy and exhausting. We must have walked for two hours and made it halfway through the town maybe. When we finally got back from our uneventful patrol, we were told to sleep for a few hours. Sure enough, I started to hear the same damn banging. This time it was louder.

It was like a dull thud on an old eye. on an old iron door. Slowly and methodically, it never missed a beat. A few of us agreed that we would find out what the hell was making the noise and put an end to it on our next patrol. I put my foam earbuds back in

and stepped for maybe an hour or two before I was woken up by what sounded like a training grenade going off outside of the building. Oh, great. We're being attacked. It's 2 a.m. and people are shooting at us and throwing fake grenades. A few people's laser systems are beeping loudly, and they are, notionally, bleeding out.

The rest of us are shooting out of windows and calling out targets. The machine gun above me is raining hot brass down the stairs. It was, honestly, great fun. The insurgents eventually disappear into the dark, and my squad is sent to pursue them. We checked the surrounding area, but all we found were unarmed civilians. They were pretty great actors.

I'll give that to them. I felt extremely immersed in the situation when they told us they would only give us information if we gave them guns to protect themselves. Yeah, not gonna happen. On the way back to our base, I made sure we did a quick check for whatever the banging noise

that was keeping us awake all night was. We tracked the noise to a building that wasn't very far away from our little base. Maybe two hours is over, but blocked from our view. Now, here's the weird thing. All of the windows and doors were covered with sheet metal and bolted shut. When we got close, the banging had stopped, but we all knew it was coming from that building specifically,

unable to do anything. We went back and posted up on various positions to pull up security so that the other squat could rest. could rest. I got the short end of the stick and ended up on a window facing in the direction of the building. Before I relieved the guy standing there, I asked him if he'd heard the noise from the building. He nodded and said he'd heard it all night. I felt like Edgar Allan Poe listening to the raven, slowly going mad by myself. Somewhere in my dreamy stupor, I posture. I posture, that somehow one of the insurgents had snucked their way into the building and were pulling some kind of siops on us by banging away all night.

Just as I passed this up, the banging stopped, and I looked like an idiot. Pretty soon the sun came up. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. We set up a few checkpoints and interacted with the locals, gave them water, asked them about the insurgents and so on. typical role-play fun. Once the sun set, we were again harassed by the insurgents, but this time it was less fun because I'd slept maybe three or four hours in the last few days. It was over in ten minutes,

and another scot went out looking for them. I sat down to try and get a quick nap in, and then the banging started right back up. I was getting pretty damn irritated at this point, so I insisted on heading out with a few guys to check the surrounding buildings. The building with the banging had no way of getting in. So I got creative and thought maybe there was a tunnel. We ran around to each house and kicked all the rugs around like some terrible guests.

And boom, we found a hatch. Now, we were told not to enter any of the tunnels because the fans they used for ventilation were no longer functional. They told us we could suffocate, but I didn't really think we'd use up all the oxygen in just a few minutes. And so we made the decision to go down. We dropped down, and it was absolutely pitch black. So we turned on our flashlights and proceeded forward to the end of the tunnel. As we got closer to the ladder, we heard something similar to the sound you hear when you turn a really old television on.

Kind of like a mix between that and when your ears start ringing. All of the hair on my body stood up. There was a slight tinge of fear creeping up on me, but I decided to ignore it and start climbing the ladder. I opened the hatch and immediately began clearing the pitch black room. Nothing. I moved towards the stairs while the rest of the guys flowed in. At first, I thought,

it was something breathing hard from the exertion. But now I was sure of it. I could hear the faintest whisper of someone saying, we're in here, coming from upstairs somewhere. We moved tactically up the stairs in pairs and began clearing the rooms out. When we got to the end of the hallway, there was what looked like a kid's room, and I went in. Nothing. Then the man. Then the The batteries on my flashlight started to fade out. Impossible. I just replaced them today, and they don't drain that fast. I think it was either the corner or the closet,

but I heard what sounded like a little girl's laugh. More like a giggle. I ran straight the hell out of that room and was met with several... What the fucks? Someone nervously asked if that was me. I said, no, it wasn't. and I made the executive decision that we were all getting the fuck out of there.

All of us were nearly panicking at this point, but we tried to keep it together long enough to get the fuck out of that house. We started to make our way back down the stairs, when we heard the laughing again. As we approached the hatch, we noticed that now, of all times, there was tons of furniture stacked on top of it. desks, wardrobes, couches, even a microwave.

Pretty soon our flashlights all faded slowly out and we all scrambled towards the pile of shit. The rest of the flashlights died out. Everyone panicked and started blindly throwing and shoving things out of the way. The laughing grew louder and more sinister like it was coming down the stairs. Oh, after what seemed like years, we cleared everything and opened the hatch.

We jumped straight down and scrambled back to the other hatch and through the tunnel. We made it out and pretty much ran back to our little fort, 25 meters away. All of us were scared to shit and nearly woke everyone up with our stumbling around and cursing. Our lieutenant asked what had happened. We told him, and he wasn't really sure whether to believe us or not. his only response was Yeah I've heard some pretty weird stuff about this town

And then he walked away We tried to sleep for the next few hours I went up to the second floor Because I figured that was the safest I knew that I wasn't going to go to sleep With some creepy stuff going down next door But it was nice to sit down and relax Around 3am

I heard what sounded like someone running upstairs loudly. Now, this is impossible, because we'd blocked off the stairs to the third floor with desks and couches so that no one would be able to get in from the roof. A few guys were woken up and were sent to go upstairs to clear it out. Oh, absolutely nothing. None of the furniture had been moved. Now, I didn't sleep at all that night. In the morning, the townspeople began rioting outside of our compound. It was peaceful at first, but then someone with a backpack detonated an imaginary IED despite our best efforts. As soon as the IED went off, we took fire from pretty much everywhere, and a lot of us were killed.

We were told to go to an aid station all the way across the city to get revived. I felt like a zombie from the lack of sleep and the countless patrols. Once we were revived, we were told that our mission had changed. We were no longer on the defensive, but we would be clearing out a sector of the town as part of a larger force. This would be our final event, and then we would be able to go home. We got maybe an hour of sleep before the sun went down and the offensive started. It was pretty easy at first, until we started to take contact from various buildings. We cleared most of them and didn't find anyone except for a few open hatches.

We sat around and held security while they figured out what to do. Logically, the people in charge of us concluded that the insurgents must have escaped through the tunnels, even though everyone was told not to use them. Cursing under my breath, our squads broke off when I followed my fearless leaders into one of the tunnels. It was pretty simple, but much longer this time. When we got to the very end, we climbed the ladder and tried opening the hatch, but it wouldn't budge. Gee, awesome.

So we headed back the direction we came, and just as my cynical self-predicted, the hatch we'd entered with was stuck too. A few of the stronger guys attempted to muscle it open, but it was like someone had put a huge, border on top of it. We tried our radios, but they weren't working, so we resorted to banging on the hatch. Nothing. A few of the guys started panicking, but all I wanted to do was go to sleep. So I sat down and accepted my fate, as I reconsidered if I'd made the right decisions in life. Now, I was never claustrophobic, but right now I was starting to feel like I was.

Guys were still banging loudly, and I started to filter them out. Maybe five minutes later, we heard someone banging on the hatch. We knocked back. They banged again. Someone yelled, we're in here. We waited a few seconds for a response. But what we got back still haunts me to this day. It was the same damn little girl laughter we'd heard the other.

night. We all froze. Whatever was on the other side started to bang again, slowly and methodically. I felt like I was in a torture cell. I tried my best to drown that sound out and think about anything else. No one dared to knock again. It must have been two or three hours. I don't remember. But it felt like an eternity before we heard footsteps from above. Everyone held their breath and listened. We heard some furniture being shifted and a few curse words that quickly gave away their identity. Oh, other Marines. Finally. Soon the hatch was opened, and before we were all even out of the tunnel,

we were all getting absolutely chewed out to shreds. Multiple higher-ups yelling and cursing. The guys in charge of us were threatened with some punishments, but I personally was pretty relieved to get yelled at and beat being stuck in there. From what I heard, they noticed we weren't part of the assault and assumed we were put out of the game.

They didn't realize until after they'd regrouped that we were still missing. They got our last known location from one of the other squads who had entered the other tunnels near us and backtracked their way to us. I'm glad that someone remembered where we were, because a lot of the buildings had the same damn paint job. Following that incident, it was nearly morning time, and we hung out until trucks came to pick us up and took us to base. That was easily one of the more terrifying experiences, because being buried alive scares the hell out of me to this day.

Things seemed to calm down in the desert for a few months. Well, we'll skip over a few uneventful field ops And go forward to March It was still miserably cold And the wind still chilled us to the bone But the sun stayed in the sky Just a little bit longer with each passing day I just spent the rest of my Sunday packing

And getting ready for an excruciating week-long field arm I've become quite knowledgeable of all the ranges by now Each of them having their own story Usually they brief us on what we'll be doing But this field up was extremely tactical and our objectives depended on many different things. So I really didn't have a clue on what we were doing. The first day, we drove out to some random compound with four walls. We dropped our packs and we waited there to get picked up by tracked vehicles, Aavs, a whole day.

And mostly we slept. When the night hit, a terrible sandstorm engulfed us. You couldn't open your eyes for more than a few seconds. If you did, you could only see for a few feet in front of you. It was equally as amazing as it was terrifying. Around midnight, the track vehicle showed up, and we piled inside gratefully. We expected we'd go somewhere, but we ended up just sitting there for a few hours before we abruptly started driving in an unknown direction for about two hours.

And then, we stopped. We waited for what felt like an eternity. We weren't allowed out because the justification was that we could be notionally shot and put out of their little war game. Ooh, awesome. Finally, after about 10 hours, we were allowed to relieve ourselves and grab food out of our packs. We only got a few minutes, and it was dark outside.

So that means I'd just spent an entire day inside a vehicle. But at least the sandstorm had died down. A few hours passed by. I can't sleep sitting down on a tiny bench with 16 Marines cramped into a vehicle, meant for 12. Everyone else is asleep, except for one of the crewmen on radio watch. Suddenly, I hear a knock on the back hatch. It was clear as day. I nudge a few guys close by, to get them to open the hatch, but most of them tell me to fuck off and go back to sleep. I play the clueless card and put my head down, hoping that whoever knocked would just go away.

The knocking continues for about 30 more seconds. And then, it stops. Who the hell would be knocking anyway? We have radios for a reason. I'll spend the next few hours falling in and out of sleep before someone wakes us up and tells us we have five minutes to stretch and piss. I have no idea what time it is or where I am. We all pour out of our tin can prison and spread out.

There are other vehicles around us, but none of the Marines are out. I head over a June to take a leak and take a few seconds to admire the stars. A sight for sore eyes. Somewhere in front of me, I see a dark figure off in the distance. There were no AAVs over there, and we were arguably in the middle of nowhere. As they get closer, I see that it's the Marine, but I can't make out who it is exactly. They aren't wearing a flak jacket or a Kevlar, just some ragged desert camis and a boom. That's not allowed on this field of.

He gets closer and I recognize a familiar, dead gaze that doesn't reflect any light. He looks very different this time. A different body, I guess. Don't talk to him. Don't even look at him. Geez, I already broke one of those rules. So I started sprinting for the A-A-V. I tell everyone to get the fuck inside with enough fear in my voice.

to get them going. And grab my radio and get in contact with that same lieutenant. Surely he would understand. He was the platoon commander for the platoon I was attached to, so I called him up on the radio. PBR Street Gang, this is Vehicle 6. There's a Sergeant Wright in our perimeter. Roger. Solid copy, Vehicle 6.

PBR Street Gang out. I overhear a bunch of radio chatter coming from the crew, apartment. Twenty seconds later, the vehicles start up and we're driving away into the desert for safer lands. Suddenly, we come to a grinding halt. People and gear go flying about. I can feel the vehicle turn around and drive the way we came. What the fuck? One of the crewmen ducks down from his turret and informs us one of the vehicles flipped where we were just at. and it was on fire. We were going back to help.

Luckily, the Marines had gotten out just as it flipped. We were already packed to the brim, but we managed to make room for four more Marines. All of them were pretty banged up. We drove off, and I'm assuming someone was called to deal with a burning A.A.V. There wasn't much we could do with a single fire extinguisher we had in the passenger compartment. Someone asked one of the guys what the hell happened to the A-AV, and his response was that they heard a knocking on the hatch. They were told not to open it, and a few seconds later, the engine turned on, and the whole thing flipped without even moving.

Suddenly, a fire broke out, and they all managed to scramble out before things got worse. This is not the first time this has happened. Yeah, if you Google 29 Palms A-A-A-V accident, you'll see a ton of articles. It's an extremely common thing, and most of them don't make the news unless someone gets hurt. We spend the next few hours driving somewhere unknown. I had no clue where we were, but I could tell the terrain had a lot more hills and ditches. By the number of times I'd banged my head. We'd gotten word that we were preparing for some big attack on a...

small town. So, we spent the next 18 hours locked up in the tin can, occasionally moving short distances. The bad thing was that there was a fuel leak somewhere inside. All I could smell and taste was fuel. It was pretty terrible. We slept a lot, which made sense because we were being poisoned. Eventually, we'd stopped just outside a town we were tasked with clearing. The ramp dropped, and we stumbled out. The sun was bright and I felt blind. A few guys tripped because they were so lightheaded from the fumes, but I managed to keep my balance and started to run for cover behind a tank.

A few other assaultmen followed me, and well, it was a terrible decision. Standing behind a tank is like standing behind a jet engine because of the heat coming from the exhaust. They quite literally burn jet fuel, J.P.8. I was the only one in the huge cone of heat for maybe a second before I ran around the tank and sprinted towards the town tripping over rocks and coughing up fuel from my lungs but well we made it to the town

pretty soon we discovered it was completely empty turns out that our enemy had been completely taken out by artillery and aerial acids notionally of course we spent most of the day airing out our lungs and appreciating the sunlight before we got back into the Amtrak's and drove to a seemingly empty spot in the desert. As soon as we stepped out, we noticed that things had started to randomly catch on fire. No, this wasn't hell or anything crazy.

We'd stumbled upon an area where the white phosphorus shells had been dropped. Being Marines, we were amused by the glorious fire rocks and began to kick them at people before we got yelled at. We were told the trucks would come before the sun went down, but we didn't make it back to base until around midnight. We spent all Friday cleaning our weapons, and we didn't get off until 6 p.m. A friend and I decided that we were going to go to Las Vegas and celebrate modern civilization. To get there, we took the notorious Amboy row. Well, I've driven it many times before, but to those who don't know about Amboy, it's a two-lane highway that comes. cuts across the middle of the desert.

You get the feeling that you are quite literally in the middle of nowhere. There's no cell phone signal for most of the drive. If you crashed, it would likely be an hour or two before an ambulance could get to you. There are plenty of stories about satanic cult members laying down in the road or staging accidents to stop drivers. They ambushed the unsuspecting Good Samaritans, and they're never seen again. The golden rule of this road is pretty much that you should never stop. If you see someone on the road, just keep driving.

Now that I think about it, there's probably a good reason that I never see any truckers or cops on this road. Anyway, the ride to Vegas from base takes about three hours. We hit the road pretty late, and it was particularly windy. Visibility was shit due to the sand blowing all about. I had the great idea of drinking tequila in the passenger seat to make time go by faster. We were about halfway there when my bladdered decided that it didn't care about satanic cots and we had to absolutely stop.

We pulled off onto the soft sand, I opened the door to get out. It was a pretty cloudy night, so there was absolutely zero ambient light. I could see a few feet in front of me because of the car's headlights, but even those were dimmed by the blowing sand. With my eyes half open, I saw something dark dash in the corner of my eye, followed by a yelp and a torrent of curses from my friend. I quickly stumbled back towards the car and saw my friend on the ground, face first with something biting his leg violently.

All I could see was an extremely dark, lumpy shape. It was like someone It sewed a bunch of different parts of mangy animals together I froze in fear Unable to make a decision Before I could move The thing looked at me with eyes that glowed faintly red And took off down the road

All of this happened in maybe 15 seconds I got my friend in the backseat And inspected his wound The only way I could describe the bite mark is that it was the size of a human's bite, but with pointed teeth that were spaced apart. It was bleeding pretty badly, so I did what any marinas taught. I took off my belt and placed it a few inches above the wound to make a makeshift tourniquet. Then I wrapped it in my t-shirt, elevated it, and hoped for the best.

He obviously couldn't drive, and I figured I was sober enough to drive the straightest highway in the world. well, I'm usually extremely against drunk driving, but I wasn't staying around to play with whatever was out there. I helped him hop his way over to the passenger seat and ran back to the driver's seat. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the tequila, but I was scared as hell. I could barely hold on to the steering wheel because my hands were shaking so badly. I tried to throw in some shitty jokes to lighten the mood, but they were more for myself. than for him. At first, I cruised along at a mere 70 miles an hour, and it's about 112 kilometres an hour, just to play it safe. But pretty soon, my friend started to quite literally

scream in pain. The way he described it was, a million daggers flowing through my fucking bloodstream. I sped up after that and watched the ETA drop slowly on the GPS. My friend was in complete agony the entire time, but I honestly couldn't do a thing for him. I told him to bite the seatbelt, but I knew he was beyond that kind of pain. For about five minutes, he began muttering and slurring his words. It then progressed to something completely incomprehensible. Then he was quiet, but he still had his eyes open. I sped up to about 90 miles an hour, because I was so worried he was going to die. I was trying to get the signal on my cell phone

when I noticed a bunch of blue and red lights scattered about the inside of the car. Shit. I'm drunk. My license is expired and I'm speeding. Keep in mind, I haven't seen a cop the entire time I've been on this road. I begin to slow down gradually

and look for a good place to pull over. As I'm looking in the mirror, I notice that my friend's radar detector is not going off. That's weird. I'm picturing a billion situations in my head, and all of them end badly. First, I'll get destroyed on the civilian side with a DUI and a ton of fines. Then I'll get absolutely destroyed by my command. Loss of pay, restriction to my room, and a demotion. Fuck, fuck.

Fuck. I keep looking for a good spot to pull over. I round a slight bend in the road and take my eyes off the rearview mirror. The road straightens out and I immediately look back at the rearview mirror. Nothing yet. I keep driving and glance a few more times. Nothing at all. What the hell?

My eyes are locked on the mirror and I'm waiting for those lights to come around the bend. Absolutely nothing. Suddenly, my gaze is averted by a flashing orange light in front of me. I slow down even more, and there's a sign in the middle of the road saying, Road closed, detour, with an arrow pointing to the left. Granted, this is a straight road, and I'm not going off on some dirt road detour in a Honda Civic, even if it means I can evade the cops. So, I stop right in front of the sign and grab the GPS off the car.

the dash. As I'm looking at the different routes, the cop car suddenly comes up literally out of nowhere and it's behind me now, flashing its lights, straight up materialized. I look in the mirror and I don't see anyone in the front seats. I don't see any cops walking towards me, but I am beyond creep the fuck out at this point because a mysterious cop car just comes out of nowhere. My friend is still unconscious and has been bitten by something crazy. Suddenly, all of its lights turn off. I step on the gas and run over this stupid sign in my way. The cop car doesn't follow me. I spent about five minutes going dangerously fast before I start to slow down. Visibility is still shit, but after driving this road enough, you know where all the bends and curves are, thankfully.

Up ahead, my headlights reflect off something. I start to slow down, thinking there's another sign to tell me the road is closed. Nope. Off on the side of the road were a bunch of cars, extremely similar in shape to the cop car that was behind me. Except it was just a burnt-out shell. One car was flipped completely, and another was on its side. Both burnt to blackened metal as well. I wondered if that would have been my car, if I'd stopped for this mysterious car that appears out of nowhere.

I never saw another road close sign, and eventually gone a bigger, more frequented highway, just outside Prim. At this point, I got service and called 911, who told us that the closest hospital was in Vegas. When we arrived, I went in first and told the situation to the receptionist. They came out with a wheelchair and whisked him away while I sat in the waiting room and filled out some dumb form. All I know is they couldn't stitch up his leg

due to the nature of the bite but cleaned and bandaged the wound. He did eventually wake up a few hours later with some sweet drugs. It was almost five by the time we finally checked into our hotel. He spent the weekend in the hotel while I lone wolfed the city

well, in his honor, of course. We both made extremely sure to drive back during the middle of the day. The only weird thing that I could say happened was that the sun was trying to kill us when it was setting. Even with sunglasses on and sun vizes down,

we couldn't see a damn thing. We had to slam on the brakes after seeing a car driving extremely slow in front of us. Well, eventually the sun went down and we were treated to hundreds of different colors, constantly changing in complexity and warmth. We didn't see the burned-out cars, the signs, or any more cops. However, we did see two cars that had obviously collided head-on,

pushed to the side of the road. Both front ends were horribly mangled. I didn't see anyone inside, so we kept driving. I honestly don't believe that, Whatever had bit my friend was a coyote. They're usually extremely skittish and scared of humans. Their bite marks don't match what my friend had either. Nor the excruciating pain.

It had to be in connection with whatever or whoever was trying to run us off that road. Jeez, so much for a relaxing weekend after the field. I'm going to take a break from chronological order. briefly talk about something more recent. I happen to be going to another ghost town, also known as M-O-T-Tens. This one was much smaller and not that far from the base. There were maybe eight buildings in total, and they varied from single-story to three-story buildings. We spent all day hiking to this town.

It was just about late afternoon when we finally sat our packs down in the buildings. The bone-chilling wind decided to pick up and the temperatures hovered around freezing as the sun slowly disappeared. We spent the next five hours practicing various skills in an urban environment. Clearing rooms, detainee handling, throwing frag grenades and so on. It got old pretty fast, considering I've been doing this for years now. Around 10pm, we were given the go-ahead to go indoors. away from the wind and get some damn sleep in our warm sleeping bags. I took the first watch because I liked to get a good block of sleeping.

After an hour I woke up the next guy and I went to sleep. I was asleep for maybe thirty minutes before I was woken up with a nudge. I groggily emerged from my bag and noticed it was one of the newer guys who had just woken up for watch. He'd only been here for maybe a month or two. My first words, understandably, were... Gee, what the fuck do you want? Well, um...

Spit it out. For the last ten minutes, I kept seeing these two yellow dots across the street, in the window. Okay. I was staring at them for a while, and I heard what sounded like you. Call me over, except that... You were in your sleeping bag. Absolutely pissed beyond belief.

I put my boots on, grabbed my rifle, and stormed across the street. I went to the open door, and it was locked. These doors don't have any locks for safety reasons, so they must have barricaded the door

or tied it. I went around back and tried the other door. Locked. Got it. Whoever was in there was a fucking dick for scaring the new guys, well, and waking me up. As I was walking back across the street, I heard her, Where are you going?

But it definitely wasn't another Marine. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I stopped dead in my tracks. The voice was a kind of mix between a whisper and, well, it carried an icy mocking tone with it. Yeah, fuck that shit. I'm going back indoors. I locked eyes with the guy who woke me up, and we both understood what the hell just went down. I told him to wake up the next guy in a few minutes and go back to sleep.

I got back into my sleeping bag and drifted off to sleep as I tried to burn all of the details into my memory. Well, for you guys, of course. I didn't get woken up again until the sun rose. The wind seemed even fiercer. and it was still ungodly cold. But we were indoors, luckily, and the sun was rising. Not bad.

Pretty soon, we got word that we all had to move our packs and go about 100 metres from the town. A few guys complained and griped, but we did as we were told. I was equally curious as to why we had to move our packs outdoors. The scuttlebutt was that a few guys, including the commanding officer, had some weird experiences in one of the buildings during the night.

All of them refused to sleep in the same building ever again. I drifted around while everyone was shaving and eating breakfast to see if I could shed some more light on this sudden exodus from the town. I found one of the guys that had been in the building pretty quickly and asked him what he'd seen. Basically, the night started out with all the guys huddled around listening to my stories on YouTube so they could scare the newer guys.

Then, a few hours later, a few of them started having crazy nightmares about being in the town, and some creature with cat-like eyes tearing them apart. Except, they were the kind of dreams that never ended. You woke up from one, and you're in another.

They said they never knew if they were in the real world or not. The guy on watch tried waking them up. They just continued to breathe heavily, to sob, whimper, and fidget. And when they woke up, they were terrified, and the message was clear. Get the fuck out. I didn't really know what to make of it all, but I told them to quit listening to my damn stories. Well, not here at least.

I'm assuming that this thing was in the building across from mine but laid a mess with the other building for God knows what reason we continued on with our day and it was packed to the brim with training during one of our few breaks I decided to venture to the building that they were all staying in the night before I had a few guys come with me just in case and it was pretty basic

a few chairs a desk and a filing cabinet I saw that there was a rug on the ground and kicked it on a pure whim. I laughed when I saw the trap door. I opened it and looked down, but didn't see anything unusual. I decided just to take a few pictures and move on. There was a weird painting on the wall. Well, it may be a falafel menu or some weird voodoo shit. Any ideas are welcome.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. We continued on into the night with our classes and training. It was all mostly a blur. I'd gotten back into my sleeping bag and uploaded the picture of the trapdoor on Twitter and then went to sleep. Around 3 a.m. I was woken up for watch and put on just about every warming layer I own because of the wind. It was a pretty dark night due to all of the clouds hiding the moon.

But I could still see the outline of various bushes and trees. shrubs on the skyline. I walked around a bit to keep warm. I turned my back towards the empty desert, away from the wind. I thought of how nice it would be to get back into my sleeping bag. After about 15 minutes, I turned around out of habit and saw a large, dark figure on the horizon, maybe 100 metres away. Just as soon as I saw it, it vanished.

I made a mental note of the location so I could check it out the next day. I woke up the next guy and got a few more hours of sleep before the sun came back up. Unfortunately, I didn't get time to wander off into the desert until around lunch. I grabbed a buddy of mine and we walked to where I was standing when I'd seen the thing. From there, we walked our hundred meters and we were just about to head back when he spotted some wood sticking out. a little further away. We kicked a good portion of the sand away and realized it was another trap door.

What the hell was a trapdoor doing this far out from town? Our packs were 150 metres from the town and the trap door was another 100 metres out. It just didn't make any sense to have a tunnel entrance 250 metres away. Well, I wasn't bawlsy enough to open. the thing, but I knew I had to get a picture. My friend, the Mortimer, his half-honey-badger,

and decided to open it just as I was taking the picture. We didn't go down, but, well, he couldn't see the bottom, just an endless ladder. The rest of the day was uneventful, and I didn't have watch that night. Now, to be clear, we still trained in the houses during the day and early night, but we didn't sleep in them. I did hear from another close friend that he would get weird vibes from a few of the buildings when we were still in them during the night. The next day, we messed around with simulation rounds, which are basically nine millimeter bullets with a wax projectile filled with paint. I didn't get shot, fortunately, but they're about 10 times worse than a paintball from past experiences. Instead of going to sleep,

sleep that night, we'd gone back into the town to set up a patrol base where some guys would standpost, some would patrol, and some would rest. God, I swear Marines have amnesia. The night started out uneventfully, just a few patrols. We didn't have any enemy, so it was purely just for practice. I slept for maybe an hour and a half, and then we stepped off onto another patrol around the town. It felt like a waste of my time. But at least we were out of the buildings. When we came back, we were approached by a bunch of mortar men. Last, if we would help them find their mortar system. Now, if you don't know what a mortar is, it fires explosive shells out of a cannon into the air. It's not very heavy and can be

effective at decent ranges. Apparently, the guys on the mortar system were all asleep with one guy on watch. He was dutifully standing in the wind and then, well, he wasn't. He woke up inside of the house and the entire mortar system had vanished. He doesn't remember anything and swears he didn't just go to sleep to get away from the wind. This was one of my friends who went and checked out the trap door with me, so I trust what he says. Keep in mind, we didn't have any enemy that night, and no one would fuck around and steal shit. These things are extremely expensive, and no one would dare mess around like this. But people still doubt him. The entire company was woken up at 4 a.m., and we searched everywhere inside of the town in vain. Then we

expanded outwards. After about 30 minutes of checking the same areas multiple times, I had an idea. I went over to my mortarman friend and told him we should go check the trap door in the desert that he had opened. We grabbed a few other mortar men and told some people where we were going. When we got there, the trap door was open despite of how bad the wind was.

I sure as I wasn't going to go down there. But the mortar men were angry and decided to go down just to make sure. I didn't really like that idea at all. Three guys went down, and it sounded like it was about ten feet. It was pitch black, and the flashlights didn't really seem to do much. They were talking amongst themselves for a few seconds, as they walked further into the tunnel,

and then they were out of earshot. Thirty seconds passed, and then I started to get worried. I told myself to wait another thirty seconds before I did. anything. Just as I was counting down, I heard what sounded like a little girl laugh. And then the sound of running footsteps. Pretty soon I heard the guys climbing up the ladder. I heard the same laugh again, but this time closer. The first two guys had various components of the mortar system and the last guy had the actual mortar tube, or whatever it was. now. It looked like someone had bent it over their knee. I slammed the door and practically sprinted

back to the town. Once we got there, we communicated that we'd gotten the damn motor system back. The guys that went down had some explaining to do to the officers, but I'm sure they understood. I went back to sleep for a few more hours until the sun came up, and we were woken up for our safety brief. Our last and final day there. We were going to be using blank rounds, smoke grenades and flares. That was a busy day. As soon as the sun went down, we all went to sleep. No more training at night in that town. We all got that message. I didn't have watch again, but it did hear that a few guys heard this strange laugh during the night. One of the guys, Guy's even supposedly got a recording of the laugh on his phone. Well, it's been a while since I've

been able to update. Let me start off by saying, I'll spend a lot of time in the field without creepy things happening, so I don't think a Marine's life is filled with creepiness. Just recently, I was out there for a few weeks, and nothing remotely spooky happens. Anyway, we last left off in the middle of February with update number four. It's April now, spring. The desert is slowly transitioning from a cold and windy purgatory to a scorching sandbox. Luckily for us, we hit the jackpot of deployments and headed off to Australia to do some training for six months instead of baking in the desert. Now, I know what you're thinking. Australia sounds great. I thought that too, until we'd landed in a place called Darwin and stepped off the plane.

Instantly, it felt like we were inside of a sauna. It was extremely humid and we were sweating through our thick uniforms within our first few steps onto the tonic. It was hell. Flies and mosquitoes everywhere. They would crawl into your mouth and up your nose if you let them. It seemed like they weren't the only ones with a death wish in this tropical prison. For the first month, we did our little dog and pony show to impress the Australian army. We worked out twice a day and told them all how cool we were.

The food they fed us was always some kind of stew, from yesterday's leftovers. Yep, that got old real quick. Being Americans, we quickly found the nearest fast food restaurant and supplier of two liters so we could stock up on calories before the field.

We really didn't know what to expect before our first field up. All we knew is that we would head into the thick brush, hundreds of kilometers from civilization, and expect to be killed by 20 different animals by the first night, if we were lucky.

That's not an exaggeration. by any means. There's this plant called the Jimpy Jimpy, aka the suicide plant, because the pain from its sting is so intense and long-lasting that most people and animals just kill themselves. Also, there's a virus in the dirt known as the Vietnam Time Bowl. Stuff will kill you from the inside out.

Our first few days out there and we're pretty exhausted. We did a ton of patrolling at night, or as I like to call it, walking blindly into spider webs. We would try to sleep during the day, but if you slept for more than an hour, you'd wake up dazed and dehydrated from the beating sun. I think it was around day 12,

towards the end of a field op, when things started to get interesting. We were completely fucking lost, as usual, and wandering around in one long file during the night. There was no moon, and all you could hear were various birds and animals repeat the same noises over and over. It was all a blur until the guy in front of me stopped and picked something up.

I didn't really pay any mind to it until we halted for a break, and he turned around to me. Hey, check this out. I found a doll. What? A fucking doll. He held it up, and sure enough, it was a doll. Its body was completely carved out of wood, and it had some fake red hair glued on. Its eyes were just burn marks and it had a creepy little smirk scratched across its face. Weird. Now, keep in mind, we are literally in the middle of nowhere. Most of these lands were completely unexplored. As I'm sipping water and trying to wreck my brain for answers as to why the fuck there's a random doll in the middle of nowhere, we start moving again. I completely forgot about the creepy little doll for the next few hours, while we mindlessly walk.

around and tried to find our objective. It was all a blur, and I fell asleep a few times while walking, so I don't really remember much. Eventually, we found our way, and arrived at the objective. A small clearing in the middle of nowhere. It was the early morning now. We were supposed to sit there all day and wait for more orders. We were all pretty darn tired at this point, so I sat down and stared off into the distance, and drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly, I hear a few grunts to my left, and sure enough, the machine gunners are playing with the doll they found. They're a simple, mighty breed, and easy to maintain, but they always find a way to screw everyone else over. I remember the distinct thought of, yeah, that's probably not a good idea. I fell back asleep, and we spent the day napping and planning for our next objective. Finally, the sun set, and we headed off into the distance to our new. objective. I remember being kind of excited that we only had one more thing to do, and then we

will be back to base. As the night went on, our long file of Marines began to get more and more spread out. The brush became thicker. Absolutely zero ambient light. I was struggling to keep up with a guy ahead of me. People kept Kedin lost, and we were constantly stopping to find them. We were just trying to get out of the jungle by this point. I was already creeped out by the extreme darkness. But when our compasses, radios and GPS equipment started going crazy, I began to lose some composure. No matter how much we spun our compasses or reset our GPSes,

it would always slowly turn us back the way we came. Our radios turned on, but all we could hear was just some kind of white noise. Nothing. I knew right away it had something to do with a doll. Maybe it was some weird voodo-aboriginal witchcraft doll. Who knows? Bad vibes indeed. I told the guy who picked her up to gently set her down somewhere nice and then keep walking.

Nothing. Everywhere still went haywire. Our leaders decided to take a break to see if they could figure out how to navigate using the stars. Being in the southern hemisphere, the constellations and sun. such are a lot different. While I'm trying to do my best to keep a cool and level head, I hear the guy in front of me started

frantically screaming. Pure fucking terror. A few guys walk up to him and calm him down, and he spits out a stream of expletive followed by doll. Shit. The doll somehow made its way back

into his backpack. We were too spread out for this to be a practical joke. This was just too impossible. We both walked past it when we set it down. Now, no one's laughing. He grabs the doll and puts it down. Then he starts talking to it and apologising like it was a real human person.

I remember making a mental note of how observed this all was. By now, our fearless leaders seem to have figured out where to go. So we start moving. I didn't want to stop because I knew the doll was probably still with us but we're talking about lieutenants we're bound to get lost eventually we stop but all of us are holding our breath while the guy checks his pack

nothing we sit down and relax the air gets a little lighter and easier to breathe there's a bunch of commotion coming from a few guys back though One of the lieutenants found the doll in their bed. He's completely lost his mind at this point, laughing and crying at the same time. Day 12 of the field-op and all the heat, bugs and creepy cat just about broke his mind.

We put the doll against some log a few metres away from us, and everyone pauses to assess the situation. We're lost in the middle of nowhere. We have no idea where we're going, and we don't have much water. Oh, awesome. I can imagine the smirk on the doll's face, while we all collectively start to lose our minds. At least the sun is starting to come up.

The next 30 minutes, we try to confirm our last known location and get a general idea of where we are. But the doll isn't done with us just yet. Suddenly we start to smell smoke. Off in the distant tree line, we see a blazing fire and we pick up. Someone grabs the ineffective lieutenant, and we head away from the fire into the opposite direction. Sure enough, it's coming from that way too. We keep trying to find a way out, until we realize we're walking in circles.

Fire is everywhere in the face of imminent death. sit down and take cool pictures and hope someone finds them in the after. I was never really a believer in any kind of higher being, and I'm still not. I guess we just got extremely lucky. We heard a helicopter fly overhead, and I'm assuming they realized we were lost after we hadn't checked in for a super long time. The pilot made an amazing landing between some trees, and began ferrying us out to clearing a few hundred feet away.

He made a conscious effort to leave that damned doll behind in the flames. However, my troubles were not all behind them. Guess what we found when we got back. I woke up, dazed in the back of a Humvee. It was the middle of the day and the AC was still broken. Whatever weird, crazy dream I was having was gone. And I was still in the hell known as 29 paths. We weren't going fast enough to make the heat go anywhere, but I still kept my head close to the window and stared off mindlessly.

Our self-chosen, metallic prison hurled itself farther and farther into the desert, kicking up dust as it went. Hey, look up ahead on our right. There's someone walking, said Gomez, who is in the back seat with me. We slow down. A lone figure stumbled slowly forward with her head downwards. Details emerged, and I realized it was a man. I've heard stories about random scavengers and drugged out romers, but I didn't think they were ever true. Pretty soon, he stopped moving and simply stared at us as we passed.

He had short, mangy, grey hair and wrinkled, leathery skin. somewhere in the depths of his dark eye sockets. There might have been eyes, but I didn't see them. He wore a ragged black shirt, an old short. All he did was stare at us as we passed, without emotion or gesture. A few guys joked around, but I think we were all a bit nervous of who the hell that was. After an hour or so, we arrived at our destination. and began to set up complex defence on a flat piece of land.

By the time 2am came around, we'd finished building our defensive perimeter. Machine guns and mortars were dug in, and we had tanks off to our flanks. I thought for a second, no one is taking our flat piece of land. And just as I thought that, the wind picked up and blew sand into my face. I took the first hour of watch while the other two guys slept for a bit There probably wasn't going to be anyone attacking us tonight But good habits win wars

Or something like that After an hour of being blasted by the sand I emerged from my hole to wake the next guy up I found one guy But I didn't see the other He was probably behind a rock or dune or something I woke up the one guy saw and he grudgingly put his gear on. He probably knows where the other guy is. So, I got inside

my sleeping bag and fell asleep instantly. Pretty soon, someone was shaking me awake. I checked my watch and realized I'd only been asleep for an hour. What the hell are you waking me up for? Go wake up Gomez? I can't fucking find him. I've been looking for him for ten minutes. He's not here, fucking boot. I get out of my sleeping bag and begin getting dressed. Gomes couldn't have gone very far. I spent about five minutes checking the surrounding dunes of sand for him and came up with nothing.

I checked his bag and his sleeping bag was definitely gone. So, he was somewhere. Pretty soon, everyone was awake and we were in one big line combing the desert for this guy in the early morning light. We'd gone about a kilometre from our original spot, and people began to just believe that he'd run away at this point. We went a little farther, where there was a small mountainside that we grudgingly climbed. When we got to the top, people jokingly checked under each and every rock.

Hey Gomez, are you under here? as some Lance Corporal lifted up a small boulder. Well, he wasn't under any of them. As we were coming down the other side of it, we noticed there was a small opening in one of the rock faces that resembled a very old mine shaft entrance. Most of the old mines had been barred up, but this one wasn't for some reason.

We made a quick decision that a handful of us would quickly check the place out while the other marines headed back, just to be sure, right? I was the first one in. It was definitely a very old mine shaft. Whatever wood that was left was rotting into dust. That gave me anxiety,

but we crept forward slowly with our lights as bright as possible. As I creeped farther and farther into the cave, I noticed it was a lot cooler inside, which was nice, but it gave me a strange vibe. Eventually, we got to a split in the cave. Two of us went left and two of us went right. Typical horror situation, yeah?

Well, I ended up going right. I was quickly disappointed with a dead end, maybe 15 metres in. As I was walking back, I heard some cursing and people struggling about on the left side of the cave. One Marine was on the ground, unconscious, and Gomez, our Houdini of a Marine, was on top of the other one. He was in a fully primal fight or flight mode. I got that just in time, as Gomez picked up a rock to smash the other guy's head in. He just wouldn't snap out of it.

Not the Gomez we knew anymore. It took the three of us an exhaustingly long time to finally choke him out. We caught our breath for a minute, before we slowly dragged him and our other unconscious friend out. When we started to see the entrance of the cave, I saw the ragged, weathered, and dark figure I'd seen on the road earlier. It's too late, said the wickedly evil voice. I woke up, dazed, in the back of a Humvee. It was the middle of the day, and the AC was still broken. broken. Whatever weird, crazy dream I was having was gone, and I was still in the hell known

as 29 palms. We weren't going fast enough to make the heat go anywhere, but I still kept my head close to the window and stared off mindlessly. Our self-chosen, metallic prison, hurled itself farther and farther into the desert, kicking up dust as it went. I looked to the left, and there was an empty seat. Confused, I asked. Where did Gomez go? Who the fuck is Gomez? And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast.

My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place,

and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.