Pink Angels


November, 1976

The ambush was short, sudden, and painful. It was an eerie sight—wrong, out of place, out of touch. The casualties mirrored the moment in red paint.

He pushed his way through bleeding rocks, with numbed legs… lost. “I’m hurt! HELP ME!” He emptied his bloody lungs. His vision spun around in a gigantic whirlpool of colors and sounds. He was losing himself to a blur of panicked voices and faces. Time slowed. There was a ringing in his ears followed by a moment of silence, and then his world faded to black…


A pink bird came down from the orange skies, its wings slashing sharply through the thick air. He felt warm tears dropping on his cheeks. The battle was over. Over!