Okay, once again.

Quote:
The tears stained his cheeks as the concussion told him it was over. Longing thoughts of his wife, children, and that little vegtable garden danced through his head. But these thoughts were cut down, compacted, and carried off by the bullet ripping through his skull. In an instant all his dreams wishes and concerns exploded forth onto the wind. His faceless shell of a body flopped to the ground, where life had no further use for it.

The murderer was a fair haired marine of just sixteen. Lied to join the service. Simply known as Redneck due to deep southern roots. He was breathless as he shouldered the M16. This was his first VC kill and a chill decended upon him. What have I done? He thought picking at a warm spot on his face. Discovering blood, but not his own. He stood and contemplated the deep red stain now coating his fingers. And the baptism by fire that produced it.

The thumping of helicopters decending from the heavens broke the silence. "Round it up! Lets go." a uniform cried out.

Redneck wiped the blood across his thigh while gathering his gear. He gave the faceless shell of a body another look. Is this all there is? Is this what it takes to be one of them?, he thought while trotting off to join the others.

Sargent Mills stood faceing the platoon of uniforms. "We are returning to base" He announced. But this was meet with mumbles of concern from the camouflaged crowd.

"We just got here, why drag us back out?" a brave uniform inquired.

"This ain't no war" Mills was irritated. "We are here to..."

The uniforms mumbled in hushed tones.

"What are we here for!?" Mills demanded.

The sea of camouflage produced a tiny voice. "...kill gooks. We are here to kill gooks".

Mills wasn't impressed. "WHAT ARE WE HERE FOR!?"

"KILL GOOKS!" the uniforms retorted in unison.

"And that don't require you to think now does it?" Mills was on a roll now. "This ain't a platoon of pussies, We are here doing what the gooks won't do themselves...ain't that right Redneck?"

A bolt shot through Redneck, instict forceing him to yell "Sir, YES SIR! I ain't afraid of killing gooks!". His voice reverbed with the droneing thump of helicoptor engines. Sarge looked pleased and would accept him now, the other uniforms too. But is it realy worth it? Redneck thought.

He was begining to feel numb as he climbed onboard a helicoptor. Soon they would be back on base. Redneck shivered as not even the promise of warm showers and hot food could warm him. Glanceing at the dried blood smeared on his fingertips. Yeah, I'm returning to base Redneck mused, and I brought a souvenir.

Yeah, this is still a little rough. Just trying to tie everything together, make it more consistant.

[Edited by - MSW on September 3, 2007 2:01:44 PM]

MSW's version is a big improvement. To help you understand why, I'll go through it bit by bit and try and explain why it works better than the original.

Quote:
The tears stained his cheeks as the concussion told him it was over. Longing thoughts of his wife, children, and that little vegtable garden danced through his head. But these thoughts were cut down, compacted, and carried off by the bullet ripping through his skull. In an instant all his dreams wishes and concerns exploded forth onto the wind. His faceless shell of a body flopped to the ground, where life had no further use for it.

This tells me what the victim is thinking without actually getting inside his head, which was something that didn't quite feel right in the original. Recalling the simple pleasures has a stronger sentimental impact than complaining about the lack of a flashback, and gives you a better idea about who this guy was (probably not a VC but an innocent farmer who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, which adds to the tragedy).

Quote:
The murderer was a fair haired marine of just sixteen. Lied to join the service. Simply known as Redneck due to deep southern roots. He was breathless as he shouldered the M16. This was his first VC kill and a chill decended upon him. What have I done? He thought picking at a warm spot on his face. Discovering blood, but not his own. He stood and contemplated the deep red stain now coating his fingers. And the baptism by fire that produced it.

Introduction of Redneck is all in one place, so the various bits of information about him are in context and flow better. It describes his feelings about what he has done, which immediately makes him seem like a more real character; in the original, I had no idea whether he was supposed to be a naive, underage grunt who was being forced to deal with the horrors of war, a murderous psychopath who signed up young just to go and murder people, or something else. This version makes it clear, and develops the character in a way that the reader can understand.

Quote:
The thumping of helicopters decending from the heavens broke the silence. "Round it up! Lets go." a uniform cried out.

Redneck wiped the blood across his thigh while gathering his gear. He gave the faceless shell of a body another look. Is this all there is? Is this what it takes to be one of them?, he thought while trotting off to join the others.

Sargent Mills stood faceing the platoon of uniforms. "We are returning to base" He announced. But this was meet with mumbles of concern from the camouflaged crowd.

"We just got here, why drag us back out?" a brave uniform inquired.

"This ain't no war" Mills was irritated. "We are here to..."

The uniforms mumbled in hushed tones.

"What are we here for!?" Mills demanded.

The sea of camouflage produced a tiny voice. "...kill gooks. We are here to kill gooks".

Mills wasn't impressed. "WHAT ARE WE HERE FOR!?"

"KILL GOOKS!" the uniforms retorted in unison.

"And that don't require you to think now does it?" Mills was on a roll now. "This ain't a platoon of pussies, We are here doing what the gooks won't do themselves...ain't that right Redneck?"

A bolt shot through Redneck, instict forceing him to yell "Sir, YES SIR! I ain't afraid of killing gooks!". His voice reverbed with the droneing thump of helicoptor engines. Sarge looked pleased and would accept him now, the other uniforms too. But is it realy worth it? Redneck thought.

The conversation now has a point. It establishes the character of the Sergeant and to some extent, the rest of the squad. It also further develops Redneck's character; we can see that he objects to what he is being ordered to do, but lacks the strength to oppose it, at least for now.

Quote:
He was begining to feel numb as he climbed onboard a helicoptor. Soon they would be back on base. Redneck shivered as not even the promise of warm showers and hot food could warm him. Glanceing at the dried blood smeared on his fingertips. Yeah, I'm returning to base Redneck mused, and I brought a souvenir.

Interesting ending... Redneck's closing thoughts leave me with an ambiguous impression of his final state of mind... is that a sort of cynical, joking thought? Is he going to turn into a mindless killing machine as the sergeant wants him to, or is he going to somehow survive with his sanity/humanity intact? It raises questions in the readers mind, and leaves him wanting to find out what happens next.