I served in the army for three years from 2018 to 2020, when I was medically discharged. I have many stories from my time there, but there is one that I have never told anyone else. It haunts my nightmares and consumes my every thought. I hope that by telling it I will be able to heal at least somewhat. Here it is.
In 2019, I was stationed in a small West African country. The US Army had a small presence there of about 200 soldiers. Our goal was to train the local army. The country was in disarray, having just emerged from a bloody civil war, and their army lacked both equipment and discipline. They were facing threats from Islamic extremists in their far northern provinces, which greatly concerned the US, as well as rebel separatists along their western border.
Our base was located along the outskirts of a small city of a few thousand inhabitants, on the edges of a lush jungle. Although the city was the site of bloody fighting during the civil war, it was then firmly in the hands of the central government, so we had some freedom to explore off base. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much, scratch that, there weren’t any forms of entertainment in the city itself. So during my down time, we often explored the jungle. Until we weren’t allowed to anymore.
For a kid from Bayonne, New Jersey, who had never seen a monkey outside of the zoo, it was like being transported to another planet. Monkeys swung through the trees, colorful birds sang high in the branches, and jungle cats roamed the forest floors. There were massive tree rats, which some of the men hunted for fun. On rare occasions, I caught glimpses of chimpanzees and gorillas.
About a mile from the base, hidden behind a waterfall, was a large cave. I had heard that during the civil war, many women and children took shelter there. Sadly, they were discovered and massacred by the rebel soldiers. The floor and walls of the cave was still stained from their blood. On the walls were hideous drawings of horrific monsters and beasts. I’m not sure if they were painted by the kids hiding from the rebels, or from before, but they were truly grotesque. The one I remember most was a drawing of a grinning half hyena half man, devouring an infant alive, blood dripping from its fangs.
Now it is important to note that our unit was nearly all male. And we were told the women in the city were off limits to us, for it was a very religious society, and our commanders did not want us to do anything that could upset the local community. It turns out that the locals were not as pious as we were led to believe, for there were several brothels in town, but since they knew the soldiers had no other options, they charged absurd prices. Plus, they were not always clean. We got shown slide after slide of images of infections, many incurable, that some of the soldiers got from the locals. They, of course, did not deter all of the soldiers, but some of us chose other options.
Many of the guys were married or had girlfriends, and would never do anything with another guy back home, but when deployed it was another story. Our favorite plaything was a guy named Pawel, who went by Paul. Paul claimed he was straight, with a wife and kids back home, but it was clear that he was anything but.
Anyways, one Sunday afternoon, Paul and I headed off base to the cave. It was a cloudy day, but, as usual, it was still unbearably hot. We entered the cave, glad that no one else was in there (we had intruded on others before).
About twenty minutes later, I heard some footsteps coming from the mouth of the cave. I quickly got off Paul and looked to see 4 soldiers enter the cave, AK-47s slung over their necks. I at first thought that they were government soldiers and was worried what the repercussions of being discovered would be, but then I realized that they were not wearing any uniforms. These were rebels, who had somehow penetrated the government’s defenses. I instinctively reached for my gun, but then realized that I left it on base. The soldiers, without saying a word, raised their rifles and sprayed the cavern indiscriminately. I thought I would die, but felt no pain, saw no blood. But I heard screams, screams of pain of an intensity that I had never heard before. I looked around and saw translucent figures falling to the ground in agony, their bodies riddled with bullets, women clutching newborns to their chests, trying in vain to shield them from the bullets. I looked to Paul, who had gotten up and was staring with me. I knew he was seeing what I was seeing. And then, suddenly, they all vanished.
“Just ghosts,” I said to a shaking Paul. Just ghosts, what a ridiculous thing to say, as if those two words make any sense together, but I couldn’t think of anything else. “Let’s get out of here.”
We quickly got dressed and made our way to the mouth of the cave. There, standing on two legs, was the hyena man. The one depicted on the cave drawing. Standing nearly ten feet tall, it was covered in bluish black fur, and had long, curved yellow claws. It grinned, revealing razor sharp fangs.
“Just a phantom, it can’t harm us.” I whispered to Paul. But it looked real, flesh and blood.
Suddenly, it pounced, knocking Paul to the ground. It swiped at his stomach with one of its claws, disemboweling him. As Paul screamed and trashed, the monster began devouring him alive.
I stood petrified for a few seconds, before I turned and ran into the blackness. I had never explored the cave and had no idea of how far it went, but I kept running, running into the dark. Eventually, I collapsed, unable to move.
I heard some awful howls, howls that have haunted my dreams since that day, and waited, waited for the monster to come eat me. I must have waited for hours, but then, miraculously, I saw a shaft of light and the chamber became illuminated. I clambered up some rocks and emerged in the jungle, the sun shining brightly.
I slowly made my way back to base. There wasn’t a roll call till that evening, so no one realized anything was amiss. And I wasn’t going to say anything, for what could I say? I just hoped no one saw me leave with Paul.
When it was discovered Paul was missing, a search party was organized. Some of the locals, both civilians and soldiers, joined the party, including the local priest, Father Joseph Nkobo. It wasn’t long till Paul’s body was discovered. He was completely unrecognizable, his flesh nearly all devoured.
Over protests, Father Nkodo went over to the body, made the sign of the cross, and poured holy water over it. There was a flash of bright blue as the water hit the remains.
“When I was a child, this monster, which is neither human nor animal, but of the devil, terrorized our village. Dozens of children were eaten. It feeds on terror, on pain, especially that of children. This cave was the site of a terrible tragedy, five years ago to the day.”
Some of the American troops laughed, but none of the local troops did, and neither did I.
“This is an evil place,” the priest continued. “It is best to be avoided.”
And it was. The next day, explosives were placed at the mouth of the cave, sealing it forever.
The official report said that he was attacked by a pack of wild dogs. But I know what I saw. The monster haunted my dreams every night since then, causing my mental health to deteriorate, eventually leading to my discharge. I thought that once I was out, I would start healing, but that hasn’t happened. Every thought is one of death. Nothing that I’ve tried can take my mind off the horrible events of that day. I’ve read articles that writing about your trauma can help, which is why I wrote this post. I don’t expect it to help, but I must find a way to end my torment.