WEBVTT

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<v Speaker 1>The jungle of Vietnam has a heartbeat. It pulses through

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<v Speaker 1>the roots, the vines, the humidity that hangs like wet

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<v Speaker 1>blankets from the canopy. It hums like insects, cicadas, and

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<v Speaker 1>the faint rumble of distant artillery. At night, it becomes

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<v Speaker 1>something entirely different, a living organism that stalks, whispers, and

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<v Speaker 1>hides things that daylight refuses to admit. Hill eight sixty

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<v Speaker 1>eight rises like a broken knuckle above the quang Nam Province,

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<v Speaker 1>a steep, fog drenched ridge claimed by both the Marines

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<v Speaker 1>and the jungle. Up there, the air changes colder, heavier,

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<v Speaker 1>and the silence grows thick enough to choke on. Locals

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<v Speaker 1>refused to climb at after dusk. They called it Nui

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<v Speaker 1>Kuwah Nawi Zung translation Hill of the forest People. Most

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<v Speaker 1>American soldiers didn't know the name, but they learned its

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<v Speaker 1>meaning soon enough. June nineteen sixty eight, the rainy season,

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<v Speaker 1>mud leeches, and a monsoon sky that never seemed to clear.

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<v Speaker 1>A squad from third Battalion, fifth Marines made their slow

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<v Speaker 1>push upward, boots sinking into wet clay, rifles slung but ready,

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<v Speaker 1>radio chatter fizzled with static as the platoon crept along

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<v Speaker 1>the ridge. The fog was so thick it seemed to

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<v Speaker 1>swallow each man whole. Corporal Michael mac mc allister marched

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<v Speaker 1>at point, a solid kid from Ohio, built like a

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<v Speaker 1>full back, with the eyes of someone who had slept

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<v Speaker 1>a full night in months. Behind him, Private Danny Ruiz,

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<v Speaker 1>barely nineteen rosary beads hanging from his M sixteen stock,

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<v Speaker 1>scanned the tree line with jittery precision. Feels wrong up here,

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<v Speaker 1>mac Ruis muttered, Everything in this damned country feels wrong.

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<v Speaker 1>Mack replied. The squad set up near a cluster of

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<v Speaker 1>moss covered boulders, forming a natural defensive position. Hill eight

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<v Speaker 1>sixty eight gave them elevation, visibility and the sense, however false,

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<v Speaker 1>of safety. But the jungle didn't like intruders, not here,

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<v Speaker 1>and the Marines weren't alone. Nights slapped down like a curtain,

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<v Speaker 1>No stars, no moon, just the dark. The men sat

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<v Speaker 1>in a semicircle of dim red lights, cleaning rifles, whispering jokes,

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<v Speaker 1>and trying to ignore the heavy breathing of the jungle.

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<v Speaker 1>The radio hissed as Corporate Ellis adjusted the dial Then somewhere,

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<v Speaker 1>just beyond their perimeter, a branch snapped. The men froze.

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<v Speaker 1>No one breathed. Another crack, heavy, deliberate halt. Mac whispered,

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<v Speaker 1>raising his arm. The squad lifted their rifles in silent unison.

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<v Speaker 1>Rus' breath hitched. Something large moved beyond the fog. Sound

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<v Speaker 1>not a gunshot, not a grenade, A rock, a big one.

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<v Speaker 1>It bounced across the ground, skidding to a stop near

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<v Speaker 1>their fire pit. Ruis swallowed the hell you hear that, VC,

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<v Speaker 1>don't throw rocks, Alice murmured. But something did. A low, chest,

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<v Speaker 1>deep hoo ha echoed from the trees. It was no

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<v Speaker 1>animal that they could recognize, not a tiger, not a boar,

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<v Speaker 1>not a gibbon. The sound felt almost human. Then another

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<v Speaker 1>rock sailed overhead, slamming into a tree trunk with a

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<v Speaker 1>deep thump. Bark exploded into the air. The marines scrambled

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<v Speaker 1>behind cover shapes dark upright, silhouettes appeared at the edge

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<v Speaker 1>of the fog. One, then two, then six. Their glowing

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<v Speaker 1>eyes shine flickered like embers in the mist. Jesus, they're standing.

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<v Speaker 1>Someone whispered, like like men. The fog thinned for just

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<v Speaker 1>a moment long enough for the Marines to see what

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<v Speaker 1>was stalking them. Tall shapes five to six feet, broad shouldered,

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<v Speaker 1>covered in shaggy, reddish brown hair. Their arms hung long,

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<v Speaker 1>almost to the knees. Their chests rose and fell with slow,

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<v Speaker 1>angry breaths. The creatures stepped closer, bare feet, crackling twigs

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<v Speaker 1>beneath them. Ruis's rosary beads shook in his fingers. Mac whispered,

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<v Speaker 1>what what are the The creature in front, the largest,

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<v Speaker 1>let out a deep grunt and hurled a stone the

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<v Speaker 1>size of a cantalope. It smashed against a boulder inches

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<v Speaker 1>from Ellis's head. The Marines opened fire, not at the creatures,

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<v Speaker 1>but overhead, trying to scare them off. The creatures didn't retreat.

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<v Speaker 1>They roared, screamed deep resonant bellows that vibrated the men's

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<v Speaker 1>rib cages. Then they began to throw rocks, rained down

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<v Speaker 1>like primitive artillery, sharp heavy projectiles that slammed into trees, helmets,

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<v Speaker 1>and gear packs. One rock clipped Private Iverson's shoulder, knocking

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<v Speaker 1>him onto his back. Whole fire, Mac shouted, knowing that

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<v Speaker 1>bullets ringing through fog could ricochet or hit their own

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<v Speaker 1>men just keep their distance, but the creatures circled them,

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<v Speaker 1>moving in coordinated arcs. Something primal and intelligent pulsed in

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<v Speaker 1>their actions. Not random violence, but tactics, territory warnings. What

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<v Speaker 1>doll we do? Mac whois whispered, voice crackling, Hold the line.

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<v Speaker 1>The jungle erupted. One creature rushed forward, roaring so loud

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<v Speaker 1>it drowned out the sound of gunfire. It slammed both

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<v Speaker 1>fists into a tree trunk, splintering it. Leaves and dust

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<v Speaker 1>rained down. A second creature leaped onto a boulder, chest,

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<v Speaker 1>heaving as if calling the others to advance. The marines

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<v Speaker 1>unloaded rounds into the air. Tracer fire illuminated the fog,

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<v Speaker 1>red white, and gold streaks slicing through the night. Through

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<v Speaker 1>that flickering light, the creatures became monstrous silhouettes, their hair

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<v Speaker 1>whipping with their movements, their arms raised as they hurled

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<v Speaker 1>more rocks from the shadows. Another left flank, Ella shouted

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<v Speaker 1>mac spun, firing a three round burst into the dark

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<v Speaker 1>to force the creature's back. Mac Ruiz cried. He pointed upward,

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<v Speaker 1>directly above their position. A creature perched on a rock

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<v Speaker 1>ledge crouched like a gargoyle. Its eyes glowed amber, its

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<v Speaker 1>lips peeled back, revealing square, humanlike teeth. Ruis fired a

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<v Speaker 1>warning round at its feet. The creature didn't flinch. It

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<v Speaker 1>lifted a massive stone and threw it with terrifying accuracy,

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<v Speaker 1>striking Ruiz's helmet with a metallic clang that sent him

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<v Speaker 1>spinning into the mud. Danny Mack scrambled a shield him,

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<v Speaker 1>dragging him behind a fallen log. Ruis groaned, dazed but alive.

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<v Speaker 1>The ridge shook with the thunder of the creature's roars,

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<v Speaker 1>not just one, but a chorus. It sounded like ten,

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<v Speaker 1>maybe fifteen of them, maybe more. This wasn't harassment. This

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<v Speaker 1>was a territorial charge, and the Marines were deep inside

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<v Speaker 1>their domain. Mac we gotta pull out, Ellis shouted, reloading,

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<v Speaker 1>we stay, we die. He wasn't wrong. The creatures moved

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<v Speaker 1>with unnerving coordination, flanking both sides of the ridge. Rocks

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<v Speaker 1>smashed into the bowlders around them like mortar fire. The

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<v Speaker 1>Marines were pinned down by completely unconventional warfare. Primitive, yes,

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<v Speaker 1>but overwhelming. Fall back point. Charlie mac ordered the men

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<v Speaker 1>fired suppressing shots into the trees, not aiming to kill,

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<v Speaker 1>but to create distance. The creatures backed off for the

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<v Speaker 1>first time. Startled by the concentrated fire, Move, Move Move,

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<v Speaker 1>the squad fled down slope, boots sliding in the mud,

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<v Speaker 1>helmets rattling. The creatures followed at the distance, howling through

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<v Speaker 1>the fog. Ruiz limped beside Mac, still dazed. Are they

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<v Speaker 1>Are they chasing us? No, Mac said, breathless. There escorting.

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<v Speaker 1>The creatures trailed them only so far until the Marines

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<v Speaker 1>passed a line of ancient moss covered stones that formed

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<v Speaker 1>a strange natural boundary in the terrain. As soon as

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<v Speaker 1>they crossed it, the jungle fell silent. The roarers stopped,

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<v Speaker 1>the rocks stopped flying. The creatures vanished back into the mist,

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<v Speaker 1>like ghosts. It was their territory, their hill always had been.

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<v Speaker 1>At dawn, the Marines returned to base camp bruised, scraped

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<v Speaker 1>and shaken. Ruiz had a concussion. Iverson's arm was in

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<v Speaker 1>a sling helmet dense and smashed gear told the story

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<v Speaker 1>better than any words. They fled into the commandant, exhausted

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<v Speaker 1>and covered in jungle debris. Colonel Harrington, a hard nosed

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<v Speaker 1>officer who hated superstition, listened to their report with a

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<v Speaker 1>neutral expression. You are telling me, the colonel said, slowly,

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<v Speaker 1>that a group of what apes attacked you on a

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<v Speaker 1>ridge with no documented primate species larger than a macaque.

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<v Speaker 1>Mac stared back, jaw tight, Yes, sir, and they walked upright,

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<v Speaker 1>Harrington added, and threw rocks. Yes, sir. The colonel folded

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<v Speaker 1>his arms. Marines, you engaged in a firefight with shadows,

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<v Speaker 1>stress animals. Nothing more, but the dented helmets on the

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<v Speaker 1>table said otherwise. Ruis reached into his pocket and tossed

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<v Speaker 1>a strange object onto the desk, a stone, polished smooth

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<v Speaker 1>as river glass, but with deep, finer grooves set into

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<v Speaker 1>its side, too deep, too wide. Harrison picked it up, frowning,

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<v Speaker 1>where did you get this? Ruis whispered. One of them

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<v Speaker 1>dropped it, silence soaked the tent. Finally, Harrington placed the

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<v Speaker 1>stone down, as if it were radioactive. This incident, he said, quietly,

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<v Speaker 1>did not happen. Understood. The Marines nodded, but none of

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<v Speaker 1>them believed it. Because they had seen the eyes, heard

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<v Speaker 1>the roars, felt the rocks smash around them. They knew

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<v Speaker 1>exactly what they encountered on the hill. Eight sixty eight.

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<v Speaker 1>Years after the war, veterans gathered in bars, VFW halls

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<v Speaker 1>and reunions. The topic always came up. Eventually, someone would

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<v Speaker 1>goli glants over their shoulder, lower their voice, and say,

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<v Speaker 1>you remember those damn rock apes, and every man who'd

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<v Speaker 1>been there, truly been there, would nod slowly, eyes distant.

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<v Speaker 1>Some swore the creatures were relic commends. Others believed they

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<v Speaker 1>were undiscovered primates. Some thought they were something in between.

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<v Speaker 1>Most simply said they were real. I don't care what

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<v Speaker 1>anyone says. In Vietnam, the jungle hides things. Even today,

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<v Speaker 1>the locals still whisper about Nui Kua Nui Zung, the

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<v Speaker 1>Hill of the forest People. But on one fog drenched

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<v Speaker 1>ridge in nineteen sixty eight, that hill, with those forest people,

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<v Speaker 1>they didn't hide. They fought. The Marines who survived that

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<v Speaker 1>night carried the memory forever. The night the creatures stepped

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<v Speaker 1>from myth into reality, roaring from the shadows and hurling

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<v Speaker 1>stones with the strength of ten men. The night the

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<v Speaker 1>Marines of three five fought a battle they were never

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<v Speaker 1>allowed to report. The rock Ape Boar of sixty eight,

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<v Speaker 1>Hill Ate sixty eight never gave up its secrets, not

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<v Speaker 1>to the scientists, not to the brass, and certainly not

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<v Speaker 1>to the men who tried to leave it behind. Long

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<v Speaker 1>after the war ended, the jungle reclaimed the ridge, vines

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<v Speaker 1>swallowed the foxholes, moss blanketed the boulders, and the fog

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<v Speaker 1>rolled in just as thick as it did in sixty eight.

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<v Speaker 1>Locals still avoid that place, and those who live near

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<v Speaker 1>it say the nights are never truly quiet. Every so

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<v Speaker 1>often a hiker reports strange echoes, heavy footsteps where no

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<v Speaker 1>trail exists, or the crack of a rock hitting stone

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<v Speaker 1>in the dark. Some say it's just the jungle playing tricks.

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<v Speaker 1>Others believe the forest people still guard that hill, just

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<v Speaker 1>as they did the night those marines crossed the wrong boundary.

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<v Speaker 1>Whatever the truth is, the men who survived carried one

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<v Speaker 1>certainty home with them. Something was there, something powerful, something alive,

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<v Speaker 1>and the jungle has never been quick to forget. Here

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<v Speaker 1>we are again, at the end of another journey through

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<v Speaker 1>the strange and the unexplained. To Day's dive into the

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<v Speaker 1>rock apes of Hill eight sixty eight reminds us that

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<v Speaker 1>some mysteries don't fade with time. They just wait for

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<v Speaker 1>the right story teller, Thanks so much for spending part

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<v Speaker 1>of your day or night here at Bigfoot's wilderness. If

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<v Speaker 1>you enjoyed this episode, be sure to check out my

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<v Speaker 1>friend Dave over at We're Bigfoot Roams. He's got some

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<v Speaker 1>great stories worth your time. Until next time, keep your

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<v Speaker 1>eyes open, your mind curious, and wanders safely. He