Speaker 1: The jungle of Vietnam has a heartbeat. It pulses through
Speaker 1: the roots, the vines, the humidity that hangs like wet
Speaker 1: blankets from the canopy. It hums like insects, cicadas, and
Speaker 1: the faint rumble of distant artillery. At night, it becomes
Speaker 1: something entirely different, a living organism that stalks, whispers, and
Speaker 1: hides things that daylight refuses to admit. Hill eight sixty
Speaker 1: eight rises like a broken knuckle above the quang Nam Province,
Speaker 1: a steep, fog drenched ridge claimed by both the Marines
Speaker 1: and the jungle. Up there, the air changes colder, heavier,
Speaker 1: and the silence grows thick enough to choke on. Locals
Speaker 1: refused to climb at after dusk. They called it Nui
Speaker 1: Kuwah Nawi Zung translation Hill of the forest People. Most
Speaker 1: American soldiers didn't know the name, but they learned its
Speaker 1: meaning soon enough. June nineteen sixty eight, the rainy season,
Speaker 1: mud leeches, and a monsoon sky that never seemed to clear.
Speaker 1: A squad from third Battalion, fifth Marines made their slow
Speaker 1: push upward, boots sinking into wet clay, rifles slung but ready,
Speaker 1: radio chatter fizzled with static as the platoon crept along
Speaker 1: the ridge. The fog was so thick it seemed to
Speaker 1: swallow each man whole. Corporal Michael mac mc allister marched
Speaker 1: at point, a solid kid from Ohio, built like a
Speaker 1: full back, with the eyes of someone who had slept
Speaker 1: a full night in months. Behind him, Private Danny Ruiz,
Speaker 1: barely nineteen rosary beads hanging from his M sixteen stock,
Speaker 1: scanned the tree line with jittery precision. Feels wrong up here,
Speaker 1: mac Ruis muttered, Everything in this damned country feels wrong.
Speaker 1: Mack replied. The squad set up near a cluster of
Speaker 1: moss covered boulders, forming a natural defensive position. Hill eight
Speaker 1: sixty eight gave them elevation, visibility and the sense, however false,
Speaker 1: of safety. But the jungle didn't like intruders, not here,
Speaker 1: and the Marines weren't alone. Nights slapped down like a curtain,
Speaker 1: No stars, no moon, just the dark. The men sat
Speaker 1: in a semicircle of dim red lights, cleaning rifles, whispering jokes,
Speaker 1: and trying to ignore the heavy breathing of the jungle.
Speaker 1: The radio hissed as Corporate Ellis adjusted the dial Then somewhere,
Speaker 1: just beyond their perimeter, a branch snapped. The men froze.
Speaker 1: No one breathed. Another crack, heavy, deliberate halt. Mac whispered,
Speaker 1: raising his arm. The squad lifted their rifles in silent unison.
Speaker 1: Rus' breath hitched. Something large moved beyond the fog. Sound
Speaker 1: not a gunshot, not a grenade, A rock, a big one.
Speaker 1: It bounced across the ground, skidding to a stop near
Speaker 1: their fire pit. Ruis swallowed the hell you hear that, VC,
Speaker 1: don't throw rocks, Alice murmured. But something did. A low, chest,
Speaker 1: deep hoo ha echoed from the trees. It was no
Speaker 1: animal that they could recognize, not a tiger, not a boar,
Speaker 1: not a gibbon. The sound felt almost human. Then another
Speaker 1: rock sailed overhead, slamming into a tree trunk with a
Speaker 1: deep thump. Bark exploded into the air. The marines scrambled
Speaker 1: behind cover shapes dark upright, silhouettes appeared at the edge
Speaker 1: of the fog. One, then two, then six. Their glowing
Speaker 1: eyes shine flickered like embers in the mist. Jesus, they're standing.
Speaker 1: Someone whispered, like like men. The fog thinned for just
Speaker 1: a moment long enough for the Marines to see what
Speaker 1: was stalking them. Tall shapes five to six feet, broad shouldered,
Speaker 1: covered in shaggy, reddish brown hair. Their arms hung long,
Speaker 1: almost to the knees. Their chests rose and fell with slow,
Speaker 1: angry breaths. The creatures stepped closer, bare feet, crackling twigs
Speaker 1: beneath them. Ruis's rosary beads shook in his fingers. Mac whispered,
Speaker 1: what what are the The creature in front, the largest,
Speaker 1: let out a deep grunt and hurled a stone the
Speaker 1: size of a cantalope. It smashed against a boulder inches
Speaker 1: from Ellis's head. The Marines opened fire, not at the creatures,
Speaker 1: but overhead, trying to scare them off. The creatures didn't retreat.
Speaker 1: They roared, screamed deep resonant bellows that vibrated the men's
Speaker 1: rib cages. Then they began to throw rocks, rained down
Speaker 1: like primitive artillery, sharp heavy projectiles that slammed into trees, helmets,
Speaker 1: and gear packs. One rock clipped Private Iverson's shoulder, knocking
Speaker 1: him onto his back. Whole fire, Mac shouted, knowing that
Speaker 1: bullets ringing through fog could ricochet or hit their own
Speaker 1: men just keep their distance, but the creatures circled them,
Speaker 1: moving in coordinated arcs. Something primal and intelligent pulsed in
Speaker 1: their actions. Not random violence, but tactics, territory warnings. What
Speaker 1: doll we do? Mac whois whispered, voice crackling, Hold the line.
Speaker 1: The jungle erupted. One creature rushed forward, roaring so loud
Speaker 1: it drowned out the sound of gunfire. It slammed both
Speaker 1: fists into a tree trunk, splintering it. Leaves and dust
Speaker 1: rained down. A second creature leaped onto a boulder, chest,
Speaker 1: heaving as if calling the others to advance. The marines
Speaker 1: unloaded rounds into the air. Tracer fire illuminated the fog,
Speaker 1: red white, and gold streaks slicing through the night. Through
Speaker 1: that flickering light, the creatures became monstrous silhouettes, their hair
Speaker 1: whipping with their movements, their arms raised as they hurled
Speaker 1: more rocks from the shadows. Another left flank, Ella shouted
Speaker 1: mac spun, firing a three round burst into the dark
Speaker 1: to force the creature's back. Mac Ruiz cried. He pointed upward,
Speaker 1: directly above their position. A creature perched on a rock
Speaker 1: ledge crouched like a gargoyle. Its eyes glowed amber, its
Speaker 1: lips peeled back, revealing square, humanlike teeth. Ruis fired a
Speaker 1: warning round at its feet. The creature didn't flinch. It
Speaker 1: lifted a massive stone and threw it with terrifying accuracy,
Speaker 1: striking Ruiz's helmet with a metallic clang that sent him
Speaker 1: spinning into the mud. Danny Mack scrambled a shield him,
Speaker 1: dragging him behind a fallen log. Ruis groaned, dazed but alive.
Speaker 1: The ridge shook with the thunder of the creature's roars,
Speaker 1: not just one, but a chorus. It sounded like ten,
Speaker 1: maybe fifteen of them, maybe more. This wasn't harassment. This
Speaker 1: was a territorial charge, and the Marines were deep inside
Speaker 1: their domain. Mac we gotta pull out, Ellis shouted, reloading,
Speaker 1: we stay, we die. He wasn't wrong. The creatures moved
Speaker 1: with unnerving coordination, flanking both sides of the ridge. Rocks
Speaker 1: smashed into the bowlders around them like mortar fire. The
Speaker 1: Marines were pinned down by completely unconventional warfare. Primitive, yes,
Speaker 1: but overwhelming. Fall back point. Charlie mac ordered the men
Speaker 1: fired suppressing shots into the trees, not aiming to kill,
Speaker 1: but to create distance. The creatures backed off for the
Speaker 1: first time. Startled by the concentrated fire, Move, Move Move,
Speaker 1: the squad fled down slope, boots sliding in the mud,
Speaker 1: helmets rattling. The creatures followed at the distance, howling through
Speaker 1: the fog. Ruiz limped beside Mac, still dazed. Are they
Speaker 1: Are they chasing us? No, Mac said, breathless. There escorting.
Speaker 1: The creatures trailed them only so far until the Marines
Speaker 1: passed a line of ancient moss covered stones that formed
Speaker 1: a strange natural boundary in the terrain. As soon as
Speaker 1: they crossed it, the jungle fell silent. The roarers stopped,
Speaker 1: the rocks stopped flying. The creatures vanished back into the mist,
Speaker 1: like ghosts. It was their territory, their hill always had been.
Speaker 1: At dawn, the Marines returned to base camp bruised, scraped
Speaker 1: and shaken. Ruiz had a concussion. Iverson's arm was in
Speaker 1: a sling helmet dense and smashed gear told the story
Speaker 1: better than any words. They fled into the commandant, exhausted
Speaker 1: and covered in jungle debris. Colonel Harrington, a hard nosed
Speaker 1: officer who hated superstition, listened to their report with a
Speaker 1: neutral expression. You are telling me, the colonel said, slowly,
Speaker 1: that a group of what apes attacked you on a
Speaker 1: ridge with no documented primate species larger than a macaque.
Speaker 1: Mac stared back, jaw tight, Yes, sir, and they walked upright,
Speaker 1: Harrington added, and threw rocks. Yes, sir. The colonel folded
Speaker 1: his arms. Marines, you engaged in a firefight with shadows,
Speaker 1: stress animals. Nothing more, but the dented helmets on the
Speaker 1: table said otherwise. Ruis reached into his pocket and tossed
Speaker 1: a strange object onto the desk, a stone, polished smooth
Speaker 1: as river glass, but with deep, finer grooves set into
Speaker 1: its side, too deep, too wide. Harrison picked it up, frowning,
Speaker 1: where did you get this? Ruis whispered. One of them
Speaker 1: dropped it, silence soaked the tent. Finally, Harrington placed the
Speaker 1: stone down, as if it were radioactive. This incident, he said, quietly,
Speaker 1: did not happen. Understood. The Marines nodded, but none of
Speaker 1: them believed it. Because they had seen the eyes, heard
Speaker 1: the roars, felt the rocks smash around them. They knew
Speaker 1: exactly what they encountered on the hill. Eight sixty eight.
Speaker 1: Years after the war, veterans gathered in bars, VFW halls
Speaker 1: and reunions. The topic always came up. Eventually, someone would
Speaker 1: goli glants over their shoulder, lower their voice, and say,
Speaker 1: you remember those damn rock apes, and every man who'd
Speaker 1: been there, truly been there, would nod slowly, eyes distant.
Speaker 1: Some swore the creatures were relic commends. Others believed they
Speaker 1: were undiscovered primates. Some thought they were something in between.
Speaker 1: Most simply said they were real. I don't care what
Speaker 1: anyone says. In Vietnam, the jungle hides things. Even today,
Speaker 1: the locals still whisper about Nui Kua Nui Zung, the
Speaker 1: Hill of the forest People. But on one fog drenched
Speaker 1: ridge in nineteen sixty eight, that hill, with those forest people,
Speaker 1: they didn't hide. They fought. The Marines who survived that
Speaker 1: night carried the memory forever. The night the creatures stepped
Speaker 1: from myth into reality, roaring from the shadows and hurling
Speaker 1: stones with the strength of ten men. The night the
Speaker 1: Marines of three five fought a battle they were never
Speaker 1: allowed to report. The rock Ape Boar of sixty eight,
Speaker 1: Hill Ate sixty eight never gave up its secrets, not
Speaker 1: to the scientists, not to the brass, and certainly not
Speaker 1: to the men who tried to leave it behind. Long
Speaker 1: after the war ended, the jungle reclaimed the ridge, vines
Speaker 1: swallowed the foxholes, moss blanketed the boulders, and the fog
Speaker 1: rolled in just as thick as it did in sixty eight.
Speaker 1: Locals still avoid that place, and those who live near
Speaker 1: it say the nights are never truly quiet. Every so
Speaker 1: often a hiker reports strange echoes, heavy footsteps where no
Speaker 1: trail exists, or the crack of a rock hitting stone
Speaker 1: in the dark. Some say it's just the jungle playing tricks.
Speaker 1: Others believe the forest people still guard that hill, just
Speaker 1: as they did the night those marines crossed the wrong boundary.
Speaker 1: Whatever the truth is, the men who survived carried one
Speaker 1: certainty home with them. Something was there, something powerful, something alive,
Speaker 1: and the jungle has never been quick to forget. Here
Speaker 1: we are again, at the end of another journey through
Speaker 1: the strange and the unexplained. To Day's dive into the
Speaker 1: rock apes of Hill eight sixty eight reminds us that
Speaker 1: some mysteries don't fade with time. They just wait for
Speaker 1: the right story teller, Thanks so much for spending part
Speaker 1: of your day or night here at Bigfoot's wilderness. If
Speaker 1: you enjoyed this episode, be sure to check out my
Speaker 1: friend Dave over at We're Bigfoot Roams. He's got some
Speaker 1: great stories worth your time. Until next time, keep your
Speaker 1: eyes open, your mind curious, and wanders safely. He