Chapter 6

THE SIEGE

 

The next morning, two big Chinook choppers came in early - it was just daylight, when the thud of their rotors grew closer and closer. They were bringing in some much-needed supplies, and we all helped to get them unloaded. I got a new med kit, thank God! We also unloaded two new 81mm mortars and ammo - Green and a few guys were qualified with them, so we set them up to cover the hill.

As I looked around, I could now see the reason why this hill was so important. It was protected at the rear, by a sheer drop, to the valley below, and there was just a narrow finger of land on one side, maybe twenty-five yards wide, which extended out at least one-hundred yards - the view from it was for miles around. The only way to take the hill was from the front or the sides; we had a clear field of fire for at least a thousand yards. I later found out that the bunkers and tunnels were, in fact, a V.C. command center and hospital.

More choppers arrived during the day, with supplies and two replacements. The Marines had two drops: one for supplies, the other a fresh platoon, bursting with weaponry, which included mortars. The platoon included a team of “tunnel rats”: troops specially trained and equipped to check the bunkers and tunnels. Our team spent the day cleaning weapons and resting up.

Sarge came over and picked up my M-16 rifle: “Well, Doc, I can see your buddy Green has taught you well.”

Green smiled: “Thanks, Sarge. He learned in no time; I’m sure glad I volunteered to help him out.”

Sarge handed me my rifle, as I added: “It didn’t take long because I had such an experienced volunteer.”

We started laughing and joking around, and it was good to see Sarge smile. We talked for a while about the mission: our orders to stay at the hill, with the Marines, until further notice. Sarge told us that he felt we might be in for another fight, if Charlie wanted the hill back. I didn’t like the idea of another battle, but we may not have had a choice. Before long, it was my turn on lookout duty, so I left Sarge and Green with the new guys, whom they were giving a good education about Vietnam.

I looked around and set myself up on the finger of the hill. The sky was clear for late afternoon, with very little humidity, and a light breeze swept up from the valley below. I started sweeping with the field glasses every ten minutes or so. I had a great view: from this height, I could see out over the lush, green fields, glowing in the sunlight. This land did have beauty to it at times.

My time was about up, when I saw movement, way out on the plain below. I kept watching with my field glasses, until I could just make out tiny figures, some wearing the familiar black pajamas of the V.C., and carrying what appeared to be weapons. They were moving on what looked like a trail.

I called in: “Bravo, this is R-Team, I have movements in sector four. Do we have any friendly coming? Copy.”

“Roger, R-Team. Bravo is negative for sector four. Please advise.”

I gave Bravo the map grid coordinates, wind-speed and direction, then let Red Dog know about the coming Air Cavalry assault.

It couldn’t have been five minutes before we heard the choppers coming. Just to the west side of the hill, a formation of six Cobra attack choppers roared over and headed for the valley.

A small scout plane - (Forward Air Control) - flew by, low and slow - no doubt checking locations on the V.C. The enemy troops below us started firing at it and it accelerated up and out of the area.

Green and some of the men came over to the finger, for a front-row seat. Green grabbed the field glasses.

“Damn, Doc! There must be a hundred of them out there.”

We could see the column of figures start scrambling around, firing their weapons, until the big gunships came in fast and unleashed their firepower: rockets, grenades and cannon fire. We watched as the plain below erupted in flames and smoke. The ground on the hill shook, as the shockwaves swept over the plain, when the heavy firepower slammed into the V.C. Most of them were caught in the open; not many V.C. made it to the safety of the jungle. 

From our view of the plain below, we could see it all unfold. Green jumped to his feet, his eyes wide with excitement; “Wow! That’s some kinda fireworks!”

Everyone was cheering, as the gunships finished their business and flew out over our hill.

The troops were in good spirits, now, but it was inevitable that Charlie was going to come at us, sooner or later.

 

*

 

The next night, I was on watch with Corporal Green, in the blown-out V.C. bunker. We scanned the area with our sniper rifle: a fine, old Winchester Model 70, fitted with a large custom rifle scope. From our position, we could see out past the base of the hill, into the rice fields.

We followed the same routine on watch: scanning the fields below, looking for sappers. These dudes would try to get into our perimeter, in spite of the razor wire, trip flares and Claymores; they have often been known to somehow find a way in, undetected. It would be bad news to have them inside the perimeter.

Green handed me the field glasses. “You know, Doc, I never told you, but I seen them sappers one time. I was at Firebase 1, in the Delta. We was set up pretty good, had wire and Claymores all around, and days had gone by, with nothing going on – except the big 105 artillery guns going off now and then, when a fire mission was called in. One night, I was on guard duty and I almost fell asleep, when the first explosion snapped me awake. I looked around and there they were: three of them sappers, running inside our perimeter. By the time I managed to shoot me one of them, the other two ran into the command bunkers, taking out the officers inside. They had wired themselves with satchel charges and C-4; the other guards on duty didn’t even fire a shot. It was terrible to see those poor guys all blown up. We lost some good men that night.”

I could see that Green was becoming upset: his face drew in, and the familiar smile was gone. He had a blank look in his eyes, as he continued: “Doc, if only I’d stayed more alert… I never thought them V.C. could get through the wire. I let my guard down and Charlie slipped on in. For a time afterward, I wished they had blown me up, too.”

As Green finished, I could only imagine how he felt. I replied: “At least you stopped one of those sappers. You’re only human; you did the best you could. Listen, man: we all make mistakes. Think about it, Green: you weren’t the only one out there on duty; if the other guards had fired, maybe none of them sappers would have broken through.”

Green’s face lightened a little. “Why, thanks, Doc: I never thought of it that way before. It sure helps to have a friend to talk to.”

“You got that right, my man,” I replied.

We continued to scan the perimeter.

Looking out into the shadows of the night was scary. The fear came when Charlie could move or hide in the mask of darkness. In this war, I was learning to expect the unexpected. 

I checked to make sure the Claymore detonator was armed and ready. Using those deadly mines was a big help. They were made of C-4 explosive, with hundreds of steel balls embedded within, set to fire electrically or by trip-wire; one Claymore could take out a dozen or more V.C. They were placed around the outer perimeter; we never left home without them.

The night dragged on, slowly, while Green and I took turns dozing off for a nap, now and then. 

After waking me up again, he suddenly asked: “So, Doc, do you think we’re goin’ to win this war?”

I had to think for a moment, before I replied: “One thing I know is that we can win. Think about it, man: we kicked their butts plenty of times already.”

Green smiled; “Yeah, Doc, I think we can win. But, the question is will we win the war?”

“I’m not sure,” I conceded. “When you really think about it, whether or not we win isn’t up to you and me, or even the Army: it is the South Vietnamese people; they have to want their freedom enough to keep the North Vietnamese from taking it from them.”

Green smiled. “That’s a good way of putting it, Doc. Problem is, I’ve been here longer than you, and I still don’t know if they can do it.”

When we stopped discoursing, Green took his nap and I started scanning the area. It was a nice moonlit night and the scope was working well, as I kept a keen eye out for movement.

And, there he was.

This sapper was very good; moving very slowly in our direction, from about one-hundred yards out, he could have been part of the scenery.

I tapped Green, and he jolted awake. “We got some company coming,” I said.

Green and I watched him for hours. When he got to about fifty yards, I called in: “Red Dog, R-Team has one Victor Charlie at sector four. Request permission to respond. Copy.”

Red Dog replied: “Roger that: Red Dog is go, for response in five; we will go to alert at your sector.”

I heard more of our troops moving closer to the perimeter wires, and I finally had my chance to take this sapper out - I just needed to wait for him to get in a good position. 

With the big rifle snug against my cheek, I set my body still. The crosshairs were in just the right place, as I slowly squeezed the trigger. The big gun jumped against my shoulder, and the sound of the blast filled the silent night; I got him square in the chest. He went down, and was not moving.

Green whispered, as he looked through the rifle-scope: “I think you got him, my man.”

Suddenly, there were shots from the perimeter: more sappers, trying to get in.

I moved around the bunker, looking for any movement in our direction, and wondering if it could be the start of an attack. I noticed that my hands were starting to tremble again.

The firing started to slow down some. I kept looking out along the wire, but could not see any enemy movement at all. I waited a while, and the firing stopped.

Green said: “Doc, we best wait before we go see if you got that sapper.”

“You got that right,” I replied: “who knows how many there could be out there?”

Green nodded: “That’s right, Doc. And, we ain’t going to find out, either.”

We called in to Bravo, and Sarge said to stay put for the rest of the night; everyone would wait until dawn, before going out to take a look at the perimeter.

After that, Green and I took turns on watch. I tried to sleep, but only managed to doze on and off. Before we knew it, the big, red sun was slowly coming up over the horizon. Green and I did a radio check, and gathered our gear.

As we were walking back to base, Green said: “You look mighty tired. You okay, Doc? Let’s get us some grub.”

I was too nervous to sleep. I replied: “Night-time in the ‘Nam gives me the creeps, man.”

Right after chow we went out and found them: three sappers in all, each loaded with C-4 satchel charges - one of them wore an N.V.A. uniform.  Charlie was trying to make a big impression on us.

No doubt they would be coming soon, and everyone busied, getting ready. Sarge had extra wire and more Claymores set up around the perimeter: we wanted to give them the welcome they deserved.

The morning was cool and clear, when Sarge came over and joined Green and I for some coffee.

“Well, at least we got good weather for Air Cav. support,” he said. “I don’t think Charlie is going to risk hitting us, but he just might, since we think he won’t.”

Green smiled. “Sarge, it’s too nice of a day for fightin’. Besides, after they saw the way Doc here can shoot, they probably all ran for their lives.”

I could see Sarge was amused, and I added: “That’s right, Sarge; they’re probably in Cambodia by now.”

Sarge smiled: “That’s right, guys. Maybe I should keep you two on night-watch all the time.”

The big smile disappeared from Green’s face for a moment, before Sarge started laughing.

Green was right, though: it was a nice morning - warm, without too much humidity in the air. Some of the Marines were playing cards, reading mail or just lying around in the sun, listening to music. We took a walk together, around the perimeter.

The Marine lieutenant spotted us and came over. “Sergeant Jakes, we need to go over the perimeter defense plan. Can you join me for a few minutes?”

Before leaving, Sarge told us: “Make sure you tell everyone to double up on their ammo and check all their gear. It might also be a good idea to grab some sleep: it could be a long night. That N.V.A. soldier we killed may have a battalion of buddies out there - I don’t want us caught with our pants down on this one. I’m going to suggest that the lieutenant advises his men to do the same.”

As we started walking again, I said to Green: “You know, Sarge has always been right so far. Like you said, he knows this war.”

Green smiled, “Amen to that, brother. He is the man.”

We headed back to our location on the hill and called the men in for a quick meeting - it wasn’t too hard, since most of them were gathered around, playing cards or eating. Green told everyone to double up on the ammo and check all their gear. Afterward, feeling very tired, I went to catch some sleep.

The battle started sometime that afternoon; the first mortar rounds snapped me out of my nap.

My adrenalin was pumping, as everyone scurried around, grabbing their gear and getting into position. We dug in, as the N.V.A. started to hit us with more of their mortars, the shells bursting all around and inside our perimeter.

Sarge called in an air strike, letting them know the direction the mortar fire was coming from. The Phantom jets flew in low, drawing what sounded like enemy fire. This was Charlie’s misfortune, for now the Phantoms had a lock on his position. The mighty jets banked into a wide turn and accelerated for the attack, launching several strikes, using napalm and rockets.

The ground shook, as the shockwave of the blasts blew past us. Great plumes of black smoke and bright, orange flames filled the sky, from the napalm, and I could see the long, white-smoke tails of the streaking rockets, as they slammed into the tree line and exploded. I was alone in my hole, watching the jets, as again they came thundering down from above, like a bolt of lightning – then, the thunder!

I sat there in awe, unable to move, as that creepy feeling overcame me again. My hands were shaking, as I prayed for the strength to fight my fear. I thanked God that the jets were on our side.

Our mortar crews got busy, tracing their mortar rounds down the hill and into the flames of napalm.

Suddenly, with a loud boom, an incoming V.C. mortar round hit one of the Marine bunkers. Then, more incoming rounds hit our perimeter. Everyone dug in for their lives.

I couldn’t believe it: some of the V.C. mortars were still intact, even after the jet attack. I could see that some of our troops were down, screaming for medic, and I started slowly crawling toward them.

The next memory I had was of being launched off of the ground, and my helmet and rifle hurdling through the air. Then, I lay there, my face in the dirt; I couldn’t hear a thing. 

It took a while before I realized I hadn’t been hit directly, but a mortar had exploded close to me. I slowly regained my senses and forced myself to get up, my ears ringing as I tried to move. I found my helmet and rifle.

By the time I made my way to the wounded, one of the men was already gone. The others had shrapnel wounds, and I could hear them screaming for help. A Marine medic came over to help me, and we gave the men shots of morphine, applying pressure bandages. Then, we moved them next to one of the bunkers.

Those troops who were still in the blown out bunker had never stood a chance. When I went inside, I saw blood everywhere. One had his hands clamped on his rifle; he looked like he was sleeping but, when I moved closer, I could feel no pulse. Another man had his eyes open, as if he was sitting there, staring at me - when I moved closer, I could see that the bottom half of his body was gone.

My stomach started churning as I rushed to get the hell away. Once outside, I threw up. It was so horrible! I sat there, shaking, and it took a moment to gather myself. I needed to go see how Sarge and Green were doing.

The mortar rounds finally stopped; the air strike was over. I thought it must have hit the V.C. good and hard, but somehow they had recovered and attacked with their mortars. Now they must have slipped back into the jungle. I wondered if they would be back that night.

I found Green, talking with Sarge. Green asked me: “You okay, Doc?”

“Yeah. It’s good to see you guys are okay. I almost bought it from one of those damn mortars.”

Sarge added: “It’s good to see you, Doc. We need your help with the wounded.”

Everyone was busy, getting things back in order. It took some time to get the wounded stabilized and get them a medevac.

 

*

 

I was talking with Green, as the day was changing to night. ‘Nam was a bad place to be in the darkness; the strange sounds and growing shadows felt so creepy.

Green grabbed my arm. “Doc, you okay?” he asked. “Listen, brother: you just keep your head on straight and your powder dry.”

“I’ll be okay,” I replied. “I just don’t like the night. Sometimes, I feel like I’m alone; the darkness closes in on me. Sometimes I pray - it does help me calm down.”

Green smiled, “You know, Doc, the night out here don’t sit well with me, either: you never know if Charlie is out there, sneakin’ around. Sometimes, I think about the nights back home. When I was a little boy, my dad and I would walk along the fields, in the evening, looking at the stars. I remember that the smell of the crops would fill the air. The night was so nice and peaceful.”

I replied: “I wouldn’t worry if I were you: the Viet Cong like to shoot you big, black dudes, but they can’t see you as good as a white man at night.”

Green started laughing, as he gripped me in his bear hug. It felt good to laugh, if only for a while.

The next attack came late in the night, hitting us all along the perimeter, with mortar fire and RPG’s.

A wave of N.V.A. and V.C. started for the hill, tripping our flares and Claymores, as they tried to cut their way through the wire.

Green and I were in one of the small, sandbagged trenches, which lined the perimeter. I looked over at him; “Here we go again!”

I could see the tense look in his eyes. “When are we gonna get a break, Doc?”

From our position, we could see the front of the hillside and the fields below it. Despite devastating losses, they kept coming at us, and we just kept firing our weapons and reloading. My gun barrel was smoking hot, as the empty bullet casings littered the ground, nearby. 

The machine-gun tracer bullets streaked down into the advancing enemy, as they struggled to get through the wire, whilst Green and I kept firing and firing at the enemy, until they finally started to pull back.

Before long, another wave of V.C. attacked. What a scene!

It is hard to describe a night battle: a full-blown firefight at night, with our red tracers flashing down across the wire, and the enemy’s green tracers flying about, everywhere; the sights and the sounds of over two-hundred of our troops, shooting down the hill; the rockets, trip flares and mortar rounds, lighting up the sky like the Fourth of July! It got my adrenaline pumping; it was both exhilarating and frightening. My hands were shaking, as I fired wildly into the advancing enemy.

After a while, the firing finally slowed down some.

Sarge called out: “Cease fire! Hold your fire!”

“Doc, I’m out of ammo,” Green said. “Sit tight; I’ll go get us some.” As the shooting briefly stopped, he started crawling his way to the ammo bunker.

But, Charlie just kept attacking; there seemed no end to it! 

I made my way to some of the wounded troops. I don’t know how I made it; the good Lord was truly on my side. The platoon lost eight men to mortar and rocket fire, including one of the replacements - he died in my arms, as I was trying to patch him up; a sapper who got through the wire shot him. They must have fired on each other at the same time, because the sapper was now lying dead, caught up in the inside wire.

At first, I thought our guy was going to make it, but I guess there was just too much damage. He kept saying: “Doc, is it bad? Give me a shot, Doc.”

“Okay, just try to stay still,” I told him. “We’re going to get you to the hospital.” I had already given him the shot, and now he started drifting off on me. His pulse was weak and he was hardly breathing, so I tried to talk to him, as I applied C.P.R: “Stay awake, soldier; listen to me, soldier.”

Despite my attempts to revive him, I realized that his breathing had stopped; there was no pulse at all. I tried C.P.R. again and again, but it was hopeless.

After he was gone, I sat there, exhausted, with sweat pouring down my face, and stared at the young man. A strange feeling overcame me, hard to describe: as if his spirit was drifting away. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the last time.

My bloody hands were trembling, as I tried to clean them up, and it took a few minutes to gather myself. I finally said a prayer for him and grabbed my gear.

We were not alone in our fight: the  Marines had it worse; they lost some good soldiers that night. The bunker which was hit was full of troops, including Captain Lena.

If there was one thing I’d learned about men in combat, it’s that when they see their comrades wounded and dying on the battlefield, it makes them fight even harder. I know; I felt it, too: the fear and anger. I saw that look of deadly determination in the eyes of those fighting beside me.

I was on my way to see if Green had made it back to our position with the ammo, when a Marine sergeant walked by me. He seemed angry, and was talking to himself, as he carried a fallen comrade in his arms: the dead Marine I had just tried to save. I said something to him, but he just gave me a fierce look and continued.

We were drawing some incoming fire again, the tracers flashing across the hillside. I started crawling, and found Green, waiting at our position.

“Damn, Doc, where you been, man?” he said. “You best not go a-wandering around.”

“Well, big guy, I’m glad to see that you’re okay, too,” I replied, as I loaded my rifle.

I could see movement: someone coming up from behind us. It was the same angry Marine sergeant, now carrying straps of ammo and an M-60 in his arms, as he ran toward the outer perimeter of the wire. Incoming fire increased, as the V.C. saw him approaching, firing wildly down the hill. We could see more movement in the field below, as everyone started firing. I was hoping it would draw the V.C. away from him, but the incoming fire increased, as Charlie tried to get to him.

Sarge came crawling over. “What the hell is that Marine doing out there?” he said. “Cover me – I’m gonna try to sneak out there, before he gets killed.”

The Marine kept firing, only stopping now and then to reload or throw a grenade. It was a miracle he wasn’t killed, as the tracer bullets flashed and streaked all around him. He just stood there, at the very edge of the perimeter, shooting until his ammo ran out. I could see Sarge reach him, when the Marine turned around and started to run back, passing him, toward the Marine position.

Sarge called out on the radio: “Red Dog, check your fire. Check your fire.”

The firing started to slow down, then finally stopped, as the enemy retreated. 

I turned to Green: “Man, did you see that dude!? He must have killed a whole platoon of NVA”

“Yeah, Doc, I seen it,” he replied. “He must be crazy, or the bravest man I ever seen!”

Sarge came over. “Let’s go get some chow. I need to find out what’s going on with that guy.”

“I think he lost it, Sarge,” I replied. “I saw him when he found his dead buddy. I’d already tried to save the guy, but he was hit bad.”

Sarge put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Doc. For now, let’s get back on top of this damn hill.”

Sarge and the Marines gathered troops to reinforce the perimeter and reset Claymores along the wire.

That night, we all stayed out at our positions, along the perimeter. I tried to get some sleep, but I kept thinking about the sappers.

*

 

The last assault started before sunrise.

A trip flare flashed into the sky and a Claymore exploded. Green and I couldn’t see much, except the fluttering light of the flare, as it slowly descended. Then, the enemy. Mortar fire started slamming into the perimeter again.

Everyone opened fire, as a wave of N.V.A. ran from the field, toward the wire. Trip flares filled the sky and more Claymores exploded, but the N.V.A. kept coming. I fired one clip after another into them, and an R.P.G. went streaking right over us. We kept firing until what was left of them withdrew back into the field, below. The firing slowed, then all was quiet.

I sat there for a while, trying to calm down. My hands were shaking again.

Suddenly, we heard gunshots - they seemed to be coming from inside the perimeter.  Then, more shooting, from the Marines’ side of the hill. I told Green to stay put, as I started crawling my way toward that area.

I was getting closer, when movement to the right caught my eye: a handful of NVA. were running toward a Marine bunker. I lined one of them up in my sights, and… click! My M-16 was out of ammo! In the excitement, I had forgotten to get more clips! I continued to crawl toward them, as a Marine stood up and fired. 

At the same moment, a V.C. threw his grenade - it landed right in their bunker. The explosion shook the ground, and the men were suddenly screaming. 

I was filled with anger; I desperately wanted another chance to kill that damned V.C.! I took out my handgun, as I continued crawling to help the wounded.

Once there, I looked inside the bunker. It was awful; they were all dead.

Suddenly, I saw movement behind the bunker, and I raised my handgun and started firing, as the VC started to run. He went down, screaming, and I continued shooting him, until the gun was empty.

I took his weapon and ammo, then I crawled into position, with the Marines.

Sarge had sent more troops, to help defend the Marines’ side of the hill: we couldn’t let them get a hold inside the perimeter. I was caught up in the fight for survival. Like a machine on automatic, I moved and killed one after another.

A mortar round landed close by, and the shockwave of the blast slammed me hard. I lay there for a while, trying to regain my senses, and my ears were ringing, but luckily I was not hit.

Finally, the incoming mortar fire let up, though the tracers were still flashing back and forth. It took a while, but eventually the firefight started winding down, too.

Sarge came over. “Doc, I think the N.V.A. are withdrawing; it will be light soon. Are you alright?”

“I think so Sarge,” I replied, “but my ears are ringing again.”

“Okay, Doc, just sit tight until we get some light,” he said, “then, go see if the Marines need help with their wounded. I’m going to check on the platoon.”

There were finally just a few sporadic shots, now and then, as dawn broke over the fields.

I lay there, totally exhausted, praying until it was fully daylight.

*

 

I awoke to the sound of Green’s voice: “Doc, you okay? It sure was something last night! Sarge wants us to check the perimeter for any wounded.”

“Okay, man. I must have passed out,” I replied. “I see you made it, too.”

Slowly, we wandered the battleground. It was a shocking sight, with no signs of life, anywhere. There were dead V.C. hanging in the wire; the blood-soaked soil; bodies and pieces of bodies, of our men - it was truly terrible! These were my comrades, and I will never forget the scene. Shell casings were everywhere, amongst the dead soldiers - theirs and ours - lying about. There was a smoky haze drifting in the air, filled with the smell of burnt gunpowder and napalm - the unique smell of death on the battlefield. One dead Marine lay there, still clutching his knife, with the bodies of several dead V.C. lying about him - a brave soldier, who fought to the very end.

It was all too much for me. I felt so weak, my stomach started churning; I had to run away and throw up. Green didn’t look too good, either, as he came over to me.

“Go ahead, Doc: go help our guys that are still alive,” he said; “I can finish this damn job, myself.”

Dazed and shaken, I slowly found my way up the hill, where Sarge was waiting for me.

“Doc, the wounded are in that bunker,” he said, then added: “You look as bad as I feel. Here, drink some water. You got any more medical supplies?”

I didn’t realize how thirsty I was, until I drained his canteen. “Thanks, Sarge,” I replied. “There may be supplies in one of the bunkers.”

I started working with the other medics. Some of the wounded were in bad shape, but we didn’t have enough morphine and bandages. One had a bullet wound in his knee, and was screaming with pain - the only thing I could find to give him was some aspirin; I wrapped his knee with pieces cut from a towel. It took two of us to hold him still, as he kept screaming about the pain. I felt helpless; I had to do something for him. Desperately, I grabbed an empty morphine ampoule and made like I was giving him a shot - I was genuinely surprised when the soldier started to quiet down. It helped him feel better - that was all that mattered to me.

Afterward, I remember just sitting there, feeling so exhausted, in my uniform soaked with blood and sweat. I did my best for them, but it wasn’t good enough: I should have had more supplies. Maybe I could have saved some of them, but the Marines had run out of supplies, too. I felt empty - completely spent. I was never so glad to see the medevacs swooping into an L.Z. 

Thank God it was over, for now. I struggled to find the energy to get up and move. I had to get myself cleaned up, then desperately needed some rest.

A few more choppers came in during the day - I heard them over my buddy Green snoring away, as I dozed on and off, in one of the bunkers.

The big, red sun was low on the horizon, when we all gathered for some chow, and there was a meeting called afterward.

I could see we had some new troops, and a group of officers were talking to Sarge - one of them was a general. He wore his field uniform and had a bright, gold star on his hat. As he walked around, shaking hands and talking to the troops, he praised us for our great victory. Then, he stood before us and went over the details of the battle. Sure, we had won, but we had paid a high price: our platoon suffered nineteen K.I.A. and twelve wounded - three were critical; the Marines had many more.

I sat there as he talked, and prayed quietly to myself. I asked for the Lord’s help, and wondered if any of us would ever be the same again, after the war.

When, dear Lord? Please help us! When is all the bloodshed and killing going to end?

I prayed for forgiveness and the lost men, hoping their sacrifice would not be forgotten. 

Charlie suffered heavy losses: the count was 392 N.V.A. and V.C. forces K.I.A., and twenty-seven wounded prisoners. The general said we could figure at least five-hundred K.I.A., though, as the V.C. were known to take as many dead and wounded as possible with them, in their retreat.

But, the really good news was that we were getting off of this hill by the following day; the Marine reinforcements were finally on their way.

After the meeting, everyone cleaned their weapons and gathered up their gear. I put my blanket down in the shade and collapsed in total exhaustion.

 

*

 

When I awoke from a deep sleep, it was because Green was tapping me on the shoulder: “Hey, man, get up! We gettin’ outta here, boy. So, let’s get us some chow.”

Half asleep, I followed Green to the mess area - the cool, morning air felt good. Most of the guys were already up and eating chow, and we got us some coffee. Army coffee is not the roasted, ground, smell- and taste-good coffee most of us like; we got powdered instant.

I could hear that familiar thud in the distance, slowly growing louder: the choppers were coming! I was so glad to be getting off of this damned hill.

There was lots of movement about the place, as the choppers swooped down onto the L.Z., and a fresh platoon of reinforcements and supplies piled out. Some of the troops were out on the perimeter, carrying body bags and piling up the dead N.V.A. and V.C., by the wire.

After chow, Green and I got busy, cleaning up our gear and helping out, wherever we could. Sarge came over.

“Our ride out has been delayed until tomorrow morning,” he said, as he handed us each a six-pack of Bud. “You guys take it easy; rest up.”

I could see the disappointment on Green’s face, so I immediately cracked open two beers: “Here’s to tomorrow, my man.”

He smiled; “Thank God for tomorrow.”

The sun was shining brightly, over the fields below. I found it odd, but Vietnam did at times appear peaceful and calm, and it wasn’t hard to imagine a different time and place: no war; only the lush, green foliage, glowing in the sunlight.

Later in the day we went on a short ride, to a village which needed medical assistance, escorted by several armed Marines. A Marine medic sat by me and we introduced ourselves - his name was Samuel – chatting all the way, in the back of the Red Cross truck, as we made our way along the bumpy trail.

When we arrived at the village, we were shocked by the conditions: the thatch buildings were moldy and in disrepair; the children looked hungry, their clothes dirty. But, they were happy to see us, and they came over and watched us unloading supplies. The village people gathered around, as Sam and I handed out bottles of water and food rations, until we had no more.

One of the villagers, who spoke broken English, came over and escorted us to a large, thatch building with a metal roof - we set up the medical supplies inside.

We treated a variety of injuries. Some of the kids had splinters and cuts, which were infected, and one of the farmers had a serious infection, on the bottom of his foot. I lanced it open and cleaned it out with disinfectant, then I gave him a shot of penicillin and wrapped the wound in bandages. We handed out a variety of medical supplies to the elders, to use as needed.

Sam came over, as I was cleaning up. “Listen up, Rob: I think one of those villagers is a V.C. I treated him for gunshot wounds.”

“That’s okay, Sam; I found myself in the same situation, one time. I hope they would do the same for us. We did some good for the people here today.”

Sam smiled; “You’re right, Rob: we did some good.”

Then, we all packed into the truck and got ready to head back to camp, before dark, the people of the village smiling and waving as we left. I felt tired, but happy, as I watched their smiling faces.

We arrived back at base, just as the sun was setting on the horizon. I grabbed my gear and headed back to my unit for some chow, hoping there was at least one beer left!