I scrambled, slid and crabbed my way through the low growing debris spread like small islands of living flora all over the mud flat I was trapped on. The NVA gunners had opened up high or were trying to take out the Ontos instead of shooting at a few scavengers trying to reclaim dead bodies and riddled supply boxes and tins. I couldn’t see in the miserably low light because, what the lack of light didn’t hide, the everlasting misting rain made so invisible that nothing of substance or real form could be distinguished. I moved laterally, turning away from the NVA filled jungle down the river and directly away from the river itself. The river’s presence ruled everything because it was a given in the night. The noise of the rushing water could be heard over all else. With the Bong Song at my back, I did what I did best under fire, I tried to get away before the enemy got around to cleaning the mud flat of all living things. I’d taken one quick look over my shoulder to see if the fire was directed at Sugar Daddy’s strung out platoon, but there’d been nothing to see in the blackness, which was good for the members of that platoon. But those of us down in the supply area were in a previously registered position, and it wouldn’t take the NVA long to go back to playing cleanup, with our lives being what were going to be cleaned up.

I found a spider hole. I hadn’t prayed to find one, but I murmured “thank God” when my hands plunged over the front edge of the hole. There was no hesitation on my part. I didn’t care what was in the hole, I plunged forward and then dove over the lip head first. The hole was big. Bigger than I would have imagined. My body had time to flip over as I fell, which was a good thing because I landed in a pool of water at least a foot deep, with a foot of sucking mud right at the bottom of it.

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