I went to work on my stuff, just outside the exposed rock area where the choppers had come in. The area wasn’t that large, having hardly the footprint of an average small home back in the real world.
The shelf running just down from, and alongside the top of, the mountain’s descending ridge eventually played out. The company once more trudged through the jungle under a barely seen double canopy of heavy brush
I waited, my body spread face down and flat on the jungle floor. It would have been a time of rest and relaxation if an attack by unknown numbers of wily, capable and well-armed opponents weren’t also waiting somewhere out in the night.
The West Pointer Captain Mertz’s plan to stay waiting for resupply, and take credit for the kills and any wounded NVA left behind, made logical sense. I knew that neither I, nor any of the Marines in the company, gave a tinker’s damn about who got credited for anything.