THE TWENTY-NINTH DAY, 30 Days Has September
I lay in the muck of oozing mud seeping slowly up through the packed, cracked, and broken debris of jungle and aging decay. The smell was of the damaged sort I’d come to know as my home away from home down inside the A Shau Valley expanse. I wondered if the smell...
TWENTY-EIGHTH NIGHT, THIRD PART, 30 Days Has September
Whole Man and his A-6 Intruder were gone, and the jungle below was silent, as well as the drums mounted on what was left of the upper lip of the cliff. The lack of the mind-numbing drumbeats was balanced by the emptiness I felt over losing what air support we’d had...
THE TWENTY-EIGHTH NIGHT, SECOND PART, 30 Days Has September
I slipped McInerney’s flashlight into my right side pocket, its end sticking out a bit and rapping back and forth against the hard leather of my Colt .45 holster. “Fusner,” I whispered, turning back toward the foxhole I’d left, but making no move to retreat...Subscribe to FROM THE WILDERNESS
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