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...
TWENTY-EIGHTH NIGHT, 30 Days Has September
The six of us moved on our bellies, out toward the jumbled remains in the killing field of the mud flat, as one, without any signal. The ability of Marines in combat to need a whole lot less signals and orders than the guys doing all the training back home thought...
TWENTY-SEVENTH NIGHT, SECOND PART, 30 Days Has September
The M-60s had opened up from in front of me, but I could not estimate the distance or the true direction the machine guns might be firing from, what with the sound of the nearby rushing river water and the incessant beat of the rain down upon my helmet. I knew all the...
THE TWENTY-SEVENTH NIGHT, 30 Days Has September
Wet muddy foxholes rapidly became repositories for almost everything the combat company Marines usually carried on their backs. There was nothing to effectively hide or cover the holes with when they were abandoned, as they’d been there so long that both sides of the...Go Fund Me Campaign
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