The Ontos sat on the bridge, it’s dull presence barely visible across the distance, through the murk of the rainy night, with only the slight radiance of a full moon shining on clouds unseen above. I waited, as the battlefield in front of me across the fore drop of the river remained quiet. The .50 had not opened up again, and small arms fire had become non-existent. Dobbs peered through the Starlight Scope, the device now mounted atop his M-16, which was set to selective semi-automatic fire in order to shoot the first NVA soldier injudicious enough to attempt to cross the bridge. Captain Carruthers waited for me to transmit the order for Kilo to begin making the crossing.

“Now,” I said into the microphone Fusner placed in my waiting hand.

“Make sure you can tell the difference between our Marines and the NVA in this atmospheric crap,” I said to Dobbs, hunched over next to me.