An eagle eyed private had spotted the sneaking bastards and their rpg, no doubt looking for an angle on the M-48s.

Reagin, took a squad and peeled off, hugging the slope, staying low, M-16’s gripped by the handle in a tight combat wedge, an inverted V racing to cut off the enemy.

As they rounded the curve and broke into exposed and deadly open ground, shots from the VC peppered the team.

Heedless they ran on, the wedge widening, men fired from the hip, on the run, more to frighten than to kill. Then they were among the VC, who had stood their ground. Rifle butts and bullets ended the melee before it had begun.

They stood swirled around 360 wary, breathless and wild eyed. Their blood was up, adrenaline pumping.

Reagin spoke calmly. “Ok Marines, good work, tag them, and grab that rpg. Form a skirmish line, there might be more of the bastards here somewhere. “