Yeah, that’s me. Fresh faced pretty boy. The best uniforms that money could buy and a bad ass flak jacket to boot. All courtesy of my Father. The Marine, the legend. Which in the end is why, I’m here sweating my ass off in the 173rd, in the jungle, with all its inherent disadvantages. But free from the spectre of being the son of ‘that guy’ the hero, oh, and alcoholic wife beating assehole. Sure.
Me. I earned these butter bars. No preferences, no favours. But someone who knows the whole story shared my ‘connections’. So I am the ‘point’ the appointed soft service prick who will get guys killed. Super. Daddy’s little boy.
Which is why instead of leading or sharing the lead up the hill, I’m in reserve, with a lot of men who look at me sideways.
For the fourth time on this watch of the trail, an NCO has either politely told me to STFU or ignored me. ‘Listen Lt, aint no VC around here, they all up the hill chewing Platoon 1 & 2 to bits. Be happy to be back here.
So when the crazy ass VC come racing across the trail firing up a storm of lead, every one is taken by surprise.
Immediately two men near me took fatal hits. I radioed in an update, and then tried to work out WTH was really going on, the fire volume is insane.
MG’s and AK tracers tore the jungle to bits. They close with us fast. Knowing I would call in arty just as soon as I had a bead on them. Next thing I know we are arse and elbows deep as Senior Sarge would say in VC. We are firing fast. Dropping back, and tightening up off the trail. I full auto two bad guys, and lock. While two more come charging at me. No time to mag swap, so I pull my side arm and blast away. More judiciously this time. Good shooting kid, I hear from behind me, as I grab my M16 and swap a mag out and chamber. The adrenaline is pumping, my hands are shaking I take a knee and check what is going on. ‘Sarge we need to push these bastards back.’ ‘First smart thing you said all day sir. 1st Squad on me,’ he roars, turns and looks at me and says. ‘Kid I mean sir, you get them other boys putting a base o’ fire down, let us handle this.’ Then he is gone.
The Sarge and his boys true to word clear out the enemy while we hunker down and provide some fire support and handle more VC who seem to be coming from all directions!
The boys on the ’60 are sending pure hate, running through belts.
I race over to one of the dead troops and drag a belt off of him and race to the gunner. ‘Here keep it up boys.’ They look a bit surprised, but grunt in acknowledgement. There is fire coming from 3 directions, about 30 enemy have us pinned. Despite our efforts. I really need Sarge and his boys to flank, before we go black on ammo. ‘Conserve ammo, make ’em count. We are down to 5 effectives and 2 walking wounded. I scurry around grabbing ammo, and grenades while my radio man tries to raise HQ.
We need air or arty ASAP, but in this triple canopy Im unsure how well it will work, or where it might land!
So this is what dad did? Except of course he was all gunho. Me, I’m scared as shit. But I wont let these boys down. I got to prove my worth to them and earn their respect. Whatever it takes.
