DARE TO DREAM...
Part 3: TO EACH HIS OWN...
Good news bad news scenario, good news is that the Captain survived the evening chow; bad news is we moved out at first light.
We entered deeper into the jungles in and around Cam Lo. As ordered, we formed skirmish lines that seemed to stretch hundreds of yards to the left and right. Everything was copasetic during this sweep `til the brush got so thick you couldn't spot the guy next to you. Ears were fine-tuned and listening for the scraping of bushes to the point of bleeding, the last thing ya wanted was to be separated from the line or even worse end up heading in the wrong direction.
Once in a while all ya could hear was the knock of a gunstock and we would go down on one knee and wait rifles at the ready. Waiting was the hardest part 'cause if we were down something was up. The thoughts that go ripping through yer mind during these times were enough to scare the bejesus out of Jack the Ripper himself. I think the mind has a nasty sense of humor the way it does a body wrong. It isn't bad enough stumbling around deep in the shit sweating bullets while wishing the two-ounce mosquitoes would just airlift ya outta there. But now every sound turned into a black pajama clad Viet Cong division wanting to take your head off. Eyes darting frantically up, down, left and right hoping someone friendly has got your back. Minutes seemed like hours and then knock, knock; we're up again moving slow and steady into the AO.
Took a deep breath and a sigh of relief when I saw my fellow sojourner again - I'd have hugged `em if it wouldn't have been bad etiquette but they frowned on that sort of thing then and it was a good way to get shot by friendly fire. Marines were a tight unit but a Nod of the head and the full bird salute went just as far, if ya know what I mean.
We plundered our way deeper and deeper into boonies stopping every once in a while `til the order was given again given to move out. The bush was starting to thin out a bit and was similar to walking into a forest more than that a jungle. In a weird way it sort of reminded me of some of the deep woods in Vermont that I used to go hunting in. Looking up could actually see blue-sky openings above the canopy; lulled me into a false sense of security and peace.
Decent trees, green patches of ground, woodsy smell which was a whole helluva lot better than the fish heads and rice we were smelling last night. Thinking about that tree stand in the autumn of the year; drifting into la-la-land full bore when the shot rang out from nowhere whistling through paradise.
Now either Deer have evolved into hunting machines with the superb ability to camouflage and snipe or I really was in Viet Nam fighting a war. Seeing no visible antlers in the trees I succumbed to the reality that there was a sniper in the vicinity. The Line went down to the prone position and we waited. See what dreaming does for ya, here I go again having to kick myself in the buttocks. Live and learn hell.
Another shot rang out zipping through the trees above us. Silence broken once again and hearts pounding inside your head like a jackhammer gone postal, most certainly has a way of awakening your senses to maximum efficiency. We waited. No telling where the sniper was. We had been fortunate so far as no casualties were reported down the line. One fire team was getting a fix on the general vicinity; still everyone was edgy as hell. I can't begin to explain to you what it feels like to be shot at and being helpless as a fish out of water.
No one dared to move and I think some even stopped breathing for fear of exposing themselves to the sniper. Talk about white as a ghost, hell some of `em, including myself, were white as a haint and, a couple of 'em were Soul Brothers. Laugh if ya want but I was only four months into the Nam and finding out that life's experiences are starting to suck big-time.
Crack! Another shot rips through the silence but this time a squad of Marines stood up and started tearing the shit out of the tree tops with M-14s, M-79's and an M-60. All hell was breaking loose and all you could see was branches and foliage dancing in the distance. Puff the Magic Dragon had nothing over on these bad sumbitches and they were giving it all they had for what seemed like 15 minutes of pure firepower.
Silence again. Smoke filled the air, some scurrying around by the powers that be. Nothing moved. No more sniper shots rang out for 30 minutes or so. I figure that sniper was duly impressed with our massive display of treetop trimming technology or, he couldn't believe the balls these guys had and the sniper left while he still had his. Course there was an outside chance that the sniper died of lead poisoning or worse. Either way, this learning curb was over and we moved on looking for a place to set up a perimeter defense before darkness set in.
By the way, remember that helpless a fish outta water line I gave ya a while ago? Well it hit home like a ton of bricks, 'cause I reckon that's the way Bambi feels when wandering through the woods and some one with a 306 drops 'em like a bad habit from 20' in the air. Been hunting a couple of times since I've been back to the world and I used to sport a bumper sticker that said..." I love animals; they taste good "... But I take no pleasure in it anymore. I'm not a Bambi hugger and If ya hunt for food that's one thing, Killing for the hell of it or for the sheer joy of its another thing all together.
To each his own.