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Authors: Donald E. Zlotnik
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rot!”
“Stop your bitching,
Sergeant
!” Arnason opened the door again, stepped outside, and immediately sank up to his ankles in the red mud. “I’m going to walk
over and see the captain.”
Woods nodded and started drying his hair. Warner stuck his head through the trap door. He had finished his business up top
and wanted to change his clothes. “How much longer are you going to take, Sergeant?”
“Relax, Warner. You told me to go first, remember?” Woods thought of something and went over to the ladder; he looked up at
Warner. “Get back out of the way, I’ve got to climb up top for a second.”
Woods pulled himself through the opening onto the roof. He stood naked on the edge of the bunker and cupped his hands around
his mouth. “Arnason!”
The team leader stopped walking through the mud field and turned back to face the bunker. He saw Woods standing bare-assed
on the bunker. “WHAT!”
“TELL THE CAPTAIN WE WANT TO STAY TOGETHER!” Woods threw an exaggerated punch at the air to emphasize his words.
Arnason waved and turned back to struggling his way through the mud to the orderly room. The wooden planks that had been used
as a walkway had been washed away. He looked at all the destruction around him and shook his head. It would take weeks to
repair the damage to the base camp, but that was a job for the clerks, not the recon teams. He was glad there was a mission
planned for his team.
He stopped and used the steps to scrape off most of the mud from his jungle boots before entering the orderly room. The place
was a mess. “Morning, First Sergeant. Is the captain in?”
“He’ll be out in a minute.” The senior NCO looked pissed. “This fucking country isn’t fit for the Vietcong!” He lit a cigar
after going through a half pack of damp matches and looked up at Arnason. “How’s those new replacements coming along?”
“Great! I lucked out and drew some good men. They’ve jelled perfectly as a team. I’m looking forward to a shakeout mission.”
“Kirkpatrick is supposed to be coming back today or tomorrow from R and R. Shaw wants him assigned to the supply room.” The
first sergeant looked over the tip of his cigar at Arnason. “What do you think about that idea?”
“I’ve told Shaw before that Kirkpatrick is a
recon
man and not a supply clerk!”
“Arnason, you’ve got a
seven
-man team and an E-5 for an assistant team leader. A lot of people are starting to bitch.”
“Top”—Arnason had to pause and get control of his temper—“we have teams in this company that have
never
gone out on a mission and you know that! They always have some damn kind of excuse why their team isn’t ready … Yes! I am
overstrengthed
right now
, but I’m also pulling missions!” Arnason tightened his lips and then added, “And damn tough ones besides!”
“Relax, Arnason. You don’t have to start your fucking bragging with me!” The first sergeant’s voice barely hid the jealousy
he felt toward Arnason. It was true; he had pulled some very difficult missions and had gained a reputation for being a very
good team leader. Arnason didn’t know it yet, but he had made sergeant first class. The brigade sergeant major had told the
first sergeant the day before while they were having supper together. The orders had just reached the personnel section. Arnason
was very young to be making E-7, and the old E-8 was not very happy with the idea; he had been over forty years old when he
had made E-7, but that was back in the old days when you had to soldier for your rank.
“Morning sergeants!” Captain Youngbloode stepped into the room.
“Morning sir. Do you have a minute?” Arnason stood at attention.
“Sure. I’ve got to check our portion of the perimeter. We can talk and walk at the same time.” Youngbloode removed his helmet
and pistol belt off their hooks and pushed the door open for Arnason to step out first. “I’ll be back in a couple
“Stop your bitching,
Sergeant
!” Arnason opened the door again, stepped outside, and immediately sank up to his ankles in the red mud. “I’m going to walk
over and see the captain.”
Woods nodded and started drying his hair. Warner stuck his head through the trap door. He had finished his business up top
and wanted to change his clothes. “How much longer are you going to take, Sergeant?”
“Relax, Warner. You told me to go first, remember?” Woods thought of something and went over to the ladder; he looked up at
Warner. “Get back out of the way, I’ve got to climb up top for a second.”
Woods pulled himself through the opening onto the roof. He stood naked on the edge of the bunker and cupped his hands around
his mouth. “Arnason!”
The team leader stopped walking through the mud field and turned back to face the bunker. He saw Woods standing bare-assed
on the bunker. “WHAT!”
“TELL THE CAPTAIN WE WANT TO STAY TOGETHER!” Woods threw an exaggerated punch at the air to emphasize his words.
Arnason waved and turned back to struggling his way through the mud to the orderly room. The wooden planks that had been used
as a walkway had been washed away. He looked at all the destruction around him and shook his head. It would take weeks to
repair the damage to the base camp, but that was a job for the clerks, not the recon teams. He was glad there was a mission
planned for his team.
He stopped and used the steps to scrape off most of the mud from his jungle boots before entering the orderly room. The place
was a mess. “Morning, First Sergeant. Is the captain in?”
“He’ll be out in a minute.” The senior NCO looked pissed. “This fucking country isn’t fit for the Vietcong!” He lit a cigar
after going through a half pack of damp matches and looked up at Arnason. “How’s those new replacements coming along?”
“Great! I lucked out and drew some good men. They’ve jelled perfectly as a team. I’m looking forward to a shakeout mission.”
“Kirkpatrick is supposed to be coming back today or tomorrow from R and R. Shaw wants him assigned to the supply room.” The
first sergeant looked over the tip of his cigar at Arnason. “What do you think about that idea?”
“I’ve told Shaw before that Kirkpatrick is a
recon
man and not a supply clerk!”
“Arnason, you’ve got a
seven
-man team and an E-5 for an assistant team leader. A lot of people are starting to bitch.”
“Top”—Arnason had to pause and get control of his temper—“we have teams in this company that have
never
gone out on a mission and you know that! They always have some damn kind of excuse why their team isn’t ready … Yes! I am
overstrengthed
right now
, but I’m also pulling missions!” Arnason tightened his lips and then added, “And damn tough ones besides!”
“Relax, Arnason. You don’t have to start your fucking bragging with me!” The first sergeant’s voice barely hid the jealousy
he felt toward Arnason. It was true; he had pulled some very difficult missions and had gained a reputation for being a very
good team leader. Arnason didn’t know it yet, but he had made sergeant first class. The brigade sergeant major had told the
first sergeant the day before while they were having supper together. The orders had just reached the personnel section. Arnason
was very young to be making E-7, and the old E-8 was not very happy with the idea; he had been over forty years old when he
had made E-7, but that was back in the old days when you had to soldier for your rank.
“Morning sergeants!” Captain Youngbloode stepped into the room.
“Morning sir. Do you have a minute?” Arnason stood at attention.
“Sure. I’ve got to check our portion of the perimeter. We can talk and walk at the same time.” Youngbloode removed his helmet
and pistol belt off their hooks and pushed the door open for Arnason to step out first. “I’ll be back in a couple
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