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On the Laotian border, Republic of Vietnam, winter 1966. Holy shit! Twenty feet in front of me soldiers of the North Vietnamese Army pass from right to left along a main trail running perpendicular to our smaller side trail. The narrow opening in the brushy understory allows me to see two of them at a time. I’m close enough to hear the rain drumming on their pith helmets. The water pours off their helmets and courses down their khaki uniforms. They keep the cold rain from hitting their faces by hunching up their shoulders and tilting their heads downward, a stiff posture which keeps them from looking to the side and seeing me, standing stone still looking at them. Some of the NVA converse to their comrades forward and rear, talking forcefully to overcome the water sound. Some even laugh, perhaps at the lark of it all.

I hope the men behind me have frozen in place. I don't move one muscle, not even my thumb to flick off the safety on my CAR-15. A leech drops down my back to the beltline, feeling gorged with blood and clammy cold against my skin.

'Jesus Christ, Bob. Don't come forward. Don't fucking move at all,' I pray. Bob, a squad of Montagnards and I are on a recon patrol in the western mountains separating the Ashau Valley from Laos. Three days ago a helicopter inserted us into a clearing ten kilometers to the north. This is the first time we’ve run into NVA, though there have been signs aplenty of their presence, especially ominously fresh footprints in the muddy trails.

After the 30^th man, no more pass and I hear them sloshing and talking, disappearing into the jungle to my left. After a few seconds I signal the Yard behind me to move backwards by sticking out my left arm and pushing my open palm to the rear. I cautiously step backwards, my CAR-15 pointed towards the empty trail juncture. Our side trail snakes down a steep ravine, and I keep my balance by holding onto branches and exposed roots, all the while trusting that the men behind me are backing up too.

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• Over the Line
• Caribou Park
• Silent Night
• The Opening
• Clouds
• Learning to Pray in a Very Tight Spot
• Language of Rivers
• The Home Front

© Copyright 2004 Keith R. Parker