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In the mountains, Republic of Vietnam, winter 1966. I don’t like being out in the open like this, with the VC hunting us down. Open and exposed to rifle fire and mortar rounds. It makes me nervous being out here. Damn it! If this VC had been a little more cautious, I wouldn’t be out here in the open and we wouldn’t have to do this.

Ten minutes ago, E Blo and I had arrived at the trail juncture at the foot of the mountain, both a little out of breath from running. Bob Price and the rest of our squad were following, farther up the mountain. E Blo and I stood there quietly, carefully looking around, checking out security, when this VC stepped around a blind turn to our right, about ten yards away. He had a big smile on his face, like he and the comrades he thought he was joining had the drop on us. He was short and young and dressed in black pajamas. I swung around and fired a hipshot. E Blo fired a shoulder shot a split second later. We saw him, he saw us, his smile changed to an Oh shit look, and we shot him—all within a second. I know I hit him in the lower chest, off to his left side, because I saw the strike knock him back. As he spun around  away from us, E Blo hit him in the back. A thin squirt of blood sprayed above his left shoulder and he ran out of sight down the trail.

I dropped my pack and signaled E Blo to watch the juncture and wait for the squad. They were at most a minute behind, probably not even that. I could have stayed and sent E Blo. But E Blo was an elder of the Rhade Montagnards and he would have killed the VC outright, given the VC wasn’t already dead when he caught up with him. The VC still might be worth taking prisoner, so it was better I went.

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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