predicament. We don’t have a spare pair of pants
in the company, it’s bone dry--no streams or well
water available for him to wash with (our drinking
water had to be brought in by chopper) and the
daily temperatures reach 115’. He doesn’t get
clean pants for another 48 hours.

Then we walk
off the hill, have only gone maybe 500 meters when
someone yells to look back. The hilltop is
swarming with NVA; they’re checking our positions
and finishing the job of burying their dead. CPT
Gibson tries to get gunships on the scene but
there are none available. Kim Scharmen, the FO
calls in artillery but as usual (not Kim’s fault)
the rounds miss the hilltop, the NVA take cover
and it’s all for nothing. We joke that we could
stay right here and simply take turns with the
NVA, attacking and defending the hill. A metaphor
for the Viet Nam war perhaps?

Then we move
out, heading further into the Valley of Death.

Don Gourley