Back inside the base shack, the US Army intelligence officer seemed caught off guard.

“Wait,” said Lt. Colonel Simms. “Lieutenant Pinsky ordered the five of you to set up flanking positions?”

Private Miller’s face twitched before responding because it appeared to be different then what the Lt. Colonel had been led to believe, “Yes Sir.”

The Lt. Colonel looked over his notes and shook his head before writing something down. Lt. Colonel Simms looked back over to Glen and stared at him. His eyes were intense, almost interrogating. It was as if he was searching for some form of truth from Glen’s eyes alone, but he just looked back down at his notes one more time.

“Just so you know, Lt. Pinsky reported that Private Pavlik and yourself, along with Privates Monegan, Hinsley and Jamijin all went AWAL as the firefight began. But we will get this cleared up rather soon.”

Glen’s jaw dropped.

He hadn’t been debriefed concerning who returned or Lt. Pinsky’s final report. Sadly, it had appeared that Lt. Pinsky lied about men running off in order to save his reputation as a platoon’s leader.

“Why don’t you go ahead and carry on?” Asked Lt. Colonel Boyd with a twisted smile of someone who was becoming entertained.

“Yes Sir.”

It had nearly been five minutes since the two flanking sniper positions had been deployed and Glen was growing anxious for the fight to begin. But with that deep feeling came dread and anxiety. Adrenalin mixed in with his blood and he forced himself keep his hands from shaking.

The rifle he carried was now shifting with his tremors and the best he could do to keep a shot was balance it on a nearby tree branch.

POP!

The first shot fired off; Glen could tell that it was an American gun. Soon several other shots went off and Glen watched as the Vietnamese troops standing in the river took bullets to their bodies. They dropped quickly and the river below them became deep with red blood.

BANG!

A loud explosion blasted next to Glen’s ear as Private Hinsley let his rifle go. In the bushes, a Vietnamese soldier fell out and into the river. Down where the rest of the platoon lay, the direct opposite riverbank was unleashing round after round of fire. Monegan began to let out shots and Glen finally joined in on the fight.

A little upstream from the main bulk of the Vietnamese force was a rustling in the bushes. Glen nudged Monegan and they both let go three shots in the vicinity. After several seconds, three Vietnamese men themselves dropped out of the bushes and into the river.

Looking back down river, Glen witnessed at least 15 Vietnamese men making their way across the river and towards Lt. Pavlik and Private Jamijin. Glen took one shot at the men downstream but he quickly realized that it would do no good.

Suddenly, three different sets of heavy machine guns began to fire from across the river and suppress the fire upon the bulk of his platoon.

“FALLBACK! FALL THE FUCK BACK!”

The yell of Lt. Pinsky could barely be heard, but Glen did indeed hear it.

Before he could get Hinsley and Monegan’s attention, a bullet hit the small mound of dirt in front of Glen’s face and blew soil mixed with rocks into his eyes. Monegan turned slightly next to him and let go two shots. Glen couldn’t see, but he heard the splash of a body in the water.

He tried his hardest to get the dirt out of his eyes, but it was deeply embedded into them. Glen could still hear splashes, but they weren’t bodies landing in them, they were of men running across the river.

Now the splashes had turned into thuds as the feet were on land, less than a dozen feet away.

Monegan and Hinsley let go shot-after-shot and each one came quicker after the next. Hinsley stopped to reload and that is when the Vietnamese troops came down upon them. Glen’s eyes barely came into focus, but the first thing he saw what Hinsley’s face being butt ended. Glen quickly pointed his rifle and blew a hole in the stomach of the soldier. The next one came at them, but Monegan took care of him with two shots, one in the neck and one in the head.

Finally, after crouching down to lay some more fire, they remembered Pinsky’s orders and began to fall back. While the thick brush gave them some room for sneaking, it also held them up from making any fast pace to catch up with the rest.

Glen’s body was now being drenching in sweat and a spatter of blood along his face. His body was no longer shaking from anxiety but was now instead focused by the adrenaline and the bizarre confidence he gained from killing enemy soldiers.

He tried not to think about it, but it was all he could as he raced through the jungle. Finally, he, Monegan and Hinsley, who’s right side of his face was swollen, stopped before a trail going perpendicular with them.

“Should we take the trail?” Monegan asked, but within a second of asking he had turned around and put a bullet in the body of a Vietnamese who had been tracking them. Private Monegan cooly wiped some blood and dirt from his face and looked back at Glen.

“Charlie is everywhere, we can’t take any worn path. Let’s skirt around the grass clearing and make our way back,” Glen said quietly.

Very faintly, the group of three privates heard the sound of a radio.

About twenty feet away from where they stood was a dead American soldier. It was Private Hernandez, their platoon’s radio guy. Glen tried his best not to look at Hernandez’s obliterated face, but instead concentrated on the what the radio was communicating.

“Roger that 2nd Platoon, air strike inbound… beginning one kilometer from river and ending half a kilometer on the other side.”

Glen’s heart raced at the news, and he frantically contemplated what their next course of action would be.

Monegan snorted and spoke calmly, “We aren’t going to get out of the strike zone.”

“Our best bet is to make a run for the river and jump in. It’s safest underwater.” Hinsley added.

Glen looked around before firing a shot and killing another Vietnamese soldier who was sneaking up on them, “That’s our only chance. Just hold your breath and float downstream.”

Monegan and Hinsley both nodded and the three men made their run for the river.

Along the sprint, the three of them kept making shots at Charlie, who would come from behind trees and such. Glen was in the zone and every shot he took hit an enemy soldier.

BANG!

One went down.

BANG!

Another Vietnamese soldier gone.

BANG!

That time in the bastard’s face.

BANG!

Wait, that wasn’t Glen’s gun. Glen stopped and looked back for Monegan and Hinsley but he only saw Hinsley standing there, looking down on Monegan. Noting the short amount of time before the airstrike, Glen scrambled to Monegan.

The blood from Monegan’s chest was actually squirting into Glen’s face as he tried to talk to his fallen brother. Glen decided it must have hit an artery as the blood was flowing heavily, and obviously Monegan’s life was nearly over.

“Joey…?” asked Glen as he desperately pressed his hands down on Monegan’s chest to stop the bleeding before it was too late. But it was too late; Private Joseph Monegan from San Diego, California was dead.

Frustratingly, there was nothing Glen could do as the sound of fighter jets got louder and louder. Glen stood up and grabbed Hinsley by the arm and got them running again. Behind them, explosion after explosion went off as the air strike began. Balls of fire incinerated the jungle as they chased Hinsley and Glen, but now the two privates could, at least, see the edge of the river.

Between them and the bank was a Vietnamese soldier with a raised rifle, but Glen managed to get his side arm out and take a shot. Unfortunately, before the Vietnamese soldier was down, he managed to get off a shot which squarely hit Private Hinsley.

Looking back, he saw Hinsley fall to his knees and yell one word thing before fire engulfed him from the airstrike.

“GO!”

It was the last hurrah from Private Brett Hinsley, or ‘Smiley from Dallas’ as the rest of the platoon had known him.

Glen looked back ahead and saw the fast-moving water. Vietnamese soldiers across the river were diving into the river as well, but right now it didn’t matter to Glen. Using his running speed, Glen leaped and dove in the river as the airstrike flew overhead…