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hell we’re doing patrolling around this village.”
    “Well, it’s like this,” said Harrison, “the VC are out here every night trying to get stuff from the villagers like food, clothes, money, recruits, even information. But most of the villagers are friendly toward us and don’t want anything to do with the Gooks. So, our job is to ambush the VC and let ‘em die for their cause.”
    “Well, now that we made enemy contact, how come we’re not digging in?”
    “You kidding? If we dug in every night this place would be so full of holes we’d never be able to move in the dark without breakin’ our fuckin’ necks.”
    “What if the VC counter attack in the middle of the night?”
    “They don’t do that shit anymore. Now they just run around setting up booby traps, hitting us only when it’s to their advantage. Besides, we’re so close to Camp Evans that we can bring the world down on top of them and they know it.”
    “Hey,” laughed Smith. “Did you guys see that dip shit Halveston firing his M-60 over Evans?”
    “Yeah,” said Scoggins, “he’s so stupid. Those tracers sailed right past the bunker line. I’m surprised they didn’t shoot back at us.”
    “They were probably sleeping,” added Harrison. “That bunker line guard duty is really boring.”
    “Here, Wiknik,” said Scoggins. “Take this handful of stones.”
    “Stones? Stones for what?”
    “To throw at Halveston. He’s always falling asleep during his guard and he snores so loud that he might give away our position. So we toss stones at him to keep him awake.”
    “Geez, I can’t believe that guy is in the field.”
    “Neither can we, but so far he’s been harmless.”
    The banter continued until my companions settled down for their turn at sleep. The stillness of the evening surrounded me as I sat alone, contemplating my chances of surviving the year-long tour of duty. It didn’t look promising if more nights started out like this one had.
    At dawn, we performed our morning routines while waiting for enough light to resume our search. That’s when Harrison started up.
    “We’ve got a dead Gook out there! I can smell him!”
    “Knock it off, Harrison!” shouted the Lieutenant.
    “Hey, man. I can smell him,” he growled back, pointing toward an opening in the brush. “Look over there.”
    Nobody believed him, of course, thinking it was just another one of his acts to convince us he’s crazy. Krol took five guys to check it out just in case. After a few minutes one of the men yelled, “Over here! A dead Gook!”
    “I told you we got one,” Harrison smugly said. We looked at him in amazement, wondering whether he had some magical power or if he was just plain nuts.
    I couldn’t resist the temptation to check out our kill. Death must have been instantaneous. The body lay face down with arms and legs frozen in a running position. Near the right shoulder blade, the shirt had a tiny bloodstained bullet hole. One of the men prodded the corpse several times before rolling it over. Each person stepped back with the same astonished look on his face. I felt nausea. There was a gaping hole in the shoulder big enough to put a softball in. The mutilated tangle of splintered bones and flesh seemed unreal. The face was contorted with teeth gritted and eyes closed. I squirmed inside as the lifeless form became recognizable. The physique was that of a young woman, maybe in her late teens, about my age. We had killed a girl. During my sheltered civilian life I had never been to a wake or funeral, and now the first dead human I set my eyes upon was a female with her shoulder blown away. It was sickening.
    A few of the platoon members came over for a glimpse of the body. The others, not caring, continued eating and talking. I was subconsciously glued to the spot, watching as the Lieutenant searched over the grisly corpse.
    “She didn’t even have a weapon,” I said faintly.
    “The Gooks know the rules. Don’t get caught after