We just received word to sweep the village ahead. We will break for chow and then get on line. I
will be in the first line and there will be 2 lines of soldiers behind us.
I wondered what I should eat for what could be my last meal. I should eat my pound cake but I
am saving it to celebrated my 19th birthday which is only 33 days away. "God, I hope you let me
make it to 19".
We are on line and ready to move out. I am in between two troopers about the same height as me.
You never want to stand out or every gook in the world will want to take a shot at you.
The line is moving now. Damn, every time I take a step I sink to my kneecaps. These damn rice
patties are nothing but mud from the rains. My 100-pound rucksack weights a ton.
Oh, fuck! The shit just hit the fan. Rounds are buzzing and cracking by my head.
"Oh God, not in the head".
If I turn my head, I will die for sure. I feel the breezes of the rounds as they buzz by both sides
of my head. I hope the son of a bitch does not adjust his aim.
Only 32 days till my birthday.
Written By: Floyd Turnley