Roop

15 Pages 3656 Words

by the noise of the helicopters. Though the helicopter gunners continued its fusillade into the heavy growth to the north of them, there was no incoming fire. We were safe for the moment.

"OK," I yelled signaling with my hands the way you're not supposed to. Hand signals are a good way to mark yourself as the leader. It's just the thing enemy snipers watch for. But few of my twenty-seven men could hear me over the roar and firing of the helicopters. I had no choice. "Move out. On the double," I ordered. The choppers lifted. We were on our own.

The soldiers started with the usual complaining but then grew strangely quiet. They knew we had to hump quickly to leave the dangerously-exposed LZ. The helicopters were lost in the distance; the only sounds were the usual clanking of equipment and water sloshing in canteens.

It took nearly an hour to trudge through the grassland and occasional wooded section of the valley to the heavy jungle area at the foot of the hills. Our travel slowed while we ascended the slight incline and wove through the ever thickening vegetation. At the ridge which overlooked the Dien Hoa, we halted while I inspected the village below them with my binoculars.

I searched for a warning sign, some hint of danger. Old men, women, and children, with a few water buffalo, milled around; everything appeared normal. But I knew that just because an area "looked" business-as-usual it meant nothing in Vietnam.

"Call headquarters," I told my radio man as I lowered my binoculars. Moments later, he had reached headquarters with his PRC-25; I took the phone piece and let my commander know what the situation was. As expected, we were ordered to continue toward the village. I gave the radio phone-piece to the radioman, put my helmet back onto my head, and stood.

"Sergeant," I said.

"Yes, Sir," Sergeant Nelson answered. The burley, middle-aged trooper squinted at me. His face was wrinkles, sunburn, and peeling s...