Lost Love Found

PROLOGUE The world ended at 6:45 AM on April 16, 1970. That was all right though; Dan Jagger knew it was coming. Starting with tremendous ground-shaking rumble, the “Arc Light” thunder grew ever more intense. Dan coughed as he breathed in the air that was suddenly filled with a choking fine green mist peppered with disturbing pockets of moist pink particles, as it fell like a heavy fog into the camp. Dan and his fellow soldiers didn’t dare lift their heads above the barricades to peer down into the thickly jungled lowlands. Each soldier knew what was happening, even if it was their first arc light. The CO had explained what to expect from the B52 strike the previous night. After an eternity had passed, forty-five seconds actually, the rumbling and California-like earthquake shaking stopped, and word came down the green-line that the drop had ended. Dan gingerly poked his head above the shelter to survey the results. As he looked down the slope, he noticed the open space between the barbed wire and the jungle edge one klick away from FSB Sunshine. He knew from the briefing that the B52 would not drop the bombs any closer than a full kilometer from the Fire Support Base, and prayed that it was enough to eliminate the North Vietnamese Army regiment that had come up on them. They had been praying that it would be only a company-size unit of Viet Cong, but had learned that reconnaissance planes had spotted the NVA regiment moving in from Cambodia yesterday morning. The VC never moved in force across from the border, and was not known to have duce-n-halfs with them. Only regular army forces, be it NVA, or US used the two-and-a-half-ton trucks. Dan had been in-country for less then two months, and had seen no real action. Assigned to the infantry, and now with the 1st Air Calvary’s Second of the Twelfth Calvary “Blackjack” regiment in Tay Ninh Province near the Cambodian border, he had been on daily foot patrols but had never been in a fire fight. One old-timer in the unit, a twenty-five-year-old staff sergeant, had said this was just the lull before the storm ahead of the rainy season. Dan feared that he’d soon find out whether his training had prepared him for the real thing. As he looked out over the barricade at FSB Sunshine, the twenty-year old lanky college dropout thought of the vast beauty in this part of the world. The base was on top of a low hill overlooking the broad plain off the slopes of Nguey Ba Ra, the 4,000 foot high mountain that was the most prominent feature in this part of Vietnam. If only his fiancée, Darlene, could see this country during peace time. His high school girlfriend and his first and only love; his only desire now was to “get the hell out of Dodge” and return to her arms. He’d been offered West Point, officer’s training, and flight school while in basic training, but turned them all down so as not to extend his two-year stint away from her. What he wouldn’t give to be with her now. The air was clearing now, after the effects of the Arc Light dissipated, and he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. Dan lowered his head and checked his weapons. The M16 was locked and loaded with the safety off, and his M79 grenade launcher was ready and loaded with a HE round. The forty-millimeter grenade packed a good punch with the gold-colored high-explosive round that filled the shotgun-like breach. He prayed the Arc Light had taken the will to fight out of the NVA today. Dan glanced to his left, and was startled to see his LT take a position thirty feet away with the platoon RTO. The second lieutenant was a “butter bar” right out of Officer Candidate School, and even younger than Dan’s twenty years. Dan didn’t regret his choice to not attend OCS, not if he’d turn out like the LT. The radio telecommunications operator was another FNG and followed his LT everywhere. Fucking new guy, Dan thought, there was never any end to them. And to think he had been the FNG only a month ago, but at least he didn’t act like he knew it all and he took the advice of the veteran old-timers in the unit. Dan didn’t want to be anywhere near the LT and his lackey RTO, but he had nowhere to go. Especially now that the battle was about to begin. For now, everything was quiet. The air had cleared now, thanks to a soft breeze that came up the slope from the enemy’s position. Second Lieutenant Harker motioned to his RTO to take a look over the revetment. The revetment normally was used to protect helicopters from shrapnel damage in the event of incoming mortar or 122MM rocket rounds. The choppers would park between them after off-loading equipment and personnel. They were a little over four feet in height, and designed to deflect the effects of small explosions. This particular one was offset from the landing pad, and the one closest to the greenline. It was a safe place to hunker down behind when the shit hit the fan, as Dan feared it was about to do. As the breeze swept up into the LZ it carried a very noticeable fragrance. One of the old-timers to Dan’s right was talking about how the gooks were already smoking opium to get ready for the attack. He said the Viet Cong would do that, which meant the NVA was going to attack from another side. The NVA wouldn’t smoke dope. He thought they had about twenty minutes before the attack. Dan checked his weapons again, and took a drink from his canteen, and lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. This would be his first real action. In the patrols he’d been on in the valley, there had been no shots fired. That last-minute trip to the latrine had been a smart thing to do. At least he wouldn’t shit his pants in the hours ahead. Or so he prayed. Once again, Dan checked his M16 and the “dooper”. The grenade launcher was called the dooper because of the sound it made when fired. Just a simple low “doop”. Dan had shot expert in both the M16 rifle and the M79 grenade launcher in Advanced Infantry Training. He’d learned to shoot in Basic Training on the M14, but only qualified as a Marksman. In AIT, he mastered the lighter and smaller M16, and the grenade launcher was even smaller than that. It was too quiet now, for too long. Jones, the RTO, poked his head over the revetment. As soon as his helmet cleared the top, Dan felt more then heard a whooshing sound coming up the slope. Instinctively he started to turn his face away. A 122MM rocket glanced off the side of the RTO’s helmet and was deflected away from Dan. The explosion sprayed shrapnel in all directions, as the air was suddenly filled with smoke and explosions. Dan’s ears popped and he felt some stinging in his face. A sharp “ping” hit his chest, and he new he was hit. Dan quickly assessed his condition. Some minor cuts on his forehead and above his left cheek, and a dull pain in his chest. The face wounds were bleeding rapidly, but he knew the amount of blood was no sign of the seriousness of the injuries. He felt his face and there seemed to be nothing broken. The chest seemed intact, so he wiped the blood away from his eyes with his sleeve and looked around. The RTO wasn’t moving, and there was a dent in his helmet. The LT was visibly shaken and trembling as he shook his RTO. There were a lot of explosions in the FSB, and Dan turned his attention to the green-line. He slowly raised his head to peer over the revetment and saw hordes of VC charging up the slope. He grabbed his M16 and started firing three-round bursts of the .223 caliber weapon. He couldn’t see if any of his shots hit anyone, but then he wasn’t aiming; just firing blindly down the slope. His weapon clicked on the empty magazine. Dan cursed the puny twenty-round magazines the Army had for the M16. The enemy had thirty and forty round banana-clips for their weapons. Dan slipped a full clip into the weapon and pulled the charging handle to chamber the first round.