The Hard Way Home

THE POINT MAN – part 1

Sergeant Anderson used every ounce of strength in his body to keep from losing his temper. It was sheer force of will that was holding him back and keeping his fist in his pocket, rather than planted in the young officer’s jaw. Lieutenant Goldman, his lieutenant, was giving him a verbal thrashing the likes of which Zeke had not heard since basic.

It was undeserved. The gist of it was Anderson changing the CO’s orders without first checking with the CO. In Zeke’s mind it was petty. The sergeant was doing the right thing, doing his job… taking care of his men. Lieutenant Goldman had not disagreed with the decision, he was just pissed that the staff sergeant had not first checked. Had the sergeant thought about it, he would have checked, not out of necessity, but because the lieutenant was new and still worried about his own authority. A more experienced officer would have expected his sergeant to make the necessary adjustments in gear and ammo as the mission changed, but a young cherry lieutenant like this one would take it as disobeying an order…a slap in the face.

The lieutenant looked about twenty-two or twenty-three years old. It was his first tour in the Nam and the boy was probably scared to death, though he did not show it. The odd thing was that Sergeant Anderson had actually taken a liking to the kid. They had been out more than a few times all ready, and the sergeant thought that the boy would make a good soldier. Lieutenant Goldman had a no nonsense approach (typical of a newbie CO) but he was also smart in the bush (NOT typical of a newbie CO). The second lieutenant had good instincts, and most importantly to the men of Bravo Company, he could read a map. That fact was a priority since that had been the demise of their last lieutenant, as well as a few friends.

The fact that Goldman was a “hard ass” (his men’s term) or a “rules oriented type of guy” (Zeke’s term) did not bother Zeke in the least. It actually made the sergeant’s job easier. Let the lieutenant worry about keeping the men in line, leaving the sergeant free to worry about keeping them alive.

But this…this was ridiculous. What angered Zeke was having a twenty-two year old, in country less than a month, in his face yelling at him like he was some FNG. Anderson was on his third tour and had been in the army for going on ten years, he felt like he deserved a little more respect than the lieutenant was giving him. “Officers,” Zeke thought, silently cursing them all. The only thing going for the CO right now was the fact the sergeant had been summoned to the lieutenant’s quarters and this dressing down was being done in private…still the kid had a lot to learn.

“Am I making myself clear Sergeant?” The boy lieutenant finally asked, winding down.

Zeke wanted to put him over his knee and spank him for disrespecting his elders. Instead he forced a “yes Sir.”

“Good, that’s all you are dismissed.” With that Zeke saluted and when the lieutenant returned the salute, the sergeant was quickly out the door.

As soon as Anderson was gone, Lieutenant Myron Goldman let out a sigh of relief, grabbed a cigarette and flopped down in his desk chair. What the hell had gotten into him? Myron had wanted to talk to Anderson about clearing all orders with him before making any changes. He had no intention of berating the NCO and scolding him like a child. It had all just tumbled out…the young officer’s own frustrations and lack of confidence. Goldman took it out on Anderson because the sergeant had all the qualities that the lieutenant felt most lacking in himself.

Anderson was genuine and likable with his mid western accent and down home sense of humor. The sergeant was decisive and calm in the bush, but more than all of that…he had the men’s trust. That was what gnawed away at the newbie lieutenant. Myron understood that the particular kind of trust the men had in their sergeant did not happen overnight, it took time to develop, but Lieutenant Myron Goldman was not a patient man. Maybe he could not earn his men’s trust overnight, but he would be damn sure they showed him the proper respect.

Lieutenant Goldman hated when he gave an order and would catch the soldier looking at Anderson, waiting for a subtle nod before obeying that order. When the young officer would send Anderson out on patrol, it was obvious how nervous and jumpy the men were, not wanting to trust their lives to their new lieutenant. Realizing that Anderson had been their sergeant for a lot longer than he had been their lieutenant, Myron tried to let it slide.

The last mission had particularly bothered the young officer. Myron had sent Sergeant Anderson and three of his soldiers, Ruiz, Baker and one of the new transfers, Egan, out on a night patrol and set up a two-man guard around the perimeter with the rest of the platoon. As the men were finishing up their digging, Lieutenant Goldman ordered someone to join him in his foxhole. With Anderson out on patrol, he would need someone to rotate the two-hour shifts of guarding and sleeping. It was already dark and no one had shown up, so Myron had quietly crawled over to the next hole. There were four of them there--Johnson, Percell, Taylor and the other new guy, name of Spencer. Steven Spencer was not a newbie; he was just new to Bravo Company. Spencer and his best friend, Andrew Egan, had transferred in from their screwed up platoon in the Mekong Delta. The lieutenant was so close he could hear them all whispering.

Taylor was complaining, “I don’t care that I drew the low card, I am not bunking down with that cherry butter bar.”

Johnson laughed. “Taylor you just ain’t use to losing. You lost…go before you get us all in trouble.”

“Hell no Marvin,” Taylor responded. “Not after the way he tore into me today. And I didn’t do nothin’. I think Spence should go,” he said pointing in Spencer’s direction. “He’s new.”

Spence shrugged his shoulders and started grabbing his gear. Being a pretty easygoing guy and new to the squad, the private was not quite comfortable with voicing his opinion on the unfairness of it. Percell, thinking about all the times that he had lost to Taylor, was annoyed that Taylor was welching on them now and was not about to let it slide.

“Now hold on a minute Spence,” Danny said. “Why should he go Marcus? You lost.”

“I ain’t going Danny. I don’t care what you say, I ain’t.”

Marvin Johnson had enough. “Would you idiots keep it down? I’ll go,” he said, grabbing his helmet, irritated at his friends. “I ain’t going to sleep anyway. Not until Sarge comes back,” he added.

“Damn straight on that,” Percell agreed.

As an officer, Myron understood that he would never be as friendly with his men as they were with each other or with their sergeant for that matter…he was not supposed to be. A lieutenant’s job was to complete the mission and keep his men alive--not be friends with them. Although Myron Goldman accepted that role when he first signed up for OCS, he had not expected this open hostility and lack of respect from his own men. No matter how he tried to ignore it, it bothered him. The young officer was an army brat, son of a general no less, and although he had always been a loner, Myron acknowledged that it was not always by choice. The lieutenant had never made friends easily and on top of all that he was Jewish--Myron Goldman had never felt like “one of the guys.”

“Not much has changed,” Myron thought to himself that night in the bush. It had hit the new lieutenant hard to hear his men talking about him in such a way. It had been more hurtful than he could admit, even to himself…that’s where the anger had come from. The lieutenant never indulged himself in self-pity, considering it to be a sign of weakness. As a result, those feelings always came out as anger. The second lieutenant was known to have a temper and he could be cuttingly sarcastic. Most of the newbies and even some of the more seasoned grunts, would steer clear of the young lieutenant, not wanting to bear the brunt of one of his tirades--especially in front of the other guys. Myron knew this about himself, but often times could not control it, especially when dealing with stupidity.

Just seeing Sergeant Anderson had produced this full-fledged rage in the lieutenant as all the frustrations of the last month came bursting out. Hell, it was not Anderson’s fault that the men liked him or that he was a damn good soldier. Myron knew he was dead wrong treating his sergeant like this. Logically, Lieutenant Goldman acknowledged that the sergeant was doing his job--not trying to make him look bad in front of the men--that part was in his own head.

The lieutenant also knew that he could not undo this or take it back, and he definitely could not apologize, so where did that leave him? If Sergeant Anderson turned against him…the newbie officer did not even want to think about that. The sergeant had been in the army for a long time and Myron could only hope that Anderson would somehow overlook this or chalk it up to inexperience. Thinking about it now, Myron was amazed at the older man’s ability to stand at attention and listen to his foolishness. The lieutenant vowed to try and make it up to the sergeant somehow if given the chance. For now though, Myron lit another cigarette, cursed himself and turned his thoughts to the upcoming mission. Myron Goldman was twenty-two years old and it was his first command. Although he had not expected it to be easy, he had not expected it to be this hard either.

***************************************

Trying to figure out what had happened in the lieutenant’s quarters, Sergeant Anderson walked around the firebase once, pretending to check the perimeter. Zeke really just wanted to clear his head and relieve some of the irritation that had built up since his “meeting” with the CO before checking on the guys.

The men of third squad, second platoon, Bravo Company were sprawled out on their cots, cleaning weapons, loading ammo or just reading magazines. They were going out at 1300. “Y’all ready for this?” Zeke asked as he entered the makeshift barracks, feeling more relaxed all ready, just being with his guys. The sergeant got a few mumbles for his trouble.

“Yeah sure Sarge, we are always ready,” Johnson finally said with little enthusiasm.

“All right now what is the matter with you boys? Zeke asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s that lieutenant Sarge,” Percell mumbled.

“Yeah,” Taylor agreed. “He was by here this morning saying he did not like the way we wired the perimeter yesterday--This is no way to wire a perimeter--Taylor said with his hands on his hips, doing his best Goldman impersonation, the walk and the talk, as the men roared with laughter. Even Zeke was amused; he had to admit that Taylor had the lieutenant down cold. “He said it wasn’t tight enough,” Taylor continued, encouraged by such an appreciative audience. “Any adult could slide through here no problem. This is not acceptable! You will fix it.” Now we are going to have to redo it when we get back.”

“The little tyrant said we were careless Sarge. Do you believe that?” Ruiz chimed in. “Who the hell does he think he is…General Westmoreland?”

“Tell you what Sarge,” Taylor continued. “The boy ain’t going to last long in the bush with that attitude.” The others nodded in agreement. Only Steven Spencer and Andrew Egan, the two new transfers, were quiet.

Zeke wished he were not the sergeant so he could join in with his own Lieutenant Goldman stories. As tempting as it was, Anderson knew better than to openly complain about the CO in front of the men, and he definitely would never let them know what had just happened to him in the lieutenant’s hootch…that would not go over well at all.

“What are you all so worried about? He probably won’t be around long anyway,” Johnson said matter-of-factly, thinking about the fate of the last few lieutenants of second platoon, Bravo Company.

“Knock it off now. I don’t want to hear anymore of that talk. Pack your trash, get your heads together, we hump in an hour,” Sergeant Anderson said firmly. “Oh and boys and girls…that wiring was a half ass job,” he winked. That drew a laugh from the men. Hearing something from their veteran sergeant was not the same as hearing it from their newbie lieutenant.

“Hey you guys are new,” Taylor nodded in the direction of Spencer and Egan. “You’ve been out with us a couple of times now, what do you think of the lieutenant?”

Both of them hesitated, being in agreement that they liked their new CO. They did not know him all that well, but he seemed “by the book” and after what they had been through in their last platoon it was exactly what the pair had been hoping for with the transfer. Andrew Egan shrugged not wanting to get involved or piss the guys off. Spence was a little more forthcoming, “I think you should give the guy a chance,” he said. They admired his honesty and nodded.

“Well everyone is entitled to an opinion,” Johnson conceded. They had all decided they liked their “new guys” the best thing about them being the fact that they were not cherries. Second platoon had been recently beefed up--closer to full strength. That meant newbies…second squad got three and first squad four, so third squad had lucked out, getting the two transfers instead and they were grateful.

“How did you guys end up here anyway?” Taylor asked the two friends.

They were an odd pair. Steven Spencer was a big strapping nineteen-year old from Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Over six feet tall, the private had the tan muscled body of an athlete, which is exactly what he had been back in the world. His thick dark brown hair and deep brown eyes had melted all the girl’s hearts in high school. Spencer had an easygoing personality and an even temperament that instantly put others at ease. He was rarely frazzled.

Steven Spencer possessed another quality that was practically unheard of in the Nam…he never complained. Never…not about the missions, the heat, the leeches, the booby-traps, the officers, the insects or the chow…nothing. It seemed like nothing bothered Steven Spencer. He did drink a lot though and Andy always figured that must be his release. Egan had been soldiering with Spence since they ended up in the same platoon six months ago, and even he had rarely heard his friend utter a negative word… not sober anyway.

Although Andrew Egan was a year and a half older than his friend, he was at least five inches shorter and much slighter in build. Egan’s body was not blessed with a chiseled chest and a stomach with bulging muscles. Andy knew he was strong though and in the best shape of his life--he could feel his muscles even though they were not visible. His brown hair and eyes had certainly never wowed the ladies in high school. Quiet and smart in school, Andy had always figured himself as barely one step up from a nerd. In sharp contrast to Spence’s tranquil attitude, Andrew Egan was above all else a worrier. Andy worried about everyone, but he especially worried about Spence. Egan knew that Spence never worried and he did not think that was right, it was tempting fate--so Andy took up that responsibility…he worried enough for both of them.

Even though Andy and Spence had been in the same platoon for the previous six months, they had only been close friends for the past two. Two months in the Nam though could be a lifetime. Hundreds of people could come and go and live and die in two months.

“Well let’s see,” Andy began, not really sure how much of the story to tell his new Bravo Company buddies, not yet knowing what kind of guys they were. All he really knew about them was that they got along well with each other, they seemed like good soldiers and they did not like their new lieutenant.

The men gathered around the two new guys wanting to hear their story. Interested in hearing something new, something that they had not heard a hundred times before, most of them knew each other’s stories by heart.

Andy told how their old platoon had been out doing a routine sweep near the Delta, when they became engaged in the mother of all firefights. Hopelessly outnumbered, three quarters of their unit had been killed or wounded before support arrived. Andy’s best friend, Jeffrey Duggan, had been killed, as well as Spence’s closest buddies. Afterwards, the platoon was re-formed with new soldiers and a new sergeant. Their lieutenant had survived, but was gung ho and bitter after losing so many of his men. Andy explained how it just was not the same and it hurt too much going out with the new guys, who had never known the old guys. After that Spencer and Egan started pairing up, feeling a natural bond having survived the legendary firefight together.

At this point in the story, Andy paused and glanced at Spence. Spence shook his head “no” ever so slightly; only Andy could read him well enough to catch it. And so Egan ended the story there, saying they both decided that they needed a fresh start, somewhere away from the ghosts of the past. It had taken awhile to get the transfers because the two soldiers wanted to go together. When this assignment finally came up, they jumped at it.

On Spence’s advice, Andy left out the rest of the story. The part about how they both felt that their lieutenant and the rest of the platoon had gone off the deep end. In the Nam, only a very fine line separated right from wrong, acceptable and unacceptable, war and murder. To Andy and Spence, their revamped platoon was fast obliterating that line--at times it seemed like a free for all--anything goes. The overhauled unit was quick to kill and burn villages and harass civilians, with little or no provocation. They had not outright murdered any civilians in cold blood, but both Andy and Spence felt it was only a matter of time. Some of the guys started collecting “war trophies” off the dead--fingers, ears, and tongues, nothing was sacred. Now operating on a revenge at all cost mentality, the two friends wanted out. That was what had brought Andy and Spence together…neither of them had the stomach for what they saw, nor were they interested in desecrating the dead. In fact, both were appalled by it.

Initially, Egan and Spencer had taken the matter up with their captain, but soon realized that the captain approved, although he did not say that in so many words. The company was getting a reputation as a tough unit that could get the job done and although the CO’s words said that he would look into the matter, his eyes said to drop it. Shortly thereafter, the captain had asked the soldiers if they wanted a transfer. With a sigh of relief, the two friends accepted, and eventually ended up here in Bravo Company.

One of the reasons that the two soldiers liked their new lieutenant, was the fact that he did not seem like he would tolerate any of the crap they had put up with in their old platoon. If he was a hard ass so what? They could deal with that--as long as he was smart enough to keep them alive for six more months and did not want them randomly murdering civilians and disrespecting the dead. So far none of the guys in Bravo Company seemed to get off on that sort of thing, but you never knew. Plus, Spence was thinking that it never sounded good to complain about your old platoon to your new platoon. It made you look like a whiner, so they saved that part of their story for another time.

Second platoon was going out for three days to do a routine sweep. Basically that meant to wander around aimlessly and hope like hell you did not run into any companies of NVA or ambushes or BT’s. Sergeant Anderson hated these types of missions. They did not make any sense to him. The missions rarely gathered any useful information; hell they rarely even saw the enemy. What normally happened was that the platoon would lose two or three soldiers to booby traps and/or snipers, WIA or KIA’d and then they would return to the firebase.

The platoon would lose a couple of good men, “and for what?” The sergeant always wondered. It was one thing to patrol around the firebase, that was a necessary evil, but it was another to go out on these senseless Search and Destroy missions with no clear objective. Of course, the experienced sergeant new enough to keep these doubts to himself.

***********************************

While Anderson checked his men, he noticed Lieutenant Goldman hanging back and wondered if the kid was avoiding him, embarrassed by what had taken place earlier in the day. Zeke smiled to himself at the thought of that. The lieutenant would have to face him sooner or later, he was a NCO and a squad leader.

When the sergeant got to the end of the line of soldiers he realized someone was missing. Zeke looked down the line at his squad…Taylor, Johnson, Percell, Baker, Ruiz, Horn, Doc, and Spencer…the new guy. The new guy, that was it, that’s who was missing. Anderson walked up to Private Steven Spencer, “Where is Egan?” he asked, making no attempt to hide his annoyance.

Spence nodded his head towards Graves Registration, “Over there Sarge,” he said.

The sergeant was taken aback; he had just seen Egan less than an hour ago. “What the hell happened to him?” he asked, baffled.

Spencer had been nodding toward the make shift morgue, not realizing what the tent was. “Oh no, not in there Sarge,” he said stifling a laugh, …BEHIND THERE. He loses his lunch before every mission, it’s pretty much a routine.”

“Every time?” Zeke asked, relieved and amazed at the same time.

“Every time.” Spence confirmed.

Just then Andy jogged back to the line and took his place next to Spence. “You okay Son?” Zeke asked, bending down to look directly into the shorter man’s face.

“Yeah Sarge I’m fine,” Andy said flashing a crooked smile that made him appear much younger than his twenty-one years.

Spence turned towards his friend, “Don’t mean nothing,” he said, extending his fist.

“Not a thing,” Egan answered back, tapping Spencer’s fist with his own… their pre mission ritual complete.

“Lord have mercy,” Zeke mumbled under his breath.

“Saddle up,” Goldman yelled to his platoon as the hueys touched down. Anderson decided to let the lieutenant off the hook, not wanting the officer to be distracted by anything in the field.

“Hey Lieutenant,” Zeke yelled walking towards the LT, trying to be heard over the roar of the helicopter. “Nice day for a stroll ain’t it?” Zeke was not sure if it was his imagination, but he swore he saw a barely perceptible release of tension in his CO’s shoulders.

The kid’s voice gave nothing away, “Let’s hope so Sergeant,” he replied tersely.

************************************

The choppers touched down to a quiet LZ and second platoon quickly disappeared into the tree line. The lieutenant met briefly with his squad leaders before heading out into the jungle, reminding them about maintaining noise discipline, keeping up intervals and most especially, keeping track of their newbies. They nodded in agreement. “Sergeant Anderson,” the lieutenant said. “Your squad will be walking point.”

“Yes Sir,” Zeke answered. He knew that, his squad always walked point.

“Have Taylor do it.”

Zeke nodded and broke the news to Taylor, who mumbled a few choice words under his breath before getting underway. After four monotonous hours of nothing but sweat and the buzzing of flies, the platoon stopped for a fifteen-minute rest.

The lieutenant came up along side Anderson. “Sergeant, can anyone else in your squad walk point?” he asked frowning. Goldman had told his men that he would rotate that job between them, since it was the most dangerous position in the bush. The problem was that he really only trusted Johnson and Taylor to be out in front. Ruiz carried the M-60; he did not walk the point. Percell was still fairly new and though he had the makings of a good soldier, he still had a lot to learn. Baker and Horn were out of the question. Johnson was the best at it, a natural, but he had worked in the lead position the last two times out and Goldman had promised him a break. The lieutenant was trying to keep his word.

“What about those new transfers, Sergeant?” Myron asked absently.

“I don’t know Sir,” Zeke answered doubtfully, thinking about Egan puking back at the firebase. “I’ll ask’em.” The lieutenant nodded and went back to his map.

Third squad was sitting together in a little clearing, choking down their

c-rats. Steven Spencer had a stick and was drawing something in the dirt. Percell, Baker, Taylor and Johnson were on the ground hunched over, trying to get a better look. When Zeke squatted down next to his men he could see that the drawing was X’s and O’s, some kind of football play. Spence had drawn the play in the dirt that had netted his high school team the state championship back in Florida. The sports minded had been impressed, except for Baker, who was having trouble understanding the drawing and the play. Spence had already gone over it twice.

Percell thought he would give it a try. With Baker you never knew whose explanation would finally turn on the somewhat dim light in the private’s brain. Percell spoke quietly and patiently while Taylor became more and more agitated, like he did when Baker could not “get” something. “Didn’t you play football you big dumb ass?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah Taylor, but I think I’m looking at this upside down,” Baker whined, tilting his head to one side. “Which side is the defense again Danny?” he asked.

Taylor looked like a vein might pop out of his neck. Zeke interrupted, “Well enough of that, cover that up now before Charlie finds it and figures out a way to win the Super Bowl…Spence,” he added, nodding for the private to follow him. Anderson sat down next to Egan who was cooling down with Horn and Doc discussing the merits of jazz vs. rock n’ roll. Spence joined them. “Yeah Sarge?” he asked.

“You walk point?” Anderson asked directly, wasting no time.

Spence shook his head amused. “Sorry Sarge, I tried it a few times but I’m really not all that observant, so I am not very good at it,” he said suppressing a grin. Here the sergeant was sitting next to the best goddamn point man ever to grace the Nam and he was not even going to ask him. Zeke stood up, anxious to get back to the lieutenant. As an afterthought, the sergeant turned his attention to the small soldier that had been sitting beside him. “Egan?” he asked.

“Sure Sarge,” Andy replied slowly. “I’ll walk the point.” The private stood up to reorganize his gear and get his head together.

Zeke grabbed the young man’s arm. “Now Son, I didn’t ask ya if you would, I asked you if ya could.”

Andy grinned. Andrew Egan was twenty-one years old, but to look at him Zeke would have guessed seventeen or eighteen. “I got it Sir,” he said calmly.

“Don’t worry Sarge,” Spence said reassuringly, turning to face his new sergeant, “Andy knows what he’s doing. He walked point in our old platoon . . .and we did not rotate,” he added.

The lieutenant called for Horn and the radio and called in their coordinates and made his report. “You’re going to let that kid walk point?” the lieutenant asked his sergeant, watching Egan getting ready.

“Yes Sir, the boy claims that was his job with his last platoon. If that’s true he’s lasted six months all ready. I’d say that’s pretty good wouldn’t you? Besides,” Zeke said with a wink, “that kid is almost as old as you are…Sir.”

Lieutenant Goldman nodded choosing to ignore Anderson’s little dig, just hoping that the kid knew what he was doing. They were almost ready to move out. “You want me to take slack Sarge?” Spencer asked, struggling to arrange his heavy pack into a more comfortable position on his back. Anderson paused wondering if he wanted two new guys upfront. “I always watch Andy’s back,” Spence added quietly.

“Well yeah, okay then go ahead,” Anderson relented.

Andrew Egan had been made to walk point as a newbie in the Delta when he first arrived in the Nam. That was common practice with his old platoon. Lieutenant Boyle said that it was SOP…“All FNG’s walk point,” he had told Andy in no uncertain terms while gearing up for his first Search and Destroy mission, only his second day in country. Andy was terrified; he had gone behind the barracks and puked his guts out, the beginnings of what was to become part of his pre mission routine. Four days earlier he had been home in Fairmont, a quiet suburb outside of Pittsburgh, saying good-bye to his mom and dad and little brother and now he was going into the killing jungle to walk the point, his entire platoon depending on him.

Private Egan’s unit was out for twelve days that time and he had survived. A month later when the next FNG came along, Lieutenant Boyle told Andy to take a break--let the newbie do it. The newbie turned out to be Jeff Duggan, Andy’s best friend before being killed in the firefight. The kid was just as scared as Andy had been, wondering how the hell he had gotten into this mess when fellow newbie, Andrew Egan came to his rescue--walking point for him. After that Andy always walked the point. He was not comfortable letting a FNG do it. If something were to happen to the poor new guy Andy knew he would not be able to live with himself… he would feel responsible. It was Lieutenant Boyle’s job to worry about that stuff but the LT did not seem too concerned, so Andy added it to his own, already extensive list of things to worry about.

Andrew Egan had the perfect personality for a point man. He took his responsibility to the guys seriously, knowing that if he made one little mistake it could not only cost him his own life, but worse than that, it could cost someone else theirs. Andy always worried about that so he never daydreamed or lost his concentration for more than an occasional minute…he stayed focused on his job. Private Egan was observant, smart, cautious, and patient when he was out in front and he had developed a natural feel for the jungle that was so intense it was sometimes spooky. That was one reason why it had taken a while for the transfer to come through. Lieutenant Boyle had not been happy about losing the best point man he had ever seen.

After about five clicks Andy got down on one knee and raised his fist and the long snaking line of soldiers came to a halt.

“What is it?” Zeke asked getting to the front of the line just ahead of the lieutenant. “Over there,” Egan said, pointing at a group of trees to the right. The sergeant and the lieutenant both stared ahead, straining to see what the point man was seeing. The lieutenant glanced at Zeke. The sergeant shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t see anything Egan,” Goldman admitted.

“Look up Sir, into the leaves,” Egan said. Percell, Taylor and Johnson had come up behind the group, down on one knee next to Spence and they too were staring at the jungle foliage.

“Yes Sir,” Zeke finally agreed. “Right up there, looks like some kind of explosive device.”

Myron took a step forward to get a better look. Private Andrew Egan reached out and grabbed his lieutenant’s arm with more force than he intended, almost knocking the surprised CO over. “Careful sir,” Andy said quietly, hoping he had not embarrassed the young lieutenant. “There must be a triggering mechanism for it around here somewhere.” Myron nodded, silently cursing himself for his stupidity.

The booby trap had actually been two traps. The explosive and then a pit of camouflaged pungi stakes positioned to trap the one or two poor GI’s who would have rushed to the aid of whoever had been fragged by the first device. Anderson and Jeff Jenkins (from second squad) disarmed the bomb and marked the stakes as the platoon slowly made their way around the BT’s. “Good work Eagan,” Myron said sincerely. “You need a break?”

“I’m fine Sir,” Andy said, wiping the sweat off his dripping forehead with a towel. “It’s what I do best Sir,” he added, without a trace of arrogance.

Some of the other guys added their thanks as well. Private Andrew Egan was clearly uncomfortable by the praise. “Don’t mean nothin’,” he acknowledged softly.

“Let’s get ready to move out,” Myron ordered, breaking up the conversation, hoping to find a suitable NDP (Night Defensive Position) before dark. The soldiers retreated to their places in the formation and the lieutenant slowly made his way back to the middle of the line.

Steven Spencer put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You really okay?” he asked.

Andy nodded, “You got enough crap already.”

“Look at me,” Spence smiled, flexing his bulging arm muscle as proof. I can carry twice this load to hell and back. Give me some more of the ammo. Come on hurry up.” Andy complied.

Spence had been carrying most of Andy’s c-rats and some of his ammo for the last two hours. That was another ritual the two of them shared. It was not that Andy was weak; it was just that he got so tired. When Andrew Egan walked the point his brain was continually working, thinking and analyzing. Not only that, but all of his senses were heightened to a higher level…he had an incredibly keen awareness of everything around him. The private was ever watchful of the sights, sounds, and smells of the jungle. It was remarkable that his concentration was such that he could keep his brain functioning on full alert like that for hours… for as long as he needed to.

Although the mental strain of searching and the constant worrying that he might miss something took place in the mind, the stress of it all exhibited itself in the body. Andrew Egan would feel physically weak and exhausted from the mental fatigue. Spence usually started out carrying about half of Andy’s weight and would take more as the day went on. Today he had not been carrying any of it since neither of them knew that Andy would be walking point. Spencer had taken a small load from his friend when Sergeant Anderson had made his initial request, but not nearly enough. The platoon had not used any ammo yet and had only eaten a couple of cans of chow, so the packs were almost as heavy as when they started out. Normally, when Private Andrew Eagan walked point he would only carry his water and five magazines. Most times, the other grunts would spread out the rest of the point man’s gear and hump it for him.

Spencer had laughed the last time out when the lieutenant had sent Andy on night patrol with the sergeant and a few others. Andy had never been on night patrol before; he had never even been on guard duty. Andrew Egan was the only grunt that Lieutenant Boyle would let sleep through the two hour shifts. Andy always got so tired…and every soldier in the platoon wanted Private Egan well rested and alert in the morning.

The new point man saw and heard things that no one else did. He could spot BT’s (like today) that seemed impossible to detect and he could almost smell an ambush. Spence had walked slack for Andy for the last two months to watch out for him, but also in case he was in need of any of his gear or ammo. Aside from a scout dog, Private Andrew Egan was the best tracker in the Nam. The boy was blessed, he had a gift, and so Spence smiled as he strained under the incredible load he carried on his strong back.

“What the hell are they doing?” Taylor asked, watching Andy pulling out five or six magazines and Spence trying to jam them into his already full pack.

“You would have to be a fool to give away ammo like that,” Rue whispered.

“I don’t know, but looks like he’s giving him his c-rats too,” Percell said shaking his head.

“Hey, I don’t care what they do,” Johnson whispered. “As long as he can locate those BT’s…I never would have spotted that guys,” he confessed.

“You might have,” Danny said, patting Marvin on the back.

Sergeant Anderson reappeared. “Ladies, I hate to break up this social hour y’all are havin’ but if you wouldn’t mind maintaining your intervals maybe we could get moving.”

Taylor glanced over Zeke’s shoulder at the two new guys. What ever they were doing was over, and they looked ready to move out. Zeke came up behind Andy and put his hand on the private’s shoulder. “You okay? You need a break or anything?”

“No Sarge, I’m ready to go,” Andy said steadily, showing no emotion, already refocusing on the task ahead.

“All right then,” Zeke said patting his new troop on the back. “You done good Son, you done real good.” The platoon slowly moved out, once again picking it’s way through the dense, perilous jungle.

************************************

The lieutenant found a good spot for an NDP and the troops set about digging in for the night. It was Sergeant Anderson's habit to check on his men every night when they were out in the bush. He usually made the rounds twice. While they were setting up the perimeter (digging the holes) he would go around and give them advice, "Dig it deep now Son, your life might depend on it." Or he would point out their fire lanes, "There and there, clear out that brush now."

Once they were dug in, secured, Anderson would make the rounds again. Reminding whoever was standing guard to stay alert or to calm the racing heart of a newbie with a little meaningless conversation. More often than not it was a "Hey Johnson, how you doing?" Or "Taylor, you okay?" Zeke would unconsciously place his hand on an arm or shoulder as he spoke to his men. He would get the standard replies, "yeah, yeah Sarge I'm okay." The veteran sergeant did this every night that they were in the bush…it was not required, his only official responsibility was to check the perimeter once the holes were dug and report to the lieutenant that the perimeter was secured. The rest of the ritual was Zeke’s own, developed unknowingly over time. The men were scarcely aware of how much they depended it.

A while back, on a particularly nerve wracking mission that had lasted seventeen days (two KIAs, four wounded) Sergeant Anderson had been out on a night patrol. The men had been so jumpy that as tired as they were, they were unable to sleep.

The next day, bitching amongst themselves about it Johnson noted, "You know what? Maybe I was waiting for Sarge to come by and check on me, you know before I could fall asleep."

The men laughed about it and shrugged it off. They joked with Anderson about it the next day and he had felt somewhat embarrassed, they were right, he did say pretty much the same things every night. That night Anderson walked the perimeter nodding self-consciously to his men as he went by.

Taylor broke the new routine. "C'mon Sarge you know I can't sleep until you ask me if I'm okay?" The others laughed, agreeing with Taylor. Anderson laughed too and played along.

Squatting down next to his troop, the sergeant put a hand on the private’s shoulder and asked, "Taylor, you okay?" And so eventually second platoon got right back into their nighttime routine. The sergeant slept better too, realizing he needed the routine as much as the men did.

It was a dark night as Anderson slowly made his way back to his position.

"How are the men holding up Sergeant?" Lieutenant Goldman asked.

“So far so good Sir,” Zeke replied.

“How about the newbies?”

“Well they’re a little jumpy. I guess only time will tell …LT.” Zeke glanced up at his lieutenant to see how the less formal salutation was going over with his new CO. Lieutenant Goldman had made it clear to his men (on his first day) that they were to address him as Lieutenant or Sir. Myron needed his men to respect him as an officer. The lieutenant figured that he would decide when it was appropriate for them to call him by the universally accepted friendlier version of his rank…LT. The significance of the sergeant using the term now was not lost on the young officer.

“Sergeant…Zeke,” Myron struggled to find the right words forcing himself to look at his sergeant. “What happened this morning…I don’t know what that was all about but I…”

Zeke interrupted him. “Ain’t about nothin’ Sir,” he said with wink.

“You get some sleep LT, I’ll take the first watch.”

“No Sergeant I’ll take the first watch you get some sleep…and that’s an order.”

“I heard that Sir,” Zeke replied resting his head on his pack, cozying up to his M-16 and quickly drifting off.

Myron looked at the soldier sleeping next to him and acknowledged that he had lucked out. Sergeant Clayton Ezekiel Anderson was not only an exceptional soldier and an experienced sergeant, but he was a good man as well and Myron was confident that they would eventually become friends.

Two hours later Myron woke up Anderson to change shifts. “I’ll check on the men first Sir,” Zeke said, almost instantly alert.

Anderson crawled along the perimeter to see how his men were holding up. Everything seemed secure; at least he had not caught anyone sleeping. Zeke came across Spencer and Egan. Spencer was guarding Egan was sleeping. “How you doin’ Spence?” Anderson asked. “You okay?”

“Yeah Sarge I’m fine.”

“Well you look kinda tired…you stay awake now Son you hear me? If you can’t stay awake, you wake up Superman,” he winked, nodding towards Egan. “The little guy with the x-ray vision, got it?”

“Yeah Sarge I got it.” Spence replied good-naturedly.

Spence hoped his sergeant would not be back. The private had no intention of waking up Andy. Spence was hoping to catch an hour or two of shuteye right before dawn, but that would have to do. His best buddy needed his sleep so he could keep them all alive tomorrow. That was an immense burden for any one man and Spence knew that Andy needed all the sleep he could get.

The sergeant had been right about one thing he (Spence) was tired. The temperatures had been in the mid 90’s and Spencer had humped over 100lbs today. Eventually, Spence hoped his platoon would understand how special and valuable their new point man was and they would offer to help lighten his load. But for now, the pack was not getting any lighter (they still had not used any ammo—no complaints there) and the Nam was not getting any cooler, so Steven Spencer silently prayed that he would hold up tomorrow for the sake of his platoon, and for his friend.

The private would not ask them though…he would not say anything. The first day that Steven Spencer arrived in country he had made a promise. The private had vowed that every single morning that he woke up in the Nam, he would understand that the morning was a gift, and he would not utter a single word of complaint that day. For six months the bargain Spencer had struck up was working and he was determined to hold up his end and he thanked his God for it.

************************************

The morning was dawning brightly. Sometimes the sun rose so gorgeous in the Nam it could still take one's breath away--all red and pink against the bluest sky imaginable. It was always the best part of the day. There were rarely any ambushes or firefights at 0600. Best of all it was not hot yet and nobody had been awake long enough to be in a foul mood.

Sergeant Anderson checked his squad and saw Steven Spencer struggling with his pack, straining to position it on his back. Anderson thought it odd that the muscular private seemed to be having so much trouble. Spencer was a big strong kid and Zeke started to wonder if something was wrong with the boy. Taylor and Percell had been watching too, wondering if they should offer some assistance.

Sergeant Anderson came up behind Spence surprising him. “You need help Son?” he asked.

“I’m okay Sarge,” Spence replied automatically.

“Let me give you a hand with that,” the sergeant volunteered, picking up the bulging pack. Anderson was startled. “Now what the hell do you have in here Private Spencer?” Zeke demanded. Taylor and Percell came closer wanting to know the answer to that question themselves. Steven Spencer blushed, but stayed quiet. “I’m talking to you Boy,” the sergeant reiterated, sounding more curious than annoyed.

“Just my gear,” Spence answered quietly, embarrassed knowing he had an audience.

“Well let’s have a look now,” Anderson said, well within his rights as sergeant to check the contents of any of his men’s gear. “Besides it was for the boy’s own good,” Zeke thought to himself.

Anderson was amazed at the amount of ammo, grenades, and claymores the boy was humping. He looked up at Steven Spencer, squinting in the sun, trying to decide if the private was a warmonger or just paranoid. The young soldier did not seem to fit either category. “Well?” Anderson demanded.

Spencer was not sure what to say…the truth—maybe—but maybe not such a good idea. “I just like to be prepared Sarge,” he stammered, knowing he sounded like a complete fool.

“Son there is prepared and then there is just plain stupid…this is stupid.”

Anderson paused, trying to figure out what to do with all the extra stuff. “All right, all right now,” the sergeant continued waving his men over. “We are going to have to help Spence with this stuff or the boy is going to pass out from heat exhaustion.” The guys grumbled and shot Spencer some dirty looks, they carried enough weight as it was, they did not need or want anymore.

Spencer could see Andy coming up behind Sergeant Anderson. He tried to will him away, but of course that did not work. “What’s going on?” Andy asked the complaining group of soldiers.

“Your buddy decided to bring the entire munitions dump with him and now we got to help him out,” Taylor complained.

“No, that’s my stuff,” Andy said easily, hoping to clear the air. “He’s just helping me out.”

“Andy just gets really… tired,” Spencer said, grasping for the right word. “You know carrying all this crap,” he tried to explain, knowing how idiotic that sounded.

A look of confusion passed over Sergeant Anderson’s face and was quickly replaced by a rare flash of anger. “Tired?” He asked incredulously. “We are all tired. Now look here you two, I don’t know how things worked in your old platoon and to tell you the truth I don’t much care, but here in my platoon we hump our own, you got that soldiers?” Zeke wondered what their game was. Whatever it was it was dangerous, heat exhaustion or sunstroke could compromise the whole mission, not to mention lives.

“Yes Sir,” they both answered quickly, embarrassed that their new squad thought they were trying to get away with something or somehow shirk their responsibilities by pushing them off on others.

An irritated Lieutenant Goldman approached the circle of soldiers. That was one thing the men did like about the lieutenant…you never had to wonder what he was thinking. “Is there a problem here Sergeant?” Myron asked wondering what the hell was going on with third squad. “We are all ready to move out—ARE YOU?” he continued, unable to mask the sarcasm in his voice.

Now it was Anderson’s turn to be embarrassed. “Yes Sir Lieutenant,” he replied quickly. “Let’s move it out,” he repeated the order to his men. They hustled to get in position, not wanting to agitate their young lieutenant further and sorry they had disappointed their sergeant.

“You give Egan what’s his now,” Anderson said harshly to Spence when the lieutenant was out of earshot. “Taylor you got the point. Percell slack. Let’s move it out.” Zeke figured he would stick with his own guys from now on.

After four grueling hot hours of humping, second platoon came to the trail on the map that they had been ordered to check out. The trail looked distinct and well used. Myron peered down it, a worried expression on his tanned face. The lieutenant ordered a water and chow break for his platoon and called for Sergeant Anderson “What do you think?” Myron asked hesitantly.

Zeke looked at the LT’s concerned face and felt good about being asked. It was the first time since they began working together that the lieutenant seemed to genuinely want his advice. Goldman was not asking out of respect or to appease the guys, he truly wanted to hear the experienced sergeant’s opinion.

“Well LT you can pretty much bet it’s mined.” Zeke answered knowingly.

“That’s what I thought,” Myron agreed. “We can’t go around, our mission is to mark the trail.”

“Then I suggest we take it real slow and easy in there,” Zeke said.

“Okay,” Myron said already forming a plan in his head. “We will send two men up the trail to advance scout, maybe a couple of hundred yards or so. It will give us time in case of an ambush and it might keep the newbies from doing something stupid.”

Zeke nodded in agreement.

“Have Egan scout up front,” the lieutenant ordered. When Zeke did not respond right away Myron added teasingly, “You remember Egan, Sergeant… the kid who is almost as old as me.” Zeke smiled at Goldman’s joke, he had never thought of the LT as having a sense of humor before. Zeke was liking his new CO more and more and hoped he could keep him alive longer than he had his last two lieutenants.

“Egan, you’re gonna scout this trail for us… maybe 200 yards or so,” Zeke explained, as per the lieutenant’s orders. “Johnson you go with him.”

Johnson moaned about his dangerous assignment. “I’ll go Sarge,” Spence said hopefully.

“No, Private you’re with me. I’m gonna keep my eye on you Boy,” Zeke replied, still not sure what to make of his new soldiers.

Myron made his way up the line to make sure the lead soldiers understood what he wanted to do. They both listened patiently…they understood their role; both had been in the jungle a lot longer that their lieutenant. “All right, nice and slow then,” Goldman finished to Egan and Johnson. The lieutenant then turned to his squad leaders, “Absolute noise discipline,” he ordered. They all nodded in agreement as second platoon gave the scouts a few minutes head start before moving out down the trail.

The going was slow and tedious and the platoon had to keep stopping because they kept catching up to the scouts. The men were quiet but the jungle was not. All the buzzing and screeching just added to the anxiety and apprehension, as the soldiers silently made their way down the path. The sun had no mercy, and was producing a blistering heat that caused sweat to pour down the faces and burn the eyes of the inexperienced, who had not thought to bring a towel. The tension and humidity combined to make the air so thick it was an effort just to breathe. This was as bad as it got in the Nam. Humping in 100 degrees plus, in the jungle up a known NVA trail, waiting for the first shots of an ambush to ring out or a well placed BT to blow up in your face. The newbies, as well as some of the more seasoned grunts, were becoming unnerved.

Finally Johnson made his way back to the main body of soldiers. They stopped and waited for the lieutenant. “Egan’s got something,” Johnson reported. “He wants you to check it out Sir.”

Myron took Percell with him up the trail and left the protesting Sergeant Anderson with the rest of the unit. Anderson took a knee next to Johnson, “What is it?” he whispered.

“I didn’t see nothin’ Sarge,” Johnson conceded, shaking his head.

Myron found Egan down on one knee, his pack next to him drinking water from his canteen. “What is it Egan?” he whispered. The private pointed out some markings that led him to believe someone had very recently been down the trail. Myron did not really see much but was willing to trust the kid after yesterday. “How recently?” Myron asked.

“Maybe an hour Sir, maybe less.”

Myron frowned not sure what that meant. Were the NVA setting up an ambush further down the trail, lying in wait for them, or had they simple passed by, totally unaware of the Americans presence? And how many of them were there? Even the gifted point man did not seem to know the answer to that question. The lieutenant realized that Percell and Egan were staring at him, waiting for the their orders--scared--hoping that he knew what he was doing. “Percell, get the rest of the men up here,” Myron said as confidently as he could. “I think it’s time to send out a patrol.”

Percell jumped up. “Yes Sir,” he replied, glad to have something to do and relieved that the lieutenant sounded so sure of himself. The rest of the platoon came into view. Lieutenant Goldman quietly met with the squad leaders and sent Anderson out with Taylor, Ruiz, Baker and Percell to see if they could spot anything. The rest of the men lay hidden in the thick brush on both sides of the trail and waited.

*************************************

“Lieutenant,” Johnson whispered, lightly touching his CO’s shoulder. Goldman’s whole body involuntarily jumped with surprise. He had not heard Johnson creeping closer to him.

“Dammit Johnson,” Myron whispered.

“Sorry Sir,” Marvin said, suppressing a smile despite the circumstances.

“Cahill wants to see you. He says one of the newbies is losing it and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep him quiet.” Johnson pointed out their general direction.

Myron made his way over to the squad leader and the cherry. Cahill was a big Spec 4, a ten-month veteran redneck from Arkansas who was known as a fairly competent soldier, but not much in the brains and personality department. The squad leader was almost sitting on top of the poor kid and had his hand over the newbie’s mouth. Myron desperately wished Anderson were here…this was the type of situation the sergeant excelled at. Knowing that he was not yet much of a comfort to his men, Myron was not exactly sure how to handle this. The lieutenant knew that he usually scared the newbies more than anything else. The officer decided he would try pulling rank on the kid.

Goldman nodded to let the cherry up. “What’s going on here soldier?” he asked sternly.

The newbie sat up and looked at the lieutenant. “I…I…j j just want to go home Sir,” he stuttered.

The boy’s appearance took Myron aback. The kid was small and young and it was hard to believe that he was old enough to be fighting a war. The uniform looked too big and the M-16 the boy held in his hand seemed wrong and out of place. The newbie had black hair that was standing straight up, still growing in from his last buzz cut, but what had really unnerved the lieutenant was the boy’s face and eyes. The face was so youthful that it was still unmarked by any line of worry or hint of hardness. Even though the newbie’s eyes were filled with tears, Myron could see that they were blue and clear and totally innocent.

Myron glanced at the kid’s fatigues to get his name. “Wasson,” he said, “How many times have you been out?”

“This is my first time Lieutenant,” Wasson replied. “I just got here yesterday Sir,” he added.

“What’s your first name?” Myron whispered quietly.

“Rudy Sir,” the private answered, keeping his eyes locked on his lieutenant, eagerly waiting for him to say something that would somehow make this better.

“Rudy, this is a really tough mission for your first time out,” Myron found himself gently saying. “You will be okay. It will get easier, just stay with the guys for now and do what they do…you’ll be fine.” Myron gave the kid a pat on the shoulder. Rudy nodded appreciatively.

Spec 4 Cahill and some of the other soldiers of first squad were shocked. They were expecting the lieutenant to get in the newbie’s face and quietly “tear him a new one.” It was disappointing… they hated the newbies.

“I’m s s sorry Lieutenant…you must be really b b busy,” Rudy whispered sincerely as Myron got up to leave.

Myron looked at the kid closely to make sure he was calmed down enough to be left alone. The boy’s eyes were red from crying and his fatigues were damp, he had obviously wet himself, other than that he seemed fine. The lieutenant nodded to the young private and felt a lump forming in his own throat as he made his way back to his position. For the first time Myron felt the full weight of the burden of command--he felt it in his chest and his stomach…the awesome responsibility for these men that was his alone to bear.

About an hour later Anderson and his squad returned with good news. The NVA were about an hour down the trail. They were planning an ambush but third squad had “caught them with their pants down” as Zeke put it. There were six of them and the sergeant was confident that they had gotten them all.

“Good work Sergeant,” Myron answered professionally, trying to contain his excitement. “All right let’s move out,” he ordered. “Egan,” he said, calling for his skilled point man. Andrew Egan was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Egan?” the lieutenant asked looking at Anderson.

“Don’t look at me Sir, I was out partying with Charlie remember?”

“Private Spencer,” Anderson asked. “Where is that buddy of yours? He’s not out upchucking somewhere now is he?”

When Zeke saw the worried look on Spence’s face he quit the joking. “I don’t know Sarge,” Spence replied. “I’ve been looking for him too.”

Goldman and Anderson exchanged puzzled glances. Before they had a chance to say anything Percell yelled, “Over here Lieutenant.”

Goldman, Anderson and Spencer ran over to where Percell was pointing. Egan was lying face down on the ground. “Doc get over here,” Anderson urged.

Kneeling down, Doc felt for a pulse. Egan rolled over, sat up and rubbing his eyes asked, “What’s going on?”

Doc got up, trying to figure out how to break this to the strict, new lieutenant. He decided the direct approach would be best. “Uh… he was uh… sleeping Sir.”

Taylor and Percell looked at each other in amazement. “Sleeping? I’ll be damned,” Danny said.

“That man is my hero,” Taylor said enthusiastically, suppressing a laugh. Even Zeke was amused. Myron was not sure what to say, knowing they would be walking into an ambush right now if not for the supernatural talents of Private Egan, so he realized that he needed to let this slide. Myron thought about the tension that had been so heavy in the air--the waiting and the wet fatigues of Rudy Wasson and decided that Andrew Egan must have nerves of steel.

When Egan became more alert and realized where he was he snapped to attention. “Sorry Sir,” he blushed.

“We will talk about this later Egan. You ready to move out?”

The men laughed quietly among themselves thinking about how the little guy had actually gotten away with it. Falling asleep right in the middle of all of this shit. Taylor was right, Egan was a hero and quick becoming a legend to the young soldiers of Bravo Company. Steven Spencer was not laughing. Spence could not imagine how tired Andy must be to fall asleep like that in the middle of the jungle. The way his buddy was always worrying about everything and everybody, it must have been more like passing out than dozing off. Spence hoped and prayed that Andy could maintain his concentration and get them all down the trail and out of this miserable jungle alive.

“Yes Sir,” Egan answered his lieutenant sheepishly.

“Same as before. Egan you will scout out front two hundred yards or so. Percell you go with him. Rest of you men shut up and watch your intervals.”

Myron found himself thinking about Egan, sleeping on the jungle floor, and about the newbie, Rudy Wasson, and wondered how the kid was holding up. “Hell, some stuff they just cannot prepare you for in OCS,” he conceded. No wonder the veterans were so hesitant to put their trust in him. There were just too many variables that no amount of training could prepare you for.

Giving the scouts a few minutes head start, the rest of the squad moved out. Myron waited as the soldiers passed by, looking for Wasson. The boy looked surprising better this time around, as he moved down the trail with his squad. Wasson smiled at the lieutenant as he went past him. The smile only served to support Myron’s first assessment of the young private--Rudy Wasson was really just a little boy.

After about an hour of hiking in the relentless heat, Percell returned to the main body and met Johnson who was walking point for the rest of the platoon. “Hold it up,” Percell announced. “Egan spotted a wire.”

Percell led Goldman and Anderson down the trail, where Egan was down on one knee, his gear in the brush next to him. “Where?” Goldman asked. Egan pointed it out to him. “Get Jenkins up here to disarm it,” the lieutenant ordered Anderson.

“Yes Sir,” Zeke answered staring at Egan. Andrew Egan looked exhausted. The point man was soaking wet and breathing hard, even down on one knee. What had Spencer said…he always gets so tired. Zeke was not sure what it all meant, or what to do about it, so he continued on his mission of bringing back Jenkins.

“Good work Egan,” Myron encouraged, staring at the small young soldier who was really just a year younger than he was. Egan nodded slightly, but did not look up. Myron hated to ask his next question, afraid of the answer, but knew that he had to anyway. “You need a break Egan?” he asked, holding his breath.

Andy looked at his lieutenant, he did not want to let him down but he was drained, and did not want to make a mistake either. “I am a little tired Sir,” he conceded.

“That’s okay Egan,” the lieutenant acknowledged. “I know that Sergeant Anderson said you always walked point with your old platoon, that’s why I worked you so hard. If you need a break though, you need a break, it’s okay.”

“It worked a little differently in my old unit Sir,” Andy nodded miserably.

Sergeant Anderson came back with Jenkins and once again the private expertly began the process of diffusing the explosive.

Zeke looked at Egan and shook his head in wonder. “That boy is somethin’ else LT. Three tours in the Nam Sir, and I ain’t ever seen nothin’ like it.”

“Yeah, well unfortunately the boy needs a break. I thought you said he always walked point in his old platoon.”

Zeke paused thinking things over. “He did Sir but I think his platoon… helped him out a lot.”

“Helped him out? What do you mean helped him out?”

“Well LT, this morning Private Spencer was trying to carry all of Egan’s gear for him, that’s what that hold up was. Now I just thought he was maybe paying him or something but the boy is little, maybe he can’t hump that much weight…I don’t know. Another thing Sir, the last time out, I took Egan on patrol and he said it was his first time out on a night patrol. I did think that was odd since the boy’s been in the Nam over six months.”

Myron did not like the idea of one of the men not pulling their own weight anymore than Zeke did, but this was different. Second platoon had not suffered a single injury since they had been out and both men were smart enough to understand that they had Andrew Egan to thank for that. “It’s okay with me Sergeant. The boy has a sixth sense. I don’t know about you, but I want Private Egan in front of me.”

“I hear that Sir,” Zeke replied. “It was him that figured out that ambush LT and he was right. Hell, right about now, I’d hump his gear for him.”

Myron smiled. “Talk to him, see what he has to say.”

Goldman and Percell stayed to stand guard for Jenkins while Sergeant Anderson went back to have a chat with Private First Class Andrew Egan.

Zeke sat down next to Andy; Spence was on the other side of him. “Hey Egan, how ya feeling now Son?” he asked.

“Okay Sarge,” Egan replied without much enthusiasm. Taylor happened by.

“Hey Superman, don’t fall asleep now we need ya bro,” he laughed. Andy smiled weakly.

“Well now,” Zeke started. “Me and the LT been talking about this here situation and we was thinking maybe it’s not such a bad idea to help ya out with your gear.” Zeke glanced at Spence and continued, “What else did your last platoon do to keep ya from getting this tired?”

Andy looked at Spencer, so Spence answered for him. “Well Sarge,” he said slowly. “We all humped Andy’s gear. He only carried some water and a couple of clips.” Zeke nodded. “And he never guards Sarge, he needs his sleep.”

“That’s why he wasn’t use to night patrol?”

“Yes Sir,” Andy whispered, this time answering for himself. “Sarge I ain’t trying to be no prima donna here, I just can’t do it if I get too tired. I’m sorry,” he added sadly.

“Sorry?” Zeke repeated. “Boy, you got nothing to be sorry for. I’d guess you saved our ass three or four times out there today. I don’t think anybody’s gonna mind helping you out.” Zeke paused before asking the question he was sent to ask. “So a…Egan, if we can do all this for ya, then do you think you can go back out there one more time and get us out of this damn jungle before dark?”

“I’ll try Sarge,” Andy answered wearily.

The lieutenant seemed as relieved as the rest of the guys when he got the news that Egan was, once again, willing to lead them down the trail. This time Spencer went with Andy. Zeke figured maybe they could help each other out. During the next two hours Andy spotted one more ingenious BT that they quickly dismantled without any casualties before finally emerging from dense jungle. They all exhaled a sigh of relief. “Let’s not relax now,” Lieutenant Goldman sharply ordered his troops. “Stay alert.”

Another hour and Lieutenant Goldman found a suitable NDP. The men wearily started digging in for another night. Zeke made the rounds and sent Percell to help Spence and Andy with the digging and guarding. Then he returned to his own foxhole with the lieutenant.

“I think I’ll go check on the men Sergeant,” Myron said.

“I just checked on the men Sir,” Zeke replied confused. “They’re fine.”

“I don’t need a reason to check on my own men do I Sergeant?” Myron snapped, annoyed, not wanting to explain his every move to the sergeant.

“No Sir, you sure don’t,” Zeke answered, wondering what he had said to put the temperamental officer in a bad mood.

Myron crept along the perimeter saying a few words to his soldiers, but he was really looking for Rudy Wasson. He came upon him in a foxhole with another newbie. That was one thing that Myron really hated--the way his men treated the FNG’s. The lieutenant understood it in a way, but it needed to stop.

Lieutenant Goldman knew that he could not order the veterans to help the kids out anymore than he could order them to be friends, but he could order them to do things that made sense strategically. This for example--two newbies first time out sharing a foxhole. This could conceivably endanger the whole platoon if one or both of them lost it. Myron decided he was definitely going to talk to Cahill and the rest of his squad leaders about this. “Hey Wasson,” he whispered. “How are you doing?”

“Pretty nervous Sir,” the kid answered honestly. “I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.”

“Just remember that you are not alone out here. We are all out here with you,” Myron said, adding, “With any luck we’ll be back on the base tomorrow.”

Rudy nodded. “Thank you Sir. Me and Kenny,” he said pointing to the cherry sitting next to him, “We were just saying how lucky we are to have such a smart lieutenant. We were both worried about that but not anymore. I’m gonna write my mom and tell her about you and the guys and tell her not to worry about me.”

The kids admired him; they had confidence in his decisions. Myron could see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices. It seemed odd after receiving such a cold reception from the veterans, most of whom were still reserving judgment on the rightness of his orders. Myron was not sure he had ever met a kid as sincere and vulnerable as Private Rudy Wasson. It was disarming. “Get some sleep,” he ordered, feeling like an old man.

The lieutenant better understood why it was best to let the sergeants deal directly with the men…why he needed to maintain some distance. Myron could not imagine ordering Private Wasson to search an enemy hootch or climb into a tunnel. “I’m gonna write my mom and tell her about you.”

Making his way back to his position, the lieutenant collapsed next to Anderson. “Everything okay Sir?” Anderson asked.

“Fine Sergeant, get some sleep.”

Myron felt more comfortable and smiled when his sergeant answered with his now familiar standard, “I heard that Sir,” before dozing off.

The morning held no surprises and second platoon was choppered out at 0800, still in time to catch some real chow at the base. It was all relative.

Anderson watched his men laughing as they made their way to the mess hall and wished he could join them. The sergeant still had to attend the briefing with Lieutenant Goldman, Captain Wallace and Major Rigby. Zeke was dead tired, but would try his best to look interested while the LT went over the details of the mission, and the major and the captain asked their questions. The officers rarely asked for the sergeant’s input and after so many years in the army, the NCO knew enough to keep his mouth shut whenever possible. Zeke just hoped the briefing would end before the mess hall closed--it would be close he calculated.

“Anderson,” the LT said, startling Zeke from his thoughts. Myron was thinking of the best way to phrase what he wanted to say.

Anderson waited a few seconds before asking, “Sir?”

“Zeke, I’m going to take one of the newbies from first squad and give him to you. Have him bunk with your guys everything…starting now, today.”

“Can I ask why LT?”

“They got too many newbies that’s all. It shouldn’t be a problem, your squad doesn’t have any,” Myron said, trying not to sound irritated.

“Yes Sir, I’ll grab one after the briefing.”

Myron stopped and the Anderson stopped with him. “The newbie that is changing to your squad is named Wasson, Rudy Wasson. Got that Sergeant?”

“Yes Sir, Wasson, I got it Sir,” Zeke answered, too tired to ask any more questions.

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To be continued