PART 1 of 2.

They were taking fire.  The chopper pilot fought for control a few feet above the ‘LZ’ or landing zone.  Five recruits ‘new meats’ leapt for their lives and taking a lead from their experienced comrades raced, doubled over, towards makeshift bunkers.

Tony Fererase had lived in both excited anticipation and dread of this moment, when he would first see action.  He had been in Vietnam two months.

He hit the dusty ground as the first mortar landed, sending chunks of burning metal and ruptured earth scything through the torrid air.  To his left Sid, his friend since boot camp and a ‘new meat’ like himself, cried out in pain.  The need to help his friend overrode his fear, he ran to him.  Blood poured from an ugly would below his jawbone.  Tony screamed out for a medic.  His cries for help could not be heard above the whirling rotor blades of the choppers sweeping in and racing away again.  The down blast from the chopper blades threw tornados of dust at them and almost lifted Tony off his feet, as he knelt beside his wounded friend.  He grabbed Sid’s arm, hauled it across his shoulder and yanked him unceremoniously to his feet. 

Weighted down by his semi conscious friend, Tony staggered towards the nearest bunker he could make out.  Weighted down by his friend, it seemed to Tony that ever step he took towards safety, left them not nearer but further from the bunker.  The zing of incoming bullets and blast of mortar shells were answered by a massive, deafening and intensity of return fire from the American defenders.  The horrendous noise made it impossible for Tony to hear the last rasping breath leave Sid’s body. 

The bunker immediately to the right of the one he was headed for took a direct hit.  It erupted; flames, sandbags, fragmented metal and bodies shot skywards.  He felt the scorching heat blast and in the same instant was lifted off his feet and hurled through the air.

When he began to slowly regain consciousness, Tony became aware of having had the worst nightmare of his short life.  He remembered trying to run from some great unseen danger, but no matter how fast he ran, he remained rooted to a blood soaked spot.  He felt rivulets of sweat roll down his brow at the memory.  An unseen, formless assailant had been trying to stab at him.  The acrid smell of burning filled his nostrils, its effect, like smelling salts, forced him awake.

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