A low fog clung to the camp and it didn’t begin to lift until noon. I saw General Deng for a half a second, but suddenly he thought of something and returned to his bunker. I wondered what Pink was doing. There was no way of knowing if he had his shit together or not. I was determined to make the shot the next time I laid my eyes on Deng’s skinny ass. I wanted to get out of that place before I froze to death.

At 1530 hours a truck carrying rockets rumbled into the camp and a number of people emerged from the bunker to inspect it. Finally, General Deng came hobbling out of the headquarters. The sight of the rockets seemed to give him a great deal of pleasure. As his face cracked into a wedge of a smile, a glimmer of sunlight reflected off of the General’s gold bridgework. I drew a bead on his narrow chest and waited. Suddenly the General took a half-step back on his short leg and then dropped without a sound. The NVA aides standing with the General were busy inspecting the rockets. Deng collapsed of old age. One of the aides knelt down to lift the General’s head when he saw that most of it was gone. The aides scurried, and in seconds a warning siren went off. I knew that in moments the woods would be crawling with NVA. But then came the sound of the nightingales exploding to the north of the transport truck. It sounded like a small war was coming down into the valley, and the NVA did just what anyone would reasonably do. They hunkered down before their guns and poured out a “mad moment” in the direction of the nightingales. By luck, a loose RPG round hit the truck, setting off an explosion that rocked the earth. By this time Pink and I were highballing down the speed trail. A two-man NVA security team stepped out of a small grass duty hut; but our machine gunner, Pfieffer, cut them both down with short bursts from his .60. I hated the fact that he was making noise, but it had to happen. More NVA began to appear, but the team was all up and moving now. In a moment a series of small explosions was heard as the claymores the team had planted were tripped. As we continued to run we heard the anguished squeals and high-pitched bellowing of dogs along with the more familiar cries of grievously wounded men.