Pink was ahead of me running alongside a pair of unarmed NVA who had just dropped a container of rice. Both of the men wore thick tortoiseshell spectacles and were clearly noncombatants. I watched the three run in unison for a second, then, in spite of my heavy gear, broke past them like a man hell-bent on the finish line. A few seconds later both of the dinks passed me with a look of terror on their faces. Motherfuckers looked like dinks with Down syndrome. As they increased their lead, Pink raised his carbine and placed two rounds into the base of each man’s skull. It was the best kind of one-handed “John Wayne” shooting I had ever seen.

Then Ondine was up running alongside me, laughing his ass off. “Man, what kind of stupid-ass shit was that?”

“They were unarmed,” I said, panting for breath. “It didn’t seem right.”

“Tell me the last time Charles cut you a line of slack,” Ondine said.

“Tell me the last time Captain Barnes cut us any,” I said. “Everybody in this for-shit country is out to fuck us, Ondine. I mean fucking everyone.”

“Tell me about it,” Ondine said.

In moments the team gathered at the streambed that led back to our primary LZ. Everyone was accounted for except for Felix. The sound of small arms fire from behind began to pick up. Suddenly Felix T., with his long stride, came galloping down the rocky creekbed. In addition to his rifle and gear, he was packing a PRC-25 radio and two bandoliers of .60 ammo. As he passed by, Ondine began to laugh hysterically again. I said, “Christ, Ondine, what’s so goddamn funny?”

Ondine was hysterical, which wasn’t like him. I wondered if Ondine was going to maintain or not. He was pointing at Felix. “Yeah,” I said, “the retard Olympics. It’s a regular side-splitter.”

Up ahead Felix slipped on a mossy rock and went sliding down the wet rocky bed. He looked like a man trying to make a hook slide into home plate. Suddenly there was a flat, muffled explosion and Felix T. gave out a sharp piercing scream. A white phosphorus grenade attached to his web gear had become unpinned as he fell. By the time Ondine and I reached him, he was holding on to his chest. Blood was spurting from his uniform. Ondine pulled his shirt back. “Lung,” he said.

“I’m fuckin’ burnin’ up,” Felix said through gritted teeth. The white phosphorus continued to burn within his flesh. Ondine looked him over, not knowing where to start. Felix was covered with holes. He cried, “Burnin’ up, do something! Get me a fuckin’ medic, Jesus!”