It was gloomy, hot and airless on the floor of the triple canopy forest. The thirteen men were traversing an animal trail, no wider than their footfalls, and steeply up or down in the rugged mountainous terrain. They moved slowly, quietly, observing noise discipline. Dog tags were taped together so they wouldn't rattle, nothing was in the pockets that might jingle. Even canteens were plastic to reduce any noise if they hit something. They moved along at the required interval. In the jungle that meant about 5 meters apart. Just close enough that you could see the Marine ahead, most of the time. Camouflage uniforms clung to bodies with accumulated sweat from the sweltering summer heat and humidity. They stopped for ten minutes every hour, to replenish water loss and rest from the strenuous exercise.
The squad had been flown in to Firebase Charlie in Marine Helos. The 105MM howitzers of the Firebase would cover their retreat if they needed aid later in the night. They disembarked, formed up and immediately walked through an opening in the concertina wire, across the open defensive area, and into the forest. This was their hunting ground, and they were good at what they did. Every man had scored expert on the known distance firing range with his rifle, and they all had experience shooting at real live targets who shoot back, which is much tougher than shooting at an immovable bullseye target.
The sergeant was proud of these men, although he would never think of telling them that. He'd had all of them, save one, for at least 3 months and they were trained to a razors edge. They knew exactly what he wanted in all situations, at all times, so there was very little need for yelling. The newby could be a pain in the ass at times, but he was learning quickly to watch the others and ape their behavior. If he could survive the learning phase his chances of living through his thirteen month combat tour would greatly increase. A Marine could be killed at any time, but survival rates went up the longer he was in combat.
Today's mission was a simple one, if not easy. Ambush patrol. The art of the ambush was finding a good place to set up, where his men would be protected, yet they would have open fields of fire. The squad was working its way through the jungle toward an off-shoot of the Ho Chi Minh trail in northern South Vietnam, almost within shouting distance of Laos to the west and the Demilitarized Zone to the north. In I Corps to be exact, Quang Tri Province, home of the 1st MarDiv, along with thousands of NVA. This was one of the trails that supplied the North Vietnamese Army regulars who were trying to push the Marines back to the coast. It would never happen, the Sergeant thought, but they were welcome to try. He loved killing gooks. Made his day!
The point man, Lance Corporal Johnson, whose job was to lead the squad, looking for signs of the enemy, and especially for booby traps, was two people ahead of the Sergeant. He turned and raised his left arm, hand clenched in a fist, to signal a stop. Every man repeated the signal to the man behind him as the Sergeant worked his way forward, with his radioman in trail, to find out the problem.
"Sarge, I think we're close", whispered the point man.
"I can see that Johnson", replied Sergeant Roche. He looked back, raised his arm with fingers extended and palm outward, to tell the others to hold position. Again the hand signal was passed back up the line.
"Come with me", he whispered to Johnson and the radioman.
The three slowly worked their way two hundred meters down the slope to within about five meters of the trail, which was about five meters wide, but well concealed by the tree cover above. The sergeant was about the same distance from the trail, inside the treeline, and because of the extra light the trail afforded, the undergrowth was thicker here than deeper in the wood. He studied the area to left and right. and determined this was as good a place as any to set up. He motioned the point man to return and bring the squad down, so he could place them. Johnson nodded his understanding and began working his way quietly back up the hill.
