That afternoon, we are patrolling through an old, abandoned French rubber tree plantation. Suddenly, all hell breaks loose. We hear bullets whizzing by most appear to be at kneecap level. Some of our troops return fire even though they can’t see the enemy. The lieutenant orders everyone to hit the dirt. Looking around, I see
nothing suitable to hide behind; nothing but flat ground rubber
trees and brush. Instead of risking a head wound by being in a prone position, I decided my chances would be better presenting my legs as a smaller target. So, I concealed myself standing up behind a rubber tree. A rubber tree probably will not even slow down a round let alone stop it, but at moments like this, the feeling of security is paramount. Bul lets continue to streak around us, some of them are tracers. I opened fire with my M-16, firing off short bursts in the direction of an enemy machine gun even though I had no visible target.
Strangely, I became aware that the noise was fainter and fainter. My senses are so focused to the area in front of me that my peripheral vision is almost nonexistent. I no longer could hear. My vision narrowed to a small area directly ahead of me, like I cit. ould have put my hands together in a small circle over the front of my face and I could see inside the circle but not around it. Abruptly,
I became cognizant that I am suffering from tunnel vision. I had heard of the term before but never experienced it. I shake my head vigorously and my faculties return. How scarry!
I had never experienced tunnel vision before, but I was aware of the phenomena. And its catastrophic potential. The senses become so focused in a survival mode that nothing outside the perceived danger zone, absolutely nothing else, is transmitted in the brain. An enemy soldier can walk up right alongside someone who is suffering tunnel vision syndrome, and he’ll never know Tunnel vision is for real.
I hear the lieutenant conversing on the radio. He orders that we cease fire. The unseen enemy machine gun is between us and the 2nd platoon. We can’t fire on the enemy without risking shooting our own soldiers. The lieutenant motions me over. “Take your squad and get that machinegun; it is killing us!” Quickly, I round up my squad, and we head in the direction of the gun; It is still barking with staccato bursts.
A few meters out, I motioned for my men to take cover in a narrow ravine, a dry creek bed. It is about four feet deep and its meandering appears to go in the general direction we need to proceed. As much as I would like to take cover myself, it is apparent that I will never be able to determine a dead reckoning to the gun once we start making all those serpentine corners. I motion for my men to move forward while I advance on the high ground towards the din. There were no rounds aimed at us so obviously, we have not been observed.
My men think I am nuts and in hushed shouts they plead for me to join them. However, there is no way that I can seek cover in the crek bed and hope to maintain my orientation towards the machine gun. I’m not sure at this point, I wonder if my actions demonstrate bravery or foolishness. It doesn’t matter; there’s a job that needs to be done. Besides, I had been convinced by now that God has sent my Guardian Angle to protect me full time. God must have a mission for me some time, some place, that I am to fulfill later.
The machine gun stops abruptly. We are closing in. I want to get there before the 2nd platoon which undoubtedly has sent out a team to destroy the machine gun as well. We do not need for the two teams to converge and mistakenly start shooting at each other.
Also, I am praying the VC have run out of ammunition as opposed to their being aware of our close proximity and quietly waiting in ambush.
Just ahead, I spot a shiny pile of spent brass in a clearing. Next to it is an empty GI ammo can, no machine gun, no VC. Obviously, the VC had run out of ammunition and decided to abandon their position. Cautiously we listened for the noise of them retreating. Nothing, and no idea of which direction, except not ours. I reported the situation to the lieutenant over the radio. Since I had anticipated that he would order us to try to locate the VC, I added that they had left iin an unknown direction. Quite possibly, the VC had ducked underground in a concealed tunnel. They were good at that.
The VC usually do not leave anything behind that they can recycle so we knew they had left in a big hurry. Spent brass can be reloaded or used as shrapnel in IEDs. Perhaps they planned to retreat later. As much as we wanted to clean up the brass and place it an ammo can, we did not do it due to the probability of it being booby trapped with a grenade. It was too great to risk. I hated to give the VC the opportunity to retrieve the brass.
Upon returning to the platoon, we check for casualties; none. I overheard the platoon leader of the 2nd platoon reporting they have casualties and requests chopper evacuation.
The Cost of Conflict
As of tonight, President Trump may speak again. He has been trying,with all of those around him, to bring the IRAN WAR to an end.
