“.…The C-130 rolled to a stop at the south end of the single air strip.  The four of us jumped off, and proceeded to unpack our gear.  The plane turned around, and slowly taxied towards the opposite end, to drop off the other 14 men and supplies, and to pick up any wounded.  This was a warehouse base for distribution of war materials to those allies cultivated by the spooks.  It was located approximately 200 miles from our camp at the border, and the spooks regularly flew in supplies.  It was just another spook base that did not exist, at least according to our government….”

“….We began the ritual preparation of stripping down for the field, and unpacking our gear.  As always, we were in the habit of helping each other to tape everything down, put on our camo, and prepare for war.  I was scanning the terrain through my binocs, when I noticed movement at the tree line.  I could see gray uniformed men coming out of the trees.  The NVA was in those trees, in numbers, and they were moving forward to that end of the airstrip…..”

“.…We were all scared, shitless.  There were probably as many as four or five thousand men, in those two regiments of NVA, attacking the opposite end of the air strip.  We knew if they found us, we were dead.  They might keep Uncle alive, for trade, but they would not keep the rest of us alive….”

“…..Trough our binocs, we saw the plane sitting on the runway.  Men were loading wounded, and within minutes, the C-130 was taxiing in our direction.  It lifted off, and we could see they had not even unloaded their equipment.  Paul informed Uncle that they would be coming back with reinforcements, and to pick up any wounded.  We knew that was not going to happen, and waiting would translate into suicide, so we took our chances and followed Uncle, hoping to make the border, and stay alive….”

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