Mortar shells sending their shredded shrapnel everywhere
We needed to move but we were surrounded. green tracers almost formed a solid wall.
The enemy had encircled us on three sides.
They were moving in step-by-step. We started with 6 men. My Asst PSG was wounded in both legs and the abdomen.
There were 250 to 300 of those mean little bastards.
Our radioman was killed. The enemy bodies were piling up. Everyone of us was wounded somewhere and losing blood.
I finally got an air extraction team on the radio
They were inbound. We had to pull out to a rally point on our relatively unhindered 4th side . We boarded the rescue helicopter.
My Asst PSG was too badly wounded to move.
I ran back into the crucible of fire. I laid beside him and kissed his head. I handed him my mini-hand grenade we used to blow ourselves up in case of capture
I was stroking his head. He was in tears.
He said, "Brother-man, giving me your grenade is the kindest thing you have ever done for me" I kissed him again on his forehead and di-di'ed to the chopper.
We lifted off firing from every door.
Green tracer rounds were going right through the skin of the chopper. We saw but did not hear the blast of the mini-grenade.