From my second sog observation mission written in 1992 for the boys ... as I recall ...
... in the night every man was given a zone of responsibility and each was left with his own thoughts, each knew that with the dawn the game would be on.
Scared, you better believe I was scared, nothing in human experience is more frightening than waiting for the unknown to happen.
Dawn ... we wait ... 2 hours pass ... at last whup, whup, whup, whup, sarge chucks a louie lime (green smoke) into the center of the clearing the radio operator advises the pilot that the LZ could get hot. Just before he flares all hell breaks loose, we blow the claymores and every man unloads, first the grenades, then run for the ship firing in your area as you go, the first three men out all go down, the rest of us run out, its like running through a swarm of bees. As I come to the first down man I grab his suspenders as he struggles forward, everyone is assisting each other our return fire has ceased. getting the guy I was holding on to aboard I turn back to assist the next man and am knocked dead on my prettythang, all the wind is knocked out of me,and I just sit there trying to get my breath. Every thing is moving in ultra slow motion hands pull at me we are lifting off, I now know there is a God ... he flies a Huey.
Every man was hit at least once but we were all aboard and all alive, and no one cared if anyone had soiled themselves or not, plugging holes was the order of the day now.
Again I was lucky, hit at an extreme angle my breastbone had deflected the bullet. 9 days in the hospital and orders to report back to Washington. A cluster on my purple heart and a star for the CIB.
This was my last trip into the bush, but not may last trip in the Nam.