|  The enemy came at us from three sides. I knew we couldn’t hold out much longer, but I wanted to try, so I sent my gunner in search of
more ammunition. Alone now, I fired to keep their heads down, to give
my gunner a chance, but low on ammo, I had to pick and choose targets and fire
in short bursts. The enemy knew I was alone on the hill, so imagine my
surprise when the shooting stopped, and I heard, “Black G.I., why
you fight us? Throw down your weapon. We will not hurt you. They
hate you in your country, black G.I., but we do not.”
Bullshit. No
way did I buy that crap. However, I welcomed the lull
in the action and lay still. I wanted to buy time by making them believe
I was considering their offer.
Don’t ask me how the hell he did
it, but a few minutes later, my gunner made it back with several cans of ammunition. He’d
been hit and was in bad shape, but even wounded, he’d scrambled around
that hill until he got what he went for. The kid was a God damned hero. I
can’t tell you his name. This is a little off subject and probably
sounds crazy to you, but I remember clearly the events of that time but not
the names of people or places. I remember exactly what that gunner looked
like. I would recognize him if I saw him on the street today, but I can’t
remember his name. Hell, I can’t even remember the name of that
God damned hill he almost died on.
- Studies show that decades after experiencing combat trauma, veterans
diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder maintain high levels of neurochemicals
in the neocortex. This firefight and many similar or worse changed forever
how Sidney perceived his world. In his mind and body, Sidney Lee never
escaped the battlefields of Vietnam.
|
