As the bright blue light faded, Al started to hear gunfire. Automatic gunfire. It was all around him. He looked around, and saw he was on the edge of a tree line, next to a trail which was about ten feet wide. He realized he was holding an automatic rifle, and was on one knee in the undergrowth. He took a deep breath. The heat and humidity were stifling. The gunfire continued. Suddenly, he saw a lemon-sized object hurtling toward him. Grenade! He spotted a depression in the ground on the other side of the trail. It looked big enough to fit into. Al jumped up, ran across the trail, and dove into the hole. He lay face down and heard the grenade explode, followed by the sound of shrapnel raining down on the vegetation around him. This was all too familiar- the heat, the humidity, the sounds of war. He rolled over onto his back and looked up. The trees were thick and dark green, but he couldn't see any detail through the haze hanging in the air. I'm back in Vietnam! The realization hit him like a punch to the face. He sat up, slowly looked over the edge of the hole, and paled at what he saw. He was looking down the muzzle of an automatic rifle. The kid at the other end couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen. Al read the name tapes on the kid's jacket: Collins, U.S. Army
Collins yelled over his shoulder, "Jones, I got a live one!" He turned back to Al. "Heh, heh, heh. I've got you now, Charlie."
Charlie? Al was stunned. "Oh, ca-ca."