We lost some good guys. How do you explain this in a letter? One minute they were there, then dead. I have no idea why I'm still here ... I'm supposed to feel something for those we lost. Wish to God I knew what. -Cpl Jon Johnson
Mom,
I saw a man die last night. I don't know if it's better or worse that he was killed instantly. On one hand, he didn't suffer, but on the other he had no chance. He just... died.
I was out near the perimeter on watch, sitting in a foxhole and keeping myself awake by telling myself scary stories. All of a sudden, there was this whistling sound and then a horrible explosion as a mortar round landed. The long anticipated NVA attack had finally arrived and I couldn't do anything. I made myself as small as possible in my hole. I must have stayed like that for an hour. Finally, there was a lull and I stretched out slowly, trying to stay in my hole, yet loosen up. I noticed this guy running towards me from the camp. I don't know what he was doing, but when he was about 100 feet away, the mortar fire started up again. The first one that landed his him. He just flew in the air and he landed with this horrible thump. I don't think he landed in one piece.
He wasn't our only casualty. Before all the men were either in the bunkers or somewhere else under cover, a mortar round hit a truck. I watched the explosion from my post, and heard the screams of a few men who had been scrambling pass it and therefore had been hit with shrapnel. The attack lasted until 4 am, at which point I waited for someone to relieve me. The past five hours had me crouched in a hole, wondering if the NVA would come through the camp's perimeter and take us when we were huddled in bunkers. When I was finally relieved, the company's CO came along and offered me his hand. He helped me climb, muscles stiff and sore, out of my hole, then patted me on the back and said, "Good job, soldier." I don't think I was worthy of it, but apparently he was visiting all the men who had been on watch during the attack. To be honest, I can't decide if I'd rather have been with my unit in the ten when the rounds started coming in, or alone at the edge of camp. I think I was safer in my lonely foxhole than at our tent, where I would have been closer to where the rounds were landing.
Thankfully, none of the men in my unit were any of the casualties.
I'm going to go try and catch a couple hours in the sack before we leave for a patrol later. I'm exhausted.
Your loving son,
John