The Close Call
David Beakey
We left the safety of the fire base. Our
task was to set up a night ambush. We set in amongst a group of haggard trees
and sharp bushes. The sun set as we tried to ward off the insects and rough
foliage. Once it became fully dark, we moved again, 200 meters away, into the
sand dunes.
The wind whistled quietly and the
scattered clumps of grass fluttered slightly. The sand dunes supplied
ready-made foxholes; slight depressions in the ground. We were grateful, but
didn’t want to be so low that we couldn’t scan the horizon. Now it was my turn.
I rolled over and shook my head at 0400. My job was to be alert and observant
until 0600, at which time we would head back to the fire base.
At about 0500, as dawn was slowly creeping
across the sky, I saw some movement. I tried to focus on the apparitions before
me. Slowly, they came into focus; at least 6 figures, in uniform, crouched and
running parallel to our position. I aimed my rifle at the 1st
soldier. I could see their weapons. Then I hesitated and considered
putting my rifle on automatic. I could rake across the group and hope to hit
three or four of them. I sighted down the rifle.
The sun was peeking over the dunes. The
mist was present, but slowly evaporating. I had a great bead on him. I started
to squeeze the trigger. Suddenly, I had doubts. The men were running awkwardly.
They resembled Americans. I eased off the trigger. I watched them for about 60
seconds and realized they were marines, probably from our platoon. Yes, they
were lost and trying to find us.
We were never notified that two
squads were going out this night. I whistled, and their heads turned. They were
startled and then happy that they had encountered “friendlies”
instead of bad guys. We walked back to the outpost together. One squad was
disappointed, the other squad grateful.
Dave Beakey
Echo Company
1/20/68 – 2/01/69