seven rounds in his .45, one loaded magazine, and seven rounds in his .380 with no extra magazines.
Donny had four grenades. Bob had his Randall Survivor. Donny had a bayonet.
That was it.
'Shit,' said Donny.
'We're cooked,' said Bob.
'Shit,' said Donny.
'I fucked up,' said Bob.
'Sorry, Pork. I could have led them away from here. I didn't have to come back up this hill. I wasn't thinking.'
'It doesn't matter,' said Donny.
The NVA scurried around at the base of the hill. Presumably they'd carried off their dead and wounded, but it wasn't clear yet what their next move would be. They hadn't fired any flares recently, but they were maneuvering around the hill, Bob supposed, for the last push.
'They may think we have more Claymores,' he said.
'But probably they don't.'
It was dark. Donny had no flares. They crouched in the hole at the top of the hill, one facing east, the other west. The dead M57s with their firing wires lay in the hole too, getting in the way. The stench of C-4, oddly pungent, filled the air, even now, close to an hour after the blasts.
Donny held his M14, Bob a pistol in each hand. They could see nothing. A cold wind whipped through the night.
'They'll probably set up their 81s, zero us, and take us out that way. Why take more casualties? Then they can be on their way.'
'We tried,' said Donny.
'We fought a hell of a fight,' said Bob.
'We hung 'em up a bit. Your old dad up in Ranger heaven would be proud of you.'
'I just hope they find the bodies, and my next of kin is notified.'
'You ever file that marriage report?'
'No. It didn't seem important. No off-post living in the 'Nam.'
'Yeah, well, you want her to get the insurance benefits, don't you?'
'Oh, she doesn't need the money. They have money.
My brothers could use it for school. It's okay the way it is.'
Nothing much to say. They could hear movement at the base of the hill, the occasional secret muttering of NCOs to their squads.
'I lost the picture,' Donny said.
'That's what bothers me.'
'Julie's picture?'
'Yeah.'
'When?'
'Sometime in the night. No, the late afternoon, when I went after that flank security unit. I don't remember. My hat fell off.'
'It was in your hat?'
'Yeah.'
'Well, tell you what, I can't git you out of here and I can't git you the Medal of Honor you deserve, but if I can git you your hat back, would you say I done okay by you?'
'You always did okay by me.'
'Yeah, well, guess what? Your hat fell off your head, all right, but you been so busy, and now you're so tired you ain't figured out that you was wearing a cord around the hat to pull it tight in the rain. It's still there. It's hanging off your neck, across your back.'
'Jesus!'
Donny reached around his neck and felt the cord, he drew it tight, pulled the hat up from around his back and removed it.
'Shit,' he said, because he could think of nothing else to say.
'Go on,' said Bob, 'that's your wife, look at her.'
Donny pulled at the lining of the hat and removed the cellophane package, unpeeled it and removed, a little curled and bent, slightly damp, the photograph.
He stared at it and could see nothing in the darkness, but nevertheless it helped.
In his mind, she was there. One more time. He wanted to cry. She was so sweet, and he remembered the
