Mike Company Third Battalion, Fifth Marines
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In Country By Brad Reynolds I was in Vietnam approximately three hours when myself and 20 other
Marines loaded onto a truck and headed north out of Danang. We traveled about an hour when
we started to hear small arms fire and artillery slamming into a village at the base of a
hill. Vietnamese were walking in single file on both sides of the road carrying what
belongings they could. They were heading away from the fighting, toward Danang. I couldn't
believe what I was seeing: old men, women and kids running for their lives. The lines of
refugees seemed to go on for miles. It still puts a lump in my throat to think about those
poor people. Suddenly, we pulled off the road and headed through rolls and rolls of barbed
wire to the compound. The men in the compound were wearing flak jackets and carrying
weapons and boxes of ammo. The truck stopped, and we piled off. We stood in formation
waiting for our orders when we heard helicopters coming in. We were told to help unload
the choppers when they landed. I didn't know they were filled with bodies of Marines, the
ones we would be replacing. We unloaded approximately 12 bodies that had been blown to
shit by who knows what. My new jungle fatigues were stained with the blood of combat. I
guess that's when I realized this was no game. When we had finished unloading the
helicopters, we were immediately marched up to the command tent where we met our skipper,
a young man with a hardened face.
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