Carl relished in experiencing his dream of being part of a military unit in Vietnam. His squad just delivered needed supplies to a forward base. They were told it would be another hour before the two children arrived.
While waiting, Jack broke out a box of Hershey candy bars and passed them out to several of the children from a nearby village. Jack still had enough candy for the orphans.
Two Vietnamese women arrived with the orphans. Carl’s gut tightened when he saw Capt. Phillips handing one woman an envelope, and the other woman handed the children off to Jack and Mike.
Carl took note of how the orphans never looked up; they kept their eyes fixed on the ground. Mike and Jack didn’t say a word to the children but put them in the back of the truck.
Sgt. Collins blew cigar smoke across Carl’s face to get his attention. “The poor kids lost their parents in a Viet Cong raid. We are doing them a favor by taking them to an orphanage where they have a chance for a better life.”
Carl chose not to say anything. If he did, it would only add to Sgt. Collins’ suspicions. He wanted Sgt. Collins and Capt. Phillips to believe that he was Carl Daniels.
On the road back, casual conversation with Sgt. Collins didn’t exist. On the surface, the trip to Moi An seemed like all was okay, but Carl could not shake the feeling it wasn’t. It wasn’t for fear of getting ambushed, for he had been told the area was well patrolled by the South Vietnamese Army.
They were no more than thirty minutes away from An Hoa when a loud whoosh and an explosion occurred twenty feet in front of the truck. Sgt. Collins over-corrected to the right. Sending the truck in the ditch. Carl didn’t have time to react before he heard another explosion behind them. In the rearview mirror, he saw the Captain’s jeep hit the ditch and turn on its side.
The crack of an Ak47 and a thud came from Carl’s left. Carl turned to see Collins’ bloody body fall limp across the steering wheel.
Carl rolled out of the passenger-side door. Using the truck as a shield, he worked his way toward the two remaining members of Fourth Squad, huddled at the rear of the truck.
No sound came from the jungle. The only sound he heard came from the river flowing behind him. A voice from the jungle broke the silence in Vietnamese. The children jumped out of the truck and ran toward the voice.
Mike and Jack started to run after the children when two well-placed bullets landed in their foreheads. Those two didn’t get another step before their lifeless bodies fell limp.
Seeing their deaths, Carl could not fight back his churning stomach. After several violent vomits, Carl took several deep breaths.
Not knowing what to do, he looked back to the Captain’s jeep. There was Captain Phillips crouched down in fear. His driver lay hanging from the upended jeep.
The bullets stopped. Carl reasoned whoever attacked them must’ve thought everyone was dead or forgot about him and Capt. Phillips.
Carl impulsively fired his rifle in the direction of his attackers until his rifle was empty. A sinking feeling came over him. He pictured his bullets hitting the children. He then threw his rifle on the ground.
A couple more rounds flew over his head.
Carl pulled his sidearm from his holster. He looked at it. All the confidence he had gained from his training was gone. In desperation, he ran toward his Captain. Several more rounds of bullets flew in his direction. This time they dinged off the jeep.
Carl heard Capt. Phillips fire two rounds.
Carl slid in behind the jeep next to Phillips. Carl couldn’t believe what he saw. Capt. Phillips’ hand was shaking worse than his. Phillips’ bullets went in the air. In his other hand, he had a death grip on the radio mic.
“I can’t depend upon this asshole for any help!” Carl thought to himself.
Capt. Phillips looked relieved at the sight of Carl kneeling beside him. “I can’t get this fucken radio to work,” Phillips whined.
Carl snatched the mic from him and keyed it. After taking a deep breath and in the voice of a seasoned soldier, he said, “Mayday! Mayday! This is Fourth Squad. We’re taking fire. Mayday! Mayday!” He only lifted his hand off the mic’s button long enough to take another breath before repeating what he just said.
It took him repeating the radio message a couple more times before he heard over the radio, “What is your position?”
“We’re thirty minutes out of An Hoa, on the road that goes along the river.”
“What is your call sign?”
Carl thought for a moment. He remembered what Sgt. Collins had told them: they only used first names. “This is Sergeant Jake with Capt. Phillips. We’re pinned down.”
After a brief silence, he heard, “You’re in luck. We have a Snake, approximately two minutes from your position. Where do you want our fire?” Carl remembered an earlier conversation with Sgt. Collins, the word Snake referred to an AH-1 Cobra attack helicopter. The Cobras were perfect for providing close air support.
“You will see us on the river side of the road. The bastards who attacked us are in the jungle.”
Carl peered around the jeep to see if their enemy was attacking. A bullet smashed into his right shoulder. The pain was masked by Carl’s adrenaline. Carl felt as if a baseball had bounced off his shoulder. He had to push the pain out of his mind for now.
“Hang tight.” Those words had not cleared the airwaves when the sound of a Cobra gunship swooped down and laid suppressing fire thirty feet from them.
Turning to Phillips, Carl said, “We are getting out of here alive.”
As quickly as the ambush began, it ended. Carl reasoned their attackers must have scattered or were dead. The Cobra laid another volley of fire on the attackers’ position before leaving.
Capt. Phillips breathed a sigh of relief. He gave Carl a deep stare in his eyes, “Go put on Collins’ shirt and swap dog tags with him. Don’t forget to have one of his cigars in your pocket. You told them you were Collins. You’re now Sgt. Jake Collins.”
“But, sir?” Carl protested.
“Do what I say before anyone else shows up.”
Carl had just barely completed what Capt. Phillips had ordered before two jeeps with mounted M40s came barreling up the road. At about the same time, a medivac Huey arrived from Da Nang. The Huey took Capt. Phillips and Carl to China Beach.
Another truck arrived to transport the dead to the morgue at Da Nang.
Capt. Phillips suffered a sprained wrist and a couple of bruises.
The dog tags of Private Carl Daniels were hung around the neck of the old Sgt. Jake Collins. Weeks later, the real Carl Daniels and his family were surprised when they heard the news of him being killed in South Vietnam.
