Chapter 1

January 1968, Khe Sanh, South Vietnam

Night fell quietly along the camp as the platoon of Marines began to settle in for the night in the sleeping tent. The guard positions had changed shifts and those not on duty were largely playing cards, writing letters, or just relaxing. Corporal Jon Jensen was one of the ones just relaxing. He’d been in country for about nine months now and was looking forward to the next few months when he would have the chance to rotate back to the states.

On this night though, he was reflecting a little on his past and to be specific, what led him here. Through school he’d played football, at first thinking it was his best chance at going to college. He was good, a combination of tough runner, blocker, as well as a threat to catch the ball out of the backfield. He was tall compared to some running backs, an even six feet and two-twenty. His build kept him durable enough to take the punishment a full game of running would get him, averaging around twenty carries a game and just shy of 100 yards. It hadn’t been enough though, while the school celebrated what he’d done, the yards and touchdowns had only earned him the option of walking on for college; and he’d have to pay tuition for that privilege. The money just wasn’t there, so he’d gone to work back at the family farm. Along the way he’d started dating a girl named Reyna who lived nearby. She was tall herself at five-eight; though much skinnier then he was. While most would call her face only average, her personality combined with her red hair had been enough to draw his interest and keep it.

Their relationship and bond developed quickly. They’d been friends through school, but it hadn’t been anything beyond that until he’d run into her in town with some friends. They’d started talking, eventually ending up in the town bar over a couple of beers. One thing led to another and it wasn’t long before the two of them were going out every weekend. Unfortunately fate was going to throw a monkey wrench into things. They’d been dating for just over a year when the letter hit his mailbox. Like a lot of young men his age in 1966 the military decided they needed more people and so he was one of the lucky ones to be drafted into the Marines. He and Reyna both talked about it, but Jon knew there were enough men coming back in boxes to know he didn’t want to marry her and risk coming back in a flag-draped wooden box, turning her into a young war widow. They’d write and if it was meant to be they’d get married after his part in the war was over.

That plan had survived all through basic training, letters written weekly back and forth. Reyna wasn’t surprised when he’d tell how his hunting growing up had well-prepared him for shooting an M-16. Like many of the boys who’d grown up hunting an M-16 could just fire faster, but still accurate when the person shooting it applied the same steady skills from a bolt-action hunting rifle. Between his football and farm life the physical side of the Marines wasn’t a challenge for him either. When he was able to go home on leave she and his family were impressed that not only had he maintained his physique, if anything he had improved upon it. Jon had trimmed away a little of the bulk that he had and replaced it with lean and defined muscle. His two weeks of leave were definitely enjoyed. Reyna wanted to make sure that he had a few nice memories to fall back on knowing that he was soon going to be in Vietnam. The young couple’s love-making was frequent and adventuresome. Though the naiveté of youth struck; the two hadn’t considered the consequences of their actions coupled with the absence of birth control.

Corporal Jensen could only reflect back on those consequences now. While he did so he pulled his wallet out and looked over a couple of pictures he held there. One was a well-worn picture of Reyna and him the day he’d left. The other picture was much more recent and showed a ragged-looking Reyna in a hospital bed. A dark-haired bundle clutched to her chest, Jon Junior or J.J. as they’d taken to calling him. The second picture had arrived just the day prior in the latest mail and helped break the monotony of life here. Most of his days were a balance between filling sandbags to help reinforce the defenses, sentry duty, and any other duties he had to pull.

The VC decided to add something new to break the monotony the Marines had, though. On the evening of January 21st they began an artillery bombardment. The Marines would have no way of knowing whether it was bad luck on their part or skill on the side of the VC; but among the first casualties was the munitions dump. A massive series of explosions lit the night sky as the vast majority of Khe Sanh’s artillery and mortar rounds exploded under the VC artillery fire. Over the next week CPL Jensen and his Marines could only dig in their positions and attend to the casualties that inevitably came from the artillery fire. The explosion of the munitions dump made the US forces return fire limited to non-existent.