We are on a trail, a well-used trail. Any moment, I am ready for an ambush. It seems that 3/6 platoon is drag, as way up in front AK and 16 shots are exchanged. Oddly, at first no one dives to the ground. Instead, we look to see what has happened. Capt. Hylo seems to be standing over a dead dink. Then hell breaks lose. The bamboo surroundings become a barren hilly expanse with dinks about us. They have some sort of modern building on a ledge 100 meters to my right. Way off I see a dink machine gunner beading on us. I open up on him. Then another dink MG appears, closer. I, too, have a machine gun, we will duel with bullets. Who will kill the other first? A dink on the ledge by the building hurls a grenade at me. I am lucky. It is a bit short of its target. I hug the earth and cannot recall being hurt. Next, the dink gunner rolls a base ball grenade towards me. I consider my chances against the time delay, grab it and hurl it a mighty length. It explodes harmlessly in the air. The duel renews. His bullets churn up staccato patterns of dust in front of me. I fire one long burst and catch him with one shot in the chest. He is dead. AK's blossom everywhere. It is like June 16, 1970. I fear running out of ammo. In the dream I am with Larry R. We are by a conex filled with ammo. We deliberate what to do. The dream becomes unclear after this.