We are on the same fire base as the one established in Cambodia. This time I am not with my own platoon but I am part of the TOC/CP. BC(?) Is none other than the young doctor from LZ Green who did not know how to handle his own rank. We meddle about in a huge canvas tent. I think about digging a foxhole but there are no shovels. Night comes. All of a sudden there is a metallic burst of illumination flares. The sky lights up and we are showered by the magnesium brightness. For the first few moments no one knows what is going on. Who has called for the lume? Then, through the thin canvas I see two figures run past about 40 yards off. So, it is a ground attack. But I say nothing. Moments later the AK's open up. In the dream there are several old house where the gooks have holed up. My old platoon and I converge on it. With my M-16 roaring I cut down several dinks. I am overwhelmed by the sight of two individuals fighting with the enemy. Of all people, there is Mike W., our old RTO. I begin to fire, but my M-16 is sluggish; the bullets dumbly chug out. Wilson is followed by Juba, my friend from down the street, a high school buddy (who now I go to bars with every now and then). Juba has a long .45. His long drilling shots come after Wilson sprays me with a burst that catches me flush across the body. Again, though I am obviously hit, nothing happens. The firefight ends. We go back to the tent. I see bullet holes in my ankles. The Captain asks me if there is anything I want. I think of telling him, "Yes! A Medivac," but I say only that we should dig foxholes. The next day I scrounge for ammo. There is little or none to be found, though I steal two grenades. I meet Roop and Melhop. During the fire fight, I use grenades but they prove ineffective. Even though I hold them for two or three seconds after the handle flies off (and they hiss like smoke grenades) they are thrown too hard and bounce away, and oddly, explode in a mere crackle of sparks, the way smoke does when it first ignites. Steve S. (a fellow from sleep away camp) and I go to the other side of the base. There is a small VN compound. Steve S. throws a grenade into a little wooden school house filled with children. It blows up and there are the horrific screams of the wounded. We walk down a trail. I am telling him how stupid he is for making this mess, surely there will be another attack tonight. Children come shrieking out and run after us. I turn and beckon to them. "Come with me, come to me." A jeep pulls up and takes on the casualties.