I am in Cambodia at the ambush site where the others threw themselves on me just before the explosion from the second grenade. In the dream, instead of guns chattering or the short snap of the Chicom's fuse, both sides scream and shout, preparing to rush forward in hand-to-hand combat. The NV A come at me with bayonets drawn. I offer no resistance, but cower and steel myself for the killing thrust. They prod me once or twice in the sides. Then, before death or capture, I wake up. The word surrender is very fresh in my mind. I feel anxious and weak and sick.