By the time we got to LZ Jane in Quang Tri Province, it was early evening. The chopper landed in an open, hilly field. There were no structures in sight, nothing but a windflag to mark a safe landing spot, stuck in the ground. The two GIs and I got out, and—whoosh!—the chopper took off and was gone. A sergeant major and some other GIs appeared.
The sergeant major yelled, “Who’s this guy?!”
The kid who had been wary of me yelped, “I don’t know! I don’t have anything to do with him! He’s been following us!”
The sergeant major was the highest officer in the vicinity. Whoever had the most stripes was in charge. So, I told the guy with a star on his stripes who I was and what I was doing. Luckily, he thought it was hilarious.
“Duggan’s out at the ambush post,” he said, smirking. He was in on it now.
The sergeant major turned to his radio operator and said, “Hey, call Duggan back in.” While the GI worked the field phone, the officer pointed to the ground.
“Get in here, quick.”
They had already dug a deep foxhole; a place to take cover under fire. I jumped in, and they threw a poncho over me.
“RV12845, return to the perimeter,” I heard the radio operator say. “RV12845, return to the perimeter.”
They would always refer to a soldier by his roster number, because if the enemy was listening in and heard his name over the radio, they could use it for propaganda purposes.
I was crouched down, hiding in that hole. The ambush patrol was two hundred yards away, and it would be kind of sketchy for Rick to come back alone. I started to worry I would get him killed, but after a while, I heard his familiar voice. I smiled to myself.
“You called me back in, sir?” Rick asked. “You wanted to see me?”
“Oh, we don’t want to see you,” the sergeant said. “This guy over here wants to see you.”
Presto! They yanked the canvas off the top of the hootch, and out I jumped.
Rick did a double take and turned and looked over his shoulder for coconspirators—there were none.
“Chickie! Holy s—! What the hell are you doing here?!’”
“Here’s a beer for you,” I said, and I explained my mission.
“Are you kidding me?!” he said. “No, really, come on, what are you doing here?”
“That’s really what I’m doing here,” I said.
The sergeant and the other guys were laughing hysterically.
“But who are you with?” Rick asked. He looked like he was still processing it; like I was a mirage.
“Who am I with?” I said. “I am with you!”
Then the sergeant major said, “Duggan, you’d better get the hell out of here because he’s not supposed to be here. I know that much.”
“What do I do with him?” Rick asked him.
“He’s yours now—take him with you,” the officer declared.