Too Late

by Tony Craidon

Poem


Talking With Regina...I Like to Do!

by John Bradley

Poem


Imaginary Dragon

by Daniel Adjei

Poem


Just Plain Lost

by Richard Wangard

Prose


An Intrepid Hero

by Daniel Wolfe

Prose


A Veteran’s Lament

by Kwame Toshambe

Prose


The Sound

By Roger Conard, Army

Writing Type: Prose

I participated in a battalion-level recon platoon in War Zone-C in Vietnam from 1969 to 1970. One day we were ordered to climb to the top of the Razor Back Mountain along the border of Cambodia and Vietnam.

A “grunt,” whose name I wish I could remember, and I, the medic, were ordered to go down the hill on the Cambodia side and take a radio with us to set up a listening post. We got there and set up our claymore mines pointing downhill in the direction of large-scale enemy incursions. The 11-B infantry man I was with manned the radio, and we both prepared our weapons.

We waited.

I don’t know how long we waited, but it didn’t seem long before I heard what I believed would be the sound I would hear at the end of my life- the sound of what I thought was a large enemy force coming up the hill.

The fellow with me was on the field phone telling our platoon leader that it sounded like a regiment breaking brush straight up the mountain toward us. My thoughts were very simple. I would wait to blow my claymores; throw my grenades and then try to rejoin my platoon at the crest of the big hill we called the razor back, just five miles north of our base camp at Dau Tieng.

Suddenly we realized that a herd of apes had come upon us - I’m sure they were Gibbons. Although I wasn’t so sure at the time, we were both mesmerized and relieved that they weren’t a regiment of North Vietnamese Army regulars. I can imagine the first images that were manifested by our relay call to Battalion.

Eventually we called back and told our platoon leader it was only a herd of apes. They traveled quickly in the trees and on the ground and had detoured around us as naturally as could be.

The day went on without a major invasion force coming across the border, as had happened in the past. As it turned out, the major offensive would be our own, early in 1970 when our troops went to Cambodia in force.

Too Late

by Tony Craidon

Poem


What I'd Like, What I Need

by Allen Burns

Poem


A Painting Still

by Dean Glorso

Poem


Big Leon and John"Duke" Wayne

by Rodney Santos

Prose


Having a Baby in the Navy: A Memoire

by Deborah Welch

Prose


The Voice

by John Muza

Prose