The Close Call

David Beakey

We left the safety of the fire base. Our task was to set up a night ambush. We set in amongst a group of haggard trees and sharp bushes. The sun set as we tried to ward off the insects and rough foliage. Once it became fully dark, we moved again, 200 meters away, into the sand dunes.

The wind whistled quietly and the scattered clumps of grass fluttered slightly. The sand dunes supplied ready-made foxholes; slight depressions in the ground. We were grateful, but didn’t want to be so low that we couldn’t scan the horizon. Now it was my turn. I rolled over and shook my head at 0400. My job was to be alert and observant until 0600, at which time we would head back to the fire base.

At about 0500, as dawn was slowly creeping across the sky, I saw some movement. I tried to focus on the apparitions before me. Slowly, they came into focus; at least 6 figures, in uniform, crouched and running parallel to our position. I aimed my rifle at the 1^st soldier. I could see their weapons. Then I hesitated and considered putting my rifle on automatic. I could rake across the group and hope to hit three or four of them. I sighted down the rifle.

The sun was peeking over the dunes. The mist was present, but slowly evaporating. I had a great bead on him. I started to squeeze the trigger. Suddenly, I had doubts. The men were running awkwardly. They resembled Americans. I eased off the trigger. I watched them for about 60 seconds and realized they were marines, probably from our platoon. Yes, they were lost and trying to find us.

We were never notified that two squads were going out this night. I whistled, and their heads turned. They were startled and then happy that they had encountered “friendlies” instead of bad guys. We walked back to the outpost together. One squad was disappointed, the other squad grateful.

Dave Beakey

Echo Company

1/20/68 – 2/01/69