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Please Forgive me, soldier. Forgive my right hand tree line now for pointing you to the flawless outlined in my brain. There was so much bloodsky over our heads at daybreak in Pleiku, but I won't say those infernal guns blinded me on that hill. Mistakes piled up men like clouds pushed to the dark side. Sometimes I try to retrace them, running my fingers down the map telling less than a woman's bodywe followed the grid coordinates . in some battalion commander's mind. If I could make my mouth unsay those orders, I'd holler: Don't move a muscle. Stay put, & keep your fucking head down, soldier. Ambush. Gutsmoke. Last night while making love I cried out, Hit the dirt! I've tried to swallow my tongue. You were a greenhorn, so fearless, even foolish, & when I said go, Henry, you went dancing on a red string of bullets from that tree line as it moved from a low cloud. 133 from Toys in a Field ...

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