May 30th, 1968
Cam Ranh Bay, South Vietnam
They say you don’t hear the bullet that kills you.
How could anyone know that?
Because, they also say, bullets move faster than the speed of sound. By the time you hear the sound of the bullet in your back, you’re dead.
What if you’re only wounded; you’d hear that bullet, wouldn’t you?
Well, you’re not dead, are you?
Sam pushed the thought away as he struggled to his feet with Frank’s heavy, still body draped across his shoulders. He clutched Frank’s wrists and ankles and ran awkwardly for the cover of the aircraft maintenance shack.
Almost there. Almost there. We’re gonna make it, Frank. Hang on. Hang on, buddy.
Steps from safety, an excruciating pain ripped a groan from behind Sam’s clenched teeth. He staggered but kept his feet. Another step and another burst of pain and his knees buckled as…
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