After being absolutely butchered on their last mission, 1st Squad received several FNG replacements who were accompanying the group on a Patrol through the highlands of II Corps.
Word was it was a quiet AO and no contact was expected (Psst - the EAL was actually 6!), which is all the more reason it was quite suspicious that Platoon Sgt. White linked up with the squad just before heading out. He would be taking charge of the patrol and there was nothing Cooper could do about it. It couldn't be confirmed, but it seemed mighty clear that the new Platoon Commander, Lt. Schaefer, was already mucking things up. Word around the FSB was that Schaefer only had another month on his tour, so why the hell did he give a shit about a simple patrol? Something wasn't adding up.
The jungle was thick and towering over the understrength American GI's.
Two PEF's began on the Eastern half of the board, while the squad entered from the South.
Entering the center of the table on the Southern side, the American GI's leisurely advanced under Sgt. White's command
On the Eastern side of the table, something was rustling in the underbrush.
Taking cover behind a small abandoned hooch, the PEF advances towards the squad at a remarkable pace (PEF's with Rep 6 are rough!)
Before FNG Private Hiller could warn the group, contact was made. A small enemy encampment was spotted near the visible hooch. The camp was reinforced by 2 VC log bunkers which immediately opened up.
Caught with fire pouring in from two angles, the blood curdling screams of fresh American meat echoed over the barking automatic fire
Pvt. Hiller fell to the dirt involuntarily, 7.76mm FMJ's opening up several holes in his flesh. Sgt. Cooper had several rounds zip by his head, including a graze off his backpack which forced his chin into the mud.
Meanwhile, the remaining PEF split into two which was even worse news...
Smelling blood, the MFVC pushed out of their defensive positions trading fire and casualties with the American squad.
A definitive round of fire leaves the GI's cut to pieces; several VC caught bullets as well.
Fleeing for their lives, the squad limped off the field like wounded rabbits. Cooper noticed on the way back that PFC. Samuel was eyeing the back of Sgt. White's head with such fury and indignation that normally was reserved for the enemy. Cooper felt like he should say something to cool the squad down but quickly dismissed the idea: he wanted the son of a bitch along with the entire brass to burn.
