CHAPTER EIGHT“AIN’T NO WAY, L-T. I got me a fine young woman waitin’ and I don’t mean to disappoint her.”
“I only said think about it, Conk.”
“Yeah, but you say ‘think’ and we always end up doin’.” The American sergeant pushed his floppy bush hat to the back of his head. “I’m short. Down to sixty-six and a wake-up. That’s it for me.”
“It’s a big city, Conklin,” the lieutenant said. “Besides, you guys trained some of them Cambos. No more being stuck in a little corner of the Delta. No more Major Travis. Phnom Penh, Conk. We could be in Phnom Penh.”
Lieutenant John L. Sullivan, 5th Special Forces, leaned forward in his chair in the small operations bunker. He had been an advisor to a Viet Namese provincial force for almost a year. He passed Ian Conklin the Ba Muoi Ba beer the two had bee
