“He goina be here in zero-five,” Huntley said. “Better crack us some beers.”
Sergeant Ron Huntley had just come in with Sullivan from an uneventful three-day ambush patrol. They had not heard the news. “It’ll take this piece a junk zero-five just to rewind the tape,” Conklin said.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” John Sullivan burst into the teamhouse. “Did you...”
“Old hat, L-T,” Huntley said. His feet were up on the field table, his beer was half gone. The recorder clicked as the tape finished rewinding.
“Man!” Sullivan threw a right-fisted hook into the air. “Man! They’re goina do it. They’re doing it!”
Ian Conklin pressed the play button and for Sullivan and Huntley it was 9 P.M. Eastern Standard Time, 30 April 1970. “It is not our power but our will and character that are being tested t
