Still Alpha waited. They ate, smoked, fidgeted. They talked about the tunnel. Everyone had heard a tunnel story. They repeated them. They speculated. They imagined a vast complex. The sun had shifted imperceptibly from east to west. It continued to burn down. Every other boonierat tried to sleep. Each platoon sent out one squad in lights, weapons and ammo sans rucks, to recon the hillside about their perimeter and to search for other possible outlets for the complex.
After fifty minutes the GreenMan called. He told Brooks to expect a kick-out of rope, demolition supplies, a mity-mite blower, smudge pots and CS canisters. “You’re due romeo sierra in twenty,” GreenMan radioed. “Blow a lema zulu on the high feature.” The battalion commander reasoned that Alpha, due to resupply the next morni
