They have spent more than two weeks among the H-34's twisted remains, living in a camp of lashed bamboo pole and ripstop nylon, passing the days on an archaeological dig carved into the ridge's western flank. It is steep, dangerous terrain.
Temperatures run into the triple digits every afternoon.
The humidity is withering. The mosquitoes carry malaria. Tigers lurk in the night. Ninety-five Americans are encamped here and at five other digs in the Vietnamese back country, scouring the ground where planes went down, ambushed patrols left people behind, men simply vanished. To send home all they find.