My God, he's screaming for his mother. This can mean only one thing. Lou, the man to my rear, has moved up next to me. We exchange a look that tells both of us that we have reached the same conclusion. We were now facing that which G.I.'s feared most of all in Vietnam.
Seconds tick by.
Lou and I are closest to the screams, but the source is still 30 to 50 yards ahead of us. It must be either Dave or Joe. Defer the questions. God, he sounds just like a little kid - in tremendous pain. I can't stand it.