Slack Cat


by Wayne Hastings


A good point man pays attention to his slack. Not direct eyeball attention but more of a sixth sense developed over time with trust. Slack is looking and listening in places point can't cover. When point is looking left slack is looking right. If points attention is foreward Slack is looking side to side with his third eye on point.

The trust is complete. This ain't no one man war.

The lush green flora closes in tight on this trail we shouldn't be on. But this is the only way through this shit hole. We just bear down bite the bullet and advance forward.

100 men moving can't use stealth they know where we are but usually avoid direct confrontation they are bound to get the worst of. But these bastards are cocky little shits. Its the Americals AO and Americal hasn't been pushing them. In fact I believe they have been avoiding them when ever possible This gives the enemy balls they shouln't have.

Now they want to come out to play.

Mortars fall mercilessly. A medivac gets its rotor shot off at 1200 feet. Men watch helplessly from the ground as it tilts over and live wounded fall silently to the ground The chopper crashes in a ball of fire. Airpower is brought to bear a capured NVA reveals 15 out of 18 mortar teams are knocked out. Our team is bloody but they are getting their collective asses kicked all over the Americals AO by elements of 101st Abn. Div..

Then I'm back in my own AO.

Just me and Ruben a big Maine Coon Cat. He's a born killer he hunts all night every night but just before dark when I patrol my perimeter he picks up my Slack follows me all the way around my 40 acres. We move as a silent team. In a pause at a turn in the trail we hear the big doe snort and stomp out a chalenge. Shes got a baby in there and she don't like Ruben he often stalks her by night .

Hes never brought home a faun amoung his nightly kills but I wouldn't be surprized if he did. But there will be no ambush to nite We move silently on to the fading sounds of her snorts and stomps. I'm glad she wasn't armed she would've probably got us both.

Wayne Hastings
B/1/501
1968-69