Stacking Deep
by John Conroy It was mid June 1969. Alpha Company had set up to prepare its night defensive perimeter on a hilltop as one of the other companies in the battalion carried a raging firefight to the enemy on the next hill. It was such a short distance away that the firing was very clear, and probably just out of voice range, maybe 5-600 meters.

We were a little edgy, each man silently contemplating the probability that we were going to leave our thus-far safe environs for yon hill and firefight at any moment. We chatted idly and dug as we could in the rocky terrain. It was somewhat akin to trying to dig through concrete. We were making little headway. We managed to scrape what might be referred to as a depressed fighting position, six or so inches deep and as long and wide as a man. That`s all. Kenny `Cochise` Bunner and I were griping about the ground being so hard and taking turns hacking at it while Sgt Terry Lucarelli stood there favoring us with his renowned gift of gab as we toiled.

I heard a jet screaming in as it flew over us and released two 250 pound fragmentation bombs while it was directly overhead. We had all seen enough of this to know that we were in no danger of a direct hit by the ordnance when it hit. But we also knew we would be the recipients of shrapnel of various sizes at various velocities from it when it did hit. I recalled briefly a few days before when a piece of a slow drag tail fin had come flying toward me from several hundred meters away. It was as large as my head and moving faster than it appeared to be. So I unassed the area rather quickly and watched as it hit the ground and bounced around, striking my M-16 and knocking it away from the tree it had been leaning against. Good old Matty Mattel, no damage to me or my sixteen, though it had been hit very hard.

Anyway, the dropped bombs burst over on the next hill as Luke, Kenny, and I all quickly viewed the one scratch in the dirt that might offer protection to us. And we all jumped for it. I was either slowest or furthest away, because I came to rest on top of Luke, who was on top of Kenny. So, I was taking shelter about 8-12 inches above ground as the shrapnel whizzed about and rained down upon us.

The shrapnel was spent, and it only burned a little where it landed on us before we threw it off. I don`t believe I laughed so hard during my whole time in Nam as I did while we climbed off of one another. We never did get that damn hole dug.

John Conroy
3rd Platoon
A/1/501