Private First Class Phong was scared out of his wits. His comrades were laying down a heavy base of fire. As soon as he heard the sergeant’s whistle and initial shots, he knew it was time to shoot. Everyone else in the platoon knew it was time to shoot. It took a moment’s hesitation before he caught on to what was going on. The Noise was more than boisterous. He scanned down the sights of his Kalashnikov rifle placing an enemy combatant on the business end of his rifle. The distance could have been more than a hundred meters. Nga slowly pulled the trigger to the rear, feeling the weapon discharge its first round. He eyeballed his intended target who was in a kneeling position atop a building. The man held an American built Garand Rifle, but Nga did not know what it was. He did not move, but kept firing his rifle in the direction of his platoon. Nga aimed again and squeezed off a second round. The kneeling soldier winced to the right, but continued to fire. Each time he squeezed the trigger Nga was overwhelmed by feelings of anxiety. Just as the explosion of the bullet erupted, the anxiety was depleted. Then it returned as he adjusted his aim to take a third shot. This time, he hit his mark, the man falling backward onto the roof of the building he was kneeling on.

Once he achieved his first kill, Nga felt both satisfied with himself and grief for the death he caused. He successfully quelled his foreboding thoughts, continuing to aim and engage targets. Bullets splintered the tree he laid behind causing him to recede back out of sight. He was in no hurry to die; at least not today. Nga then shifted to the left side of the tree, scanning for targets on the left. He found three more and attempted to engage each in succession. After firing the third round, he felt a stinging sensation in his left buttocks. He didn’t think much of it continuing to shoot.

Phong Nga’s adrenaline surged through his veins, making him feel like a Vietnamese superman. A .30 caliber projectile skinned the flesh of his ass and he did not know it. He continued to provide fire for the platoon until told to cease fire. As soon as he dispatched a Southern dog, he would find another and begin shooting. A second bullet knocked his dark green sun helmet off his head. The helmet was completely shattered with a hole in the middle and a crack to permanently make it unusable. Fortunately, the bullet that shattered his helmet missed his skull.