Books with author Kitson

I saw the dark bodies of the rocket propelled grenades (RPGs) as they flashed out of the tree line. It looked like they were coming directly at me. We were returning fire with the enemy hidden within the tree line. When an RPG hit the tank, I was blown through the air towards the tree line. The sudden impact with the ground or the explosion knocked me unconscious. When I regained consciousness, a Viet Cong (V. C.) soldier was laying on my legs. One of my buddies was yelling "He is dead Kit, watch out in front of you." As I started firing at movement and muzzle flashes in the tree line I thought: "That other RPG missed the tank." "I wonder where it landed?" Now why I would think those thoughts in the middle of a firefight, I do not know. I guess I must have seen it passing by me when I was blown off the tank or I was going crazy. Go figure! Suddenly, two V. C. soldiers threw two grenades at me. I tried to make myself as small as possible as they landed close to me. Fortunately, I had landed between two furrows of some Vietnamese farmer's garden and the soil within the two furrows absorbed the majority of the blasts. Not long after the grenades exploded, most of the firing stopped and I had a chance to survey the damage to my body. My right shoulder hurt and felt like it was dislocated. I had blood oozing from shrapnel wounds to different parts of my body. My camouflaged helmet cover was partially in my face and there was half of an old fashioned ice tong hooked in my flack jacket. It looked to me like the V. C. soldier that was laying on my legs was about to drag me into the V. C. positions within the tree line. A cold chill went throughout my body when I realized that I had nearly been the main attraction at the torture games the V. C. had probably planned for their entertainment that night. My reverie was interrupted when one of my buddies remarked that I looked like a limp rag doll flying through the air after the RPG hit the tank. He did not think I was alive and could not believe that I could hang onto my rifle. I looked incredulously at him as I asked him to help me get up and point me towards the nearest med-evac chopper.

I saw the dark bodies of the rocket propelled grenades (RPGs) as they flashed out of the tree line. It looked like they were coming directly at me. We were returning fire with the enemy hidden within the tree line. When an RPG hit the tank, I was blown through the air towards the tree line. The sudden impact with the ground or the explosion knocked me unconscious. When I regained consciousness, a Viet Cong (V. C.) soldier was laying on my legs. One of my buddies was yelling "He is dead Kit, watch out in front of you." As I started firing at movement and muzzle flashes in the tree line I thought: "That other RPG missed the tank." "I wonder where it landed?" Now why I would think those thoughts in the middle of a firefight, I do not know. I guess I must have seen it passing by me when I was blown off the tank or I was going crazy. Go figure! Suddenly, two V. C. soldiers threw two grenades at me. I tried to make myself as small as possible as they landed close to me. Fortunately, I had landed between two furrows of some Vietnamese farmer's garden and the soil within the two furrows absorbed the majority of the blasts. Not long after the grenades exploded, most of the firing stopped and I had a chance to survey the damage to my body. My right shoulder hurt and felt like it was dislocated. I had blood oozing from shrapnel wounds to different parts of my body. My camouflaged helmet cover was partially in my face and there was half of an old fashioned ice tong hooked in my flak jacket. It looked to me like the V. C. soldier that was laying on my legs was about to drag me into the V. C. positions within the tree line. A cold chill went throughout my body when I realized that I had nearly been the main attraction at the torture games the V. C. had probably planned for their entertainment that night. My reverie was interrupted when one of my buddies remarked that I looked like a limp rag doll flying through the air after the RPG hit the tank. He did not think I was alive and could not believe that I could hang onto my rifle. I looked incredulously at him as I asked him to help me get up and point me towards the nearest med-evac chopper.