A Ranma 1/2 Teaser

Name : Flight 174 is Down
By : Jack

C&C please

Author�s Notes :

Hello FFML, I posting two teasers enclosed in one post. The first one I
wrote quite recently, the other was started a long time ago and only
finished yesterday. Anyway, while trying to finish the latter of these
two teasers, another idea popped into my head. After fleshing both of
the ideas out a little in word, I could decide which I wanted to
continue more. So, here�s a teaser to both of them�. If their both not 
totally without merit (cringes) please tell me with one you liked more 
and why. I'll prolly end up writing the one poeple like most and working 
on the other as a side project.

(You might have to read them almost all the way through in order to see
the connection to R 1/2, sorry)


General Warning : The characters and ideas drawn from the series RANMA 
1/2 is controlled exclusively by Rumiko Takahashi, Viz Video, and Kitty 
Enterprises. This work was produced without their knowledge or consent.

Teaser Number One

Name : Flight #174 is Down

Opening Scene: San Francisco International Airport

Bzzt, Bzzt, CLANG CLANG�.

The story opens to the scene of a huge aircraft maintenance hanger. A
blue suited aircraft handler is slowly guiding in a mammoth Japan
Airlines Boeing 747 into the middle of the bay using a pair of signal
sticks in each hand. Giving visual cues to the pilot about his position
in the hanger, as well as navigational guides to get him into the
building safely. All the passengers had disembarked at the terminals and
the airplane was under going its regular scheduled maintenance before
making another overseas flight.

 The crewman easing the plane into the hanger suddenly crossed the two
lightsticks together, giving the signal for the pilot to cut his forward
momentum. The huge airplane lurched forward on its hydraulics before
rolling to a stop in the middle of the maintenance bay. Its
four-turbofan engines slowly spooned down after the pilots cut the
power, when receiving one final signal from the crew chief. The two men
slowly shut down the cockpit, performing one final checklist of shut
down procedures before making their way to the rear of the plane.

  Once the plane grinded to a halt, the maintenance crew sprang into
action. Several men powered down hydraulic bolt strippers and unhinged
several access panels from the plane�s fuselage. An external power cart
was started a hooked into a jumper port located behind the cargo bay.
The nose was taken off so the Doppler weather radar could be inspected.
Access doors in the cargo area were opened so the environ. guys could
check out the oxygen, pressurization seals, and other life-support
equipment. Through out this coordinated event, the crew chief carefully
monitored the activities of the operation while waited for the men to
finish the routine jobs so that he would have an opportunity to do the
higher level maintenance that required more experienced personnel.

 [---]

 �Now honey, if you don�t hold still mommy can�t put your jacket on.�
Undaunted by her advice, a little girl continued to squirm as her mom
tried to put a small blue overcoat on her. It was made off warm fleece
and had a little picture of two chicks (the avian kind) and the words
�piyo piyo� embroidered on the back.

 �But Mommy! I don�t want too! It�s hot in here.�

 �Come on sweetie, the airplane is going to be colder than it is in here
and Japan is really cold this time of year.� The woman held up the
jacket so her daughter could put her hands into the sleeves. �Please
Kiko?�

 The little girl looked at the jacket for a moment and then shook her
head. �No, mommy it�s too hot!� She crossed her arms over her chest and
pouted.

 With a sigh the woman draped the small coat over her arm and turned
back to the rows of stores that lined the sides of the entry building.
�Mika, c�mon honey we have to check our luggage in.�

 A young woman turned from a clothing store�s window display. She
glanced back at some of the dresses hanging off the dummies in the
storefront before rejoining her mother and sister. Mika was a young
girl, who had only recently turned sixteen. She loved reading and
usually carried a large nylon bag wherever she went containing her
reading materials. Delicate, wire-frame glasses were balanced on her
nose; long delicate curls of raven colored hair framed her face. Mika
was cute, all the guys thought so, and it just was hard to break away
from their popular, cheerleader girlfriends to date the bookwormish
Mika.

 �Ok, Mika I have to check in our bags, would you please watch Kiko
while I take care of things?�

 �Sure mom.� Mika shouldered her book bag and reached down to grab
Kiko�s hand.

 �Oh thank you Mika, you�re a real lifesaver.� Mika smiled shyly. Her
mother reached over to smooth her hair and kiss Kiko on the forehead
before walking off towards the ticket counter.

 On the other side of the terminal, another family was grouped together,
but instead of getting ready to go to Japan, they were sending one of
their members off. A middle-aged father and mother, stood by their young
son. He was wearing a dark green US Army Class A dress uniform. Two
large duffel bags rested on the ground at his feet. His chest was devoid
of any awards or ribbons except for a good conduct metal and his
marksman ship badges. A single gold �butter bar� adorned one collar and
a US emblem was on the other. He was nodding his head and munching on a
burger while his father talked to him.

 �Now son, I know this is your first time overseas, now remember the
Japanese do things a lot different then how we do things in the States.
For one thing, they eat a whole lotta raw food. Whadda they call it ?
Sushee, looshi� ?� He turned to his wife to look for confirmation.
�Anyway, you should probably stay away from that stuff until you�ve
tried their milder stuff.�

 �Dad, we had a orientation briefing on Japanese customs, I know about
all this stuff.� The young man said in between bites.

 �Listen, your mother and I are just worried that�s all. Remember to
carry your ID at all times, you got your I.D. cards ?�

 �sigh� �Yes Dad, I have my ID with me.�

 �Visa, Passport, all that?�

 �Yes Dad.� He glanced at his watch, �hey listen, umm we�ve got a while
before my plane boards, why don�t we go get sit down and have a nice
meal before I depart?� He looked at his parents hopefully.

 �Jeez, my son, always eating,� said the mother affectionately, patting
him on the chest.

 �Its healthy, a young guy like him needs to eat a lot to get strong.�
The father looked around the terminal building. �You know, I saw a
really great looking steak house when we came in here, why don�t we go
try em out?�

 �Sounds good Dad.� The young man picked up his two heavy bags.

 �Dear, does it sound like a good plan?�

 The woman sighed softly �Whatever you want dear.�

 �Right, let�s go.� The father purposely strode off to the restaurant
with his wife and son in tow.

[---]

 Down in the maintenance hanger on the other side of the airport, things
were starting to get really noisy. The crewmen had finished their
electrical checklists and where setting up several external power carts
to run diagnostics on the engines. They had the two starboard engines
running at idle and where just starting on the inboard port turbine when
one of the crewmen raced over to the scram button on the side of the
wall and slammed his hand on it. All the power being routed to the plane
through the carts was immediately cut off; the spinning fan discs slowly
began to slow as the start motors disengaged. An alarm sounded through
out the hanger

 The trained crew immediately leaped away from the plane and crouched
behind the large banks of equipment that lined the walls of the hanger.
The crew chief hurried over to the cutoff switch and the man that was
huddled next to it. �WHAT HAPPENED?� he shouted, straining to be heard
above the engine whine that filled the building.

 �I SAW SOMETHING WEIRD WHEN THE TURBINE WAS SPINNING UP. MIGHT BE A
MISAGLINED DISC BLADE.�

 The chief looked over at the engine, �OK, CALL UP THE ENGINE CREWS AND
HAVE THEM GET DOWN HERE. I�LL INFORM THE CONTROL TOWER AND AIRLINE.�
Chief Harding trusted his crew, if one of them said something was
snoopy, there were usually right. Besides, regulations said every
suspicion of mechanical trouble should be thoroughly checked regardless
of effect on departure time, profit margins, or passenger comfort. Even
though the major carriers always started sweating when a flight was
delayed, safety could never be compromised. Harding picked up a white
phone mounted on the wall and pushed a button to raise the control
tower.

 At that moment a gust of wind swept into the hanger. SF International
was known for its fog, wind, and rain. Thank god they didn�t have the
snow problems that other major American Airports faced, but it was still
difficult to operate effectively with the conditions they faced from day
to day. Sea air sure did a number on mechanical systems.

 The wind rushed through the hanger, causing the cabinet doors to rattle
and lighter objects to shift and chatter in place. Most papers in the
room were securely fastened to heavier object of course. Still there
were certain irritations that the crew had to deal with. One of them,
was the fax machine. In the corner of the hanger, next to the access
door that led to the tool room, was a heat resistant formica table.
Resting in a recess in the middle of the table was a fax machine that
the control tower, airline courier, or anyone else that needed to relay
important information to the crews could use to deliver their messages
quickly and efficiently. Diagrams and detailed instructions (i.e.
excepts from manuals) could also be included with the message.

 See, the only real problem was that no one had ever figured out a way
to secure the paper in the feed tray. What with the wind constantly
whistling through the building and the noise deafing, it was just
impossible to secure that paper to the its tray. And it was noisy today.
The wind was howling just a bit stronger than usual, the crewmen were
waiting for the engines to spool down, some to been work inspecting
them, the others to get back to their jobs on other areas of the plane.
The crew chief was busy talking to the control tower, informing the
flight controllers that Japan Airlines Flight 174 was going to be
delayed do to mechanical problems and no, they didn�t know now long it
would take or even if it was fixable in the hour turnaround time they
had been allotted. Everyone was busy.

 That is why it is perfectly reasonable to assume that when the fax
machine whirred to life in the corner of all this controlled chaos�. No
one heard it. And why it is reasonable assume that when the piece of
paper came out of the machine to rest in the tray, no one noticed it.
And if the all these things escaped the perception of ALL the people
working in the hanger, it is petty to criticize them for again not
noticing that message be blown off the feed tray to land face down in a
deep box used to store empty oil cans.

[---]

 Matt Rand was late� again�

 He pursed his lips and placed his right hand on the stick. With a
quick, forceful tap of his right foot he pushed down on the gas pedal
for power, then lifted his foot off the pedal completely while pushing
down with his left, a fast flick of his left hand and the car was in
fifth gear. With a grace and skill that only people who drive manual
transmission vehicles will understand, Matt released the clutch and
stomped on the gas, and started pushing the heavily modified Honda
Civics� speedometer into the triple digits.

 He glanced at the small digital clock mounted in the dash and cursed.
He had awoken naked, which was never a good sign, and looked at his
alarm clock. After waking up enough to realize the little hand was
entirely in the wrong area of the clock, Matt realized he had
overslept�. Again.

 After that the morning�s activities could be described with one slylble
words. Up, run, rinse, soap, rinse, dry, comb, shirt, pants,�. Pants�.
Ah pants�, soda, bag, car, key, drive drive drive.

 Matt looked up � a green overhanging sign read : JUCT HWY 280  *. A few
hunderd meters after that, : San Francisco   38. He looked at the clock
again, 2:45�. He was NOT going to make it.

[---]

 Mika watched her mother as they waited for their flight times. There
was still a lot of time remaining before they had to board the plane.
Almost 30 minutes according to the airport�s clocks. Mika noticed her
mother had fallen into another session of brooding  soon after she
returned with the tickets. <sigh> -Why does she do this ? Its been a
year now and all she ever thinks about is HIM- Well, that wasn;t true,
she considered, there were some times when her mother was distracted
from her prooccupation, usually when Kiko was hurt or when she needed
some advice, but ever since her sixteenth birthday, all her mother could
think of was one person.

 Sometimes she would silently mutter his name over and over again. At
night, she would slip into Mika�s room and stare at her dauther while
she slept. It was spring, students from Mika�s High School walked home
hand in hand (girls paired with boys mostly, but as always, there were
some exceptions), love was in the air, just like the cherry blossoms
where in the Botenical gardens. Her  daughter still walked alone. Again
she muttered that name under her breath. She would find him.

 She would find Genma Saotome.


End of First Teaser

Second Teaser

Name : Anvil Hammer

A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic Teaser

General Warning : The characters and ideas drawn from the series RANMA 
1/2 is controlled exclusively by Rumiko Takahashi, Viz Video, and Kitty 
Enterprises. This work was produced without their knowledge or consent.

This work contains �violence� and adult language. Reader discretion is 
somewhat recommended

 Written By : Jack

Opening Music : Going History [Slayers Sound Bible]

	The Mekong Delta was a wet place. Wet and Muddy, every inch of earth 
that wasn�t  part of the vast system of canals and streams seemed to be 
soaked in an inch of water. Rice farmers built elaborate systems of dams 
and levees to reclaim the land and create large fertile rice paddies in 
the silt lined soil. All manner of wild grasses, flowers, water lilies, 
fish, and shell fish inhabited the flood plain. The major spillways all 
connected together to form a vital network of waterways that provided 
transportation from the major southern port of Vun Tau all the way down 
through the Southern portions of the country and up into the provinces 
surrounding Saigon. Along the way, smaller provincial docks provided the 
farmers with a means to transport their various crops and goods to 
market and a birthing place for the fisherman�s boats.

	The extensive rice fields, the bountiful waters, and transportation 
system made the Mekong Delta the bread basket of Vietnam. Over 2/3rds of 
the countries food came from the region, it was one of the countries� 
greatest assets and its greatest weakness.

|---|

	�Delta Four Niner, this is Hotel Quebec, authenticate : Zulu Indigo 
Fife. Over.�
[The camera opens to a picture of a river at night. A full moon is 
casting light down on the water, creating a fantastic ripple of light 
across the river�s surface. A fisherman 	slowly paddles his skiff down 
stream, trawling a net behind him.]
	
	�Hotel Quebec this is Delta Four Niner. We authenticate Mike Charlie 
Zero Zero. I say again, we authenticate Mike Charlie Zero Zero. 
Authenticate Papa Four Over.�
[The camera angle changes to show a pair of storks slowly picking their 
way through a small side pool of muddy water. They periodically halt 
their movement and turn their heads to stare at the water�s surface, 
looking for fish. One of them snaps its head towards the water and pulls 
back with a wiggling fish in its beak.]

	�Delta Four Niner, this is Hotel Quebec, we authenticate Seven-Tri. To 
all stations, this is the net controller, the net is open. Abbreviated 
call-signs are in effect. Over.�
[A picture of a small dock. Several small river boats are moored to the 
pier.]

	�Four-Niner, this is Command, we have incoming message traffic for your 
station commander. over.�

	�Command, this is Four-Niner, we are ready to receive. Over.�
[As the full moon slowly rises to its apex in the clear sky, several 
small canoes are pushed into the calm river water. There are several 
tightly wrapped bundles in each canoe. Two people step into the first 
canoe and place mats made of woven banana leaves over the bundles.]

	�Four-Niner, you have received new orders from command. This is your 
warno, I say again this is your warno. You are to preform a recon of 
nearby sector located in grid zone designator Alpha-Golf Niner Four Tri 
Six Six Four Two. Recon unit will NOT engage any hostiles encountered 
during mission. I say again, recon unit will NOT engage any hostiles 
encountered. This is an intel gathering mission only Mission will 
commence at 2200 hours and is set to end by 0600 on 28/12/67. Do you 
copy ?�
	�Four Niner copies.�
	�Four Niner, stand by for further information. Over.�
	�This is Four-Niner. Wilco�
|---|

	The first canoe pushed off the bank and slowly drifted into the middle 
of the river. Several people got into each of the canoes that were still 
resting on the bank. Each craft had several similarly wrapped bundles 
laying at the bottom of the boats. After the lead canoe has pushed off 
the bank and made its way into the main current of the river, each canoe 
slowly pushed off the bank and followed it until they were all heading 
down the river, spaced out from the lead canoe and each other at 400 
meter intervals.

	[In the lead vessel] Mai Ly stood at the canoe�s bow, slowly guiding 
the small boat down the river. She scanned the horizon, looking for any 
other boats on the river.  Thankfully, they seemed to be the only people 
on the river. At the back of the small boat, Anh Dinh was nervously 
fidgeting with one of the bundles.
	
	�Psst... Anh, stop that. You�re making a lot of noise back there.
	
	The young man, barely out of puberty looked up from a bundle with huge 
sacred eyes. �...ssoorrrryyy Miss Ly... I was just checking the...�
	
	�Yes, yes I know... don�t worry about it. I made sure everything was in 
order before we left..�
	
	�But, but, but, what iiff sssomething iss�nt�
	
	The woman gave a small sigh. *Anh is sweet, but he doesn�t have any 
confidence in himself.* �Anh, please don�t worry... something must be 
bothering you... what is it ?�

	The young man fidgeted some more. He stole a quick glance at the young 
lady aat the front of the boat. Anh was glad he had volunteered to be in 
the lead boat. He couldn�t imagine talking about his feelings with any 
of the grizzled men that were in the other boats following them.

	�I�m.... I�m scared Mai Ly.... really scared.... some of my family is 
in Sa---- I mean the objective and... well... I.. I was just worried 
about them... and about what we�re gonna.. �

	Mai turned around and looked at the frightened youth at the back. She 
slowly placed her guide pole down and moved to the back of the boat. 

	 �Anh... is perfectly natural to be frightened. A big thing is about to 
happen, the unfolding of a marvelous plan. We are important parts of 
that plan, with a huge responsibility, I understand your fear.... Where 
do your relatives live ?�
	
	Anh nervously untwined his fingers into various intricate designs 
before answering. �They live just outside the city proper... in Cho 
Lon.�

	�I�m sure they�ll be safe. Do they support our cause ?�

	�Yes�

	�Then there is nothing to worry about. Who knows ? they may be 
instrumental in helping us when the time comes.�

	�Well... what about the Ameri....�

	�Nonsense,� said Mai, cutting him off in mid-sentence. �We�ll make it 
Anh.� Mai wrapped one of her arms around the young man�s shoulders. �As 
soon as we pass the canal that will lead us through the delta I�ll sing 
a song, OK ?�

	Anh�s spirits visibly improved. Mai had the most beautiful voice he had 
ever heard. During last year�s lunar celebrations she had been given an 
award for her wondrous singing. The judges had said her voice was enough 
to call the goddesses down from the seven heavens. Binh, one of the old 
veterans he hated, had joked that she had better stay away from 
graveyards, lest she raise the dead. Anh had shaken in anger as the man 
and his cronies laughed at the joke.

	�Can I request I song ?�

	�Sure Anh, what would you like to hear ?�

	�Something uplifting please.�

	�Sure, just as soon as we pass into open waters, ok ?�

	�Ok Mai.�

|---|

	As the flotilla of boats slowly made its way down the river system, 
another group of people were following the same stream bed.

	The commanding officer of B company had sent out his alpha platoon to 
carry out the mission orders that he had received. It was a simple 
mission, if a little out of the ordinary considering the times. With the 
two respective governments trying to hammer out a peace treaty in Paris, 
a cease fire in effect all across the DMZ and surrounding 
countryside,.... seemed foolish for command to stick their necks out by 
ordering a recon of the delta system. Still, orders were orders and he 
had sent Sargent First Class Kearns with a reinforced platoon to preform 
the mission.

	Kearns had been with the company since the early opening years of the 
1960�s and was familiar with the area. Besides, the officer had 
reasoned, he had to be ready to hop on the freedom bird that would be 
carrying him back to the rest of the world in a week while Kearns had 
just signed on for another tour. No need to take on additional risk if 
the platoon sergeant was willing to do it.

	First platoon had been reinforced to 40 men before leaving the firebase 
that was their station for their portion of the Sector 4 operations 
zone. Sgt Kearns had insisted on humping out with an additional M60 and 
FAC team before leaving the base behind and heading out into the field. 
Most men carried a small ruck with had their poncho liners and other wet 
weather gear. Some had the misfortune of carrying a URC-10 squad radio, 
the PRC (prick) - 77 was a joy reserved for the RTO, who got to lug 
around an extra 30 pounds plus spare batteries. Other than that each man 
had his LBE/V which was tripped out with extra ammo pouches, maps, 
flashlights, 2 days worth of rations, and a staggering 8 quarts of 
water. Anyone also carried 2 belts of linked ammunition for the 
platoon�s two machine guns in their packs or slung around their 
shoulders.

	The men were formed into two squads, one on each side of the river they 
were following. Second and third squad covered the east side of the 
river while 1st squad and the heavy weapons squad took the west side. 
Each man covered down on the one front of him, but kept a slight stagger 
between him and the man in front. Care was also taken so that each 
person wasn�t parallel with a troop on the other side of the river. This 
tactic was to avoid enemy machine gunners being able to hit multiple 
targets with one burst, sadly it was a lesson reinforced with plenty of 
experience.

	SFC Kearns walked with 1st and 4th squads on the west side of the bank. 
He had a young NCO named Cruger with the men on the east side.  Even in 
the early hours of the evening, the jungle was still incredibly humid. 
Sweat dripped from every man�s body as they made their way towards the 
predesignated point where they would set up their listening post.

	Sweat that mixed dirt and sap from the plants that touched or rubbed up 
against to form a gritty film that stuck to their skin and made them 
feel miserable. Orders had been given not to smoke, and strict noise and 
light discipline was in effect to conceal their movement. They had made 
fairly good time. The objective was less than 16 kilometers away. A 3 
hour march if they good keep up their current pace. 
	Sgt. Kearns looked over his command as they marched south. B company 
had seen a lot of action in recent months. They had been forced to be 
almost completely refitted several times with fresh replacements, due to 
crippling loses in the central highlands. They had been transferred to 
lower-key sector duty in the Mekong Delta as a respite from the bloody 
fighting they had been engaged in near Phu Bai. Sadly, the Mekong Delta 
was proving to be just as hostile as the mountains around Hue.

	The platoon was starting to move out of the thick jungle that had 
surrounded their WFB. The land was turning into a series of interlinked 
crop fields. Dikes had been erected to divert some of the water flow to 
the paddies that hugged the river bank. Tall water reeds lined the soft 
earthen banks of the river, some lotus plants floated on pools of still 
water that were created by the twisting path of the banks. Kearns halted 
the platoon briefly to shoot an azimuth and check the pace count before 
continuing towards the objective.

|---|
	
	The small boat had found the main tributary that led North towards Gia 
Dinh. From this river, the small convoy would be able to reach their 
rally point in a few days. Mai glanced back at Anh, who had fallen 
silent at the back of the boat. He was curled against the back and was 
using his left arm to operate the rudder. Mai turned around and smiled 
slightly  when he couldn�t see her. When they had completed their 
assignment, she would cure him of his shyness. 
	But now was time for that song she had promised. Lifting her head 
slightly to catch the breeze, Mai starting began softly humming a soft, 
enchanting tune. She was singing to calm Anh, but also to make sure the 
boats behind them were able to keep up once complete darkness had 
fallen.
	�Mua thu roi hgay hai moui ba ...�
	[The twenty-thrid of an August...]
	Anh sat up from his niche in the back of the boat and leaned forward 
intently to listened to her song. When he recognized the tune, he 
grinned broadly and sat up ramrod straight, puffing out his chest and 
started silently mouthing the words with her.
	�ta ra di theo tieng kiu son ha nguy bien...�
	[we responded to the call of our nation...]
	Mai turned to look at Anh, who was now standing in the back of the 
boat, watching her fascination. Mai smiled and turned around to watch 
the river. She continued to sing in her melodious silver bell voice.
	�Ren kahp troi, toi hoan ho, dan quan ta nhip,...�
	[From sea to shore, from towns to hamlets, ...]

|---|

	*What the hell is that ?* Sgt. Kearns tilted his head. He could�ve 
sworn he had heard something different in the sound of the wind. A 
strange noise, something out of place with the normal rustle of the 
vegetation.
	�Sergeant Shaw, did you hear that sound ?� called Kearns to the 4th 
squad leader who was off to his right.
	�Yes I did sergeant, it sounds like someone singing.�
	�Jesus, can you tell where its coming from ?�
	�Definitely coming from the direction of travel. Its just some farmer�s 
daughter singing to herself.�
	�Maybe, I still can�t make it out.�
	�Ok, I�ll call a hold session when we get to that ridge up ahead,� 
Kearns pointed to a spot in the distance where the ground rose up 
slightly just before a bend in the river. �See it ? Right over there by 
the fork., about 200 meters.�
	�I see it Sgt., how long you wanna wait ?�
	�Until I know what the hell is coming down this river.� Kearns focused 
on the horizon for a moment, �okay, you be ready to sit with the point 
man when I halt us up.�
	�Right, you want to set up a little LP before we move on ?�

	Kearns turned his head to look at the river fork they were closing on, 
after thinking for a moment he nodded slowly. �Yeah, why don�t we do 
that. Alright, when we halt up take Mather with you, scout out no more 
than half a klick then report back, take a URC with you.�	

	�Sounds good Sergeant.�

	�Start moving up to the front of the formation.�

	Sgt. Shaw turned around and signaled to his assistant to take over 
control of the squad before shuffling up through the formation towards 
the point man who was creeping leading the platoon through the 
vegetation.

	After walking for another hundred meters or so, SFC. Kearns held up his 
right hand and signaled for the formation to stop. Everyone dropped to a 
knee after no other commands were given a few seconds later. Kearns 
signaled to the men across the river to halt as well before giving the 
signal for the men to get into the prone.

	Each man lowered his self to the ground and started low crawling until 
they had formed an oval shaped 360 perimeter with Kearns in the center. 
The tail-end Charlie took his place at the rear of the �circle� with his 
weapon facing the rear. Up in front the point man was alternating 
between looking back at the squad leaders and keeping an eye on the 
ground in front of them. Men on both sides of the river began scanning 
the surrounding countryside, each trying to figure out why they had 
halted several kilo�s from their objective. Was  there a man missing ? 
Did someone lose a sensitive piece of equipment ? A booby trap in the 
grass ? 40 pairs of eyes searched the terrain for clues, and wherever 
their eyes looked, their weapon muzzles followed.

	Sergeant Shaw crept up to the point man and laid down next to him. 
Specialist Mather was the platoon point man. A young kid out of the 
South Bronx, Mather was cool during fire and had an ingrained ability to 
spot traps and ambushes. People say he could smell out Charlie when they 
were near. Shaw explained their orders quickly and hefted the radio he 
had borrowed from a squad leader while working his way up to the point 
man�s position. Mather gave the terrain they were to scout a quick once 
over and started explaining the approach route they should take, 
pointing out good places to hide and make their reports along the route. 
A light mist was beginning to settle down on the delta and Mather had to 
point out a few of the places twice in order for Shaw to spot them. 
After double checking to make sure Shaw understood his plan, Mather 
began to slow-walk towards the bank of the river. Sergeant Shaw gave him 
a ten meter head start before following behind.

	As both men began working their way towards the LP, Sergeant Kearns 
began expanding the original perimeter than had been set up when the 
platoon had first halted. He linked up both elements so that 1st and 4th 
squads covered a 180 degree sector on the east side of the river while 
2nd and 3rd squads took the remaining half-circle on the west side. Two 
men from each sector were in the river�s waters so that they could have 
a long LOS down the channel.

	Kearns moved to the center of the circle and crouched down in the tall 
grasses so he couldn�t be seen. It wasn�t  the most ideal defensive 
position, the vegetation offered good camouflage but was lacking in 
things that could stop bullets. He took a moment to reposition some men 
that were out of place before settling down to focus on the two scouts 
that were advancing forward.

|---|
	
	They were approaching the first of several forks in the river that 
flowed down from the mountains into the Delta. At this point, they would 
steer the craft right and continue going up river until they reached the 
dragon�s mouth valley that held the province of My Tho. 

	There were people in the provincial capital that would be able to give 
them the additional information and supplies they would need before they 
headed further North. Anh began placed his hand firmly on the steering 
oar, ready to  move it in the desired way with the boat reached the 
turning point. Mai continued to sing in the front of the boat. The song 
had a double purpose. It was serving to boost the morale of the troops, 
but more importantly, the music would keep the boats from losing one 
another in the pitch black darkness that was settling in over the 
low-laying valley.

	�cham tien den tran lien....�
	[Citizens and soldiers thunder with applause, side by side to battle we 
gallantly march...]
	
|---|

	*Wait a minute... Thats.. a song. A rally song.* Sgt. Kearns listened 
to the faint sounds again. In the jungle, the slightest sound was 
carried an ungodly long distance. He had definitely heard the sound of 
someone singing in Vietnamese. A female, singing in Vietnamese. Not a 
radio, not a AVRN broadcast. Kearns strained to hear any other sounds 
coming from the jungle ahead. 
	*I hate quiet, always so goddamn quiet out here. I wanna be in Saigon, 
I wanna be in a city with... music, and people, people that don�t wanna 
kill me, I want good food, clean water....* Kearns shook his head in 
exasperation. Again, his mind had drifted from the situation in the 
field to thoughts of leave and relaxation. The men were slugging through 
the mud while he dreamed of R&R. Kearns mentally chastised himself for 
becoming unfocused when another irritating situation developed.

	 His nervous twitch had come back, that irritating tick he had 
developed on the left side of his face. It was probably nothing, a 
slightly misaligned blood vessel, or perhaps an aggravated nerve 
triggering a muscle spasm. He reached up with his left hand and touched 
his face. The tick was there, he could feel it, a throb of blood beneath 
the skin. Kearns applied some pressure, hoping to cease the spasm, but 
it didn�t seem to be helping today. There was nothing wrong with having 
a slight twitch though, his hands were still rock steady , he didn�t 
break out in cold sweats at night, no nightmares, the only side effect 
after 2 years of constant fighting was a minor muscle spasm. He could 
live with something like that.

	Kearns searched the jungle lining the banks of the shore, Shaw and 
Mather had disappeared into the dense vegetation while he was day 
dreaming. Kearns swore under his breath, he has been slipping recently. 
But it was nothing a little boom-boom in Saigon�s red light district 
wouldn�t fix. He spotted the recon team crouching behind a fallen tree 
several hundred meters downstream. A dark shape was also coming into 
view down the river. The small object was slowly making its way upstream 
towards the platoon�s position.

|---|

	Specialist Mather and Sgt. Shaw slowly worked their way through the 
underbrush that lined the river bank. Both men were on edge, sweat 
trickling down their faces in rivers. With each step they took, the soft 
muddy ground sucked their boots in several  centimeters before they 
could pull their feet out of the brown slime. Mather changed directions 
frequently to avoid bushes of elephant grass, whose thin leaves could 
slice open a soldier�s leg if brushed against.

	They were both crouched down, trying to keep as much concealing matter 
between them and the river as possible. Up ahead, a small ridge rose up 
along a slight turn in the river. The side of it was covered with lemon 
grass and assorted mustard greens, their yellow flowers barely visible 
in the moonlight. Mather turned around and pointed to the top of the 
ridgeline, once again indicating where he wanted to set up the LP. Shaw 
nodded slightly as he struggled through the muck to catch up. Mather 
dropped to the ground and began low-crawling up the side of the ridge. 
Using his elbows to slightly prop up his body and to cradle his rifle so 
it didn�t drag in the dirt, Mather began inching up towards the top. 

	After finally slogging through the worst of the mud, Shaw crouched down 
and watched Mather crawling up the side of the hill. The thought of 
getting down in the muddy tracks he was laying down in the grass didn�t 
appeal to him. With a sigh, he got down in the prone position and began 
following Mather�s path up the side of the ridge, taking care to avoid 
the larger patches of mud and grime as he proceeded up. 	

	Mather slowly slithered onto the top of the ridge.  He rolled slightly 
to his left and reached for the bayonet that was hanging from his web 
gear. Once he had undone the bit of five-fifty cord he used to hold the 
knife in place, he grasped the knife and used it to cut a bundle of 
lemon grass that was next to him.  He then took off his steel pot and 
slipped the grass in between the openings of the nylon webbing that 
covered the helmet. More grass was tucked into the band that secured the 
webbing in place. When he was satisfied the helmet looked like the top 
of a bush, Mather slipped the helmet back on and rose on his hunches to 
look  down at the river.
	
	He saw the river, twisting its way through the countryside, the various 
ferns and reeds dipping into the water. On the river, traveling up 
stream, where seven small boats. Five of them, including the lead boat, 
were small two person canoe-like craft while the other two resembled a 
Chinese junk/rowboat hybrid that might have been able to hold several 
people. The singing coming from the lead boat was could be clearly heard 
now.

	Mather twisted his upper body so he could look at Shaw. The sergeant 
was trying to unreel the URC�s short whip antenna and meld into the 
grass at the same time. Mather waited until he had the sergeant�s 
attention and then relayed the information to him using hand signals. 
Seven boats, five small, two medium, unknown number of contacts. Shaw 
keyed the mike and began giving the report.

|---|

	�...I say again, LP sees seven unidentified craft. Five, two person 
boats, accompanied by two medium-sized river craft.� There was a burst 
of static as Sgt. Shaw released the mike.
	
	Sergeant Kearns winced as he turned volume knob down. �Serria, Can you 
identify the occupants of the craft ? Over.�

	There was a slight pause before the reply filtered back. �Negative.�

	�Sierra, what is the total length of the convoy ?�

	*pzzztttt* �Estimated to be fife zero zero meters at this time, over.� 
*pzzzzt*

	Kearns mulled this over for a little bit. �Sierra, continue observing, 
we will contact you again in ten mikes. Over.� Sgt Kearns called for the 
squad leaders to rally in the middle of the circle with him. When they 
had crowded around him , he laid out his plan.
	
	�Ok, you cool cats, as you may or may not already know, there�s a small 
convoy of boats heading up the river. Now, we don�t know if they�re 
enemy or just some people heading to the capital for the new year, but 
lets not take any chances.� Heads nodded all around the circle. The 
platoon was full of combat veterans, they were used to playing close to 
the chest.

	�We�re gonna set up a hasty ambush right where the river forks. The 
current is stronger there, hopefully they�ll have tio struggle against 
it and bunch up together when they try to go through. I want the 60 on 
the little island in the center of the fork and everyone else along the 
western bank. Rig up your claymores, just in case.�	

	One of the younger squad leaders raised his hand.

	�Yeah, Roberts, whats on your mind ?�

	�Umm, how will we know if the people on the boats are Charlie ?�

	�The 60�ll be rocking and rolling, thats how. If and when the machine 
gun opens up, that�ll be your signal to cut loose. Answer your question 
?�

	The young corporal nodded sheepishly. Kearns looked around the circle 
again, pausing at each face to study it before he moved on. He saw, with 
the exception of Roberts, a collection of hardened soldiers staring back 
at him, each one had an expressionless face, but their eyes shone with 
excitement. Kearns was vaguely aware of an unusual feeling that swept 
through him for a moment. Was it a slight chill ? A moment of 
apprehension ? Kearns ignored it.

	�Alright, one more time, we wait until the lead boat passes through the 
kill zone. If the 60 team starts up, you know their VC. Blow the mines, 
full auto one mag, and check for effect. IF they are hostile, I want the 
people in the first boat kept alive IF possible.�

	Kearns looked up from his plan, which he had drawn up in the dirt. Four 
pairs of steeled eyes stared back. �Ok, broddas lets do this shit.�

	The squad leaders returned to their men. Kearns scurried over to the MG 
team that was huddled behind a small ditch on the perimeter. The machine 
gun was manned by Pfc. Sanchez, and Cpl. Spears an old, experienced 
team. They were cool under fire, and wouldn�t break. Kearns was glad to 
have them. 

	�Hey, whats going on top ?� asked Sanchez has Kearns crouched by their 
hole.

	�We got some unknowns heading our way, so I�m setting up a little hasty 
to greet them. You guys are gonna move over near the fork in the river 
so the 60�ll have a better LOS.�

	�Jeez, right when I was getting comfortable sergeant.�

	�Yeah, yeah get your asses in gear.� Kearns jerked a thumb towards the 
place he wanted the team to set up.

	Reluctantly, they picked up the machine gun and sneaked over to the 
small finger of land that made up the dividing line between the two 
streams of water.   Sanchez began laying out several belts of ammunition 
where they would be kept clean and within easy reach. Spears adjusted 
the bipod slightly and did a quick functions check as they bedded down 
in their new hiddy hole.  The team created the final leg of the L-shaped 
ambush line.  A nightmare for anyone caught in it.

	Sgt. Kearns crouched down beside them. The lead boat was beginning to 
cross into the formation�s kill zone.

|---|
	
	�Nuoc voi dao, chan khong guay, ma long ngoui giam long vi nuoc.�
	[Water and broad swords, bare-footed, we set out for our country]

	Mai guided the raft towards the fork in the river. Nearby, 42 pairs of 
eyes watched her boat float past them. Sweating palms clenched weapons, 
fingers slipped into trigger guards while safety switches were flipped 
off. Someone brushed up against a plant, causing its leaves to rustle. 
Mai knelt down and reached for something at the bottom of the boat. 
Several men tensed, waiting for her to whirl around with an AK or a hand 
grenade, but it was only a water gourd. 

	One soldier, laying towards the end of the ambush line hugged a det. 
clacker close to his chest, waiting for the signal to blow the mines. 
All eyes watched the lead boat slowly pass through the kill zone towards 
the fork in the river and the 60 team.

	�Co tham phat-pho ngang troi, sao vang xao-xinh khap noi bun bien...�
	[Dance across the land, red flags with a yellow star, We us children of 
Viet-Nam, pledge to our ancestors that,...]
	
	*Good god they�re VC.* Kearns leaned forward and raised his rifle. He 
let his left arm drop from his rifle�s mag housing and held it above 
Cpl. Spear�s shoulder.

	The lead boat passed out of the kill zone, the shadow in the back was 
pushing it up the river. The rest of the boats had to struggle against 
the stronger current as they neared the fork. They had closed the 
distance between each other, now being only 150-200 meters apart. All 
but two were in the kill zone.

	�mot long nguyen voi to tien.�
	[we shall fight as they had fought for freedom]

	Mai held the last few words and ended the song with a flourish. She 
turned to look at Anh, giving him a sweet smile. He had a huge smile on 
his face, the young man�s eyes were shining in the moonlight, filled 
with excitement and wonder.

	Some of the men in the following boats also exchanged small smiles, 
they were at the first waypoint, everything was going according to plan.  
Someone took out a flask of rice wine and passed it around.

	A young private swore to himself. Just a few more days, a few more days 
and he would be back home, back home with his fiancee, home cooking, and 
warm beds.

	Mai turned around to watch a group of birds take suddenly take to the 
air from the small island the fork in the river created. A worried frown 
appeared on her face.

	Sgt. Kearns mouthed the last words of the song to himself. He turned 
his head to check on the lead boat, it was well past the fork. Kearns 
flipped his rifle upside down and pointed it towards the oncoming line 
of boats, with his free hand, he tapped Spears on the shoulder. Cpl. 
Spears quickly glanced up at Kearns. Seeing the signal Kearns has 
giving, he turned back, quickly crossed himself while bracing the weapon 
against his shoulder and squeezed the trigger.

	Bullets roared out of the machine gun, the tracer rounds leaving a 
smoking path as they flew downrange and embedded themselves in the sides 
of the boats. Spent casings poured out of the gun along with discarded 
links. Spears kept firing controlled bursts, working his fire along each 
of the boats when they came into view.

	Hearing the 60 open  up, the rest of the platoon raised their weapons 
and opened fire, adding the lighter rattle of their M16�s to the load 
roar of the machine gun. Bullets tore into the wood/reed boats, ripping 
apart the paddles, frame, and men that were inside them. Bullet casings 
glinted in the moonlight before splashing into the river or landed in 
the grass where they smothered.

	The men in the boats didn�t have a chance. Several tried jumping into 
the river or ducking down into the bottoms of their vessels.  Frags 
followed those who tried to jump into the water, the grenaderies began 
using their M-79 �thumpers� to blow apart the flimsy boats with 
40mikemike grenades. Flesh and wood were blasted apart, the muddy waters 
gained an orange tint.

	The ten men under Cpl. Cruger vaulted out of the reeds to assault the 
lead boat. Mai snapped her head around just in time to see two men 
crashing through the water at her before a rifle butt smashed into her 
temple.

	Bolts locked once mags were emptied of bullets. Men hit released 
buttons on fumbled with their ammo pouches for fresh magazines. The 
machine gun stopped rattling while Sanchez fed in another belt.

	Two VC soldiers from one of the rear boats had managed to grab their 
AK�s from the bottom of their boat and half-valuted, half-stumbled out 
into the churning water. They charged the ambush line, firing wildly as 
they charged towards the embankment. One was almost sliced in half by a 
burst of machine gun fire, the other made it to the bank and pounded up 
the small berm. 

	As the rebel crested the small molehill, Pfc. Davis looked up from his 
fighting hole to see the soldier looming over him. He snapped up his 
rifle just as the man was reaching into his pajama pocket. Davis pulled 
the trigger, five, incredibly fast counter-clockwise rotating bullets 
popped out and ripped through the man�s upper chest and neck. Fine jets 
of arterial blood flowed misted out, like ocean spray. The arm came out 
of the pocket as the man fell into Davis�s hole in a boneless heap.

	It had been a picture perfect ambush. The attacking unit had secured an 
area of terrain that provided them with the best possible amount of 
cover and concealment while denying it to their victims.  The enemy had 
to pass through an open, high-speed avenue of approach that has 
distanced from any defensive terrain that could use, the initial attack 
at been initiated with complete surprise, accuracy, and skill. Ninety 
percent of the enemy force had been neutralized in the first 10 seconds.

	Seeing this, the platoon eased its fire. The 60 team stopped raking the 
area with bullets and started looking for individual targets. Davis 
pushed the dead soldier out of his hole. A potato masher (a type of 
grenade) from the man�s hand rolled into it.
	
	The men around him swore, then fanatically scrabbled to safety.
	
	*Oh shit.....* one-one thousand, *Ahhhh grenadegrenadegrenade*, two-one 
thousand, Davis stared at the object in terror. His mind locked up, he 
couldn�t think of anything, all his training deserted him, 
three-thousand *Get it out of here* He desperately kicked at the 
grenade, it moved several inches and sank into the mud 
*fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckI�mfucked* Davis reached over and grabbed the 
handle with his left hand. four-one thousand. The grenade exploded.

	The small chunk of explosive quickly changed forms, switching from a 
reasonably stable solid into a mass of rapidly expanding hot gas. The 
force of it pushed Davis�s fingers out of its way, then his hand, most 
of his lower arm, and almost pushed his legs out from under him before 
running out of force. So, instead of a violent, nerve jarring trip 
through the air, his legs simply collapsed out from under him. A 
surprised grunt escaped him when he hit the ground.

	A dozen 16�s zeroed in on the explosion and sent a storm of lead lead 
into the space Davis had occupied seconds before.

	�CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!�

	A couple of rifles set on automatic popped off the last rounds in their 
magazines.

	�I SAID STOP SHOOTING GODDAMNIT!�

	The firing abated. One of the newer troops rose out of his fighting 
position, �What the hell is going... � His squad leader grabbed the back 
of his LBE harness and jerked, sending him back down into his hole with 
a muddy squelch. 

	One of the men that used to be next tio Davis in the firing line crept 
up to his position and looked in. He covered his mouth with both hands 
and made a beeline for the river. Another soldier, intrigued, crawled 
over for a look , ... �MEDIC!�

	A man in the rear began working his way to where Davis had fallen. 
Kearns rose up on his haunches and took a quick look around before 
standing up.

	�Everybody up, Cruger, make take your squad and make sure the area is 
secure.� Kearns quickly scanned the fields. �Fall into a perimeter, 
Shaw, start searching those bodies.� Another glance at the medics 
working on Davis. �And double tap all the goddamn VC.�

	The platoon swung into action. Two squads quickly fell out of the 
ambush line and reestablished a 360 perimeter that was centered on the 
wreckage of the destroyed convoy. Cruger�s squad began tying up the two 
prisoners with bits of 5-50 cord while the command squad searched the 
wreckage with Sergeant Kearns.  

	�Sergeant! We found a whole outta contra around these boats.� That was 
to be expected.  The questions was... what kind of contraband. The type 
of cargo might give a clue as two the purpose of these little VC 
excursion. �Looks like a bunch of demo equipment, tools, rifles and 
grenades for everyone in this little detail. They found an RPD in one of 
the boats to the rear.�

	Kearns walked up to the half-floating wreckage of a raft. Underneath a 
large bean pastry was a sizable stash of blasting caps, the fuses 
already attached. In 3-gallon water drum lashed to the underside of the 
boat was a brick-sized hunk of explosive.
	
	�They also have wiring, a little more fuse making equipment, all 
wrapped up in shit the slopes like to give each other for the new year.�

	Kearns looked into another boat. This one had a large waterproof metal 
case that as lashed down to the boat�s frame. �Whats this ?�

	�Oh, we thought it was a shaped charge at first, but...� Cruger popped 
open the case�s seals. �Its filled with these little vials covered with 
gook writing.� Inside the container was a neat collection of small glass 
flasks. Each held two to three ounces of water, was stopped by a piece 
of cork, and had a label on the side.

	�No one were recognizes the writing. Must be one of the more obscure 
gook languages.�

	Kearns  favored Cruger with a slightly peeved look, �Its not �Gook� 
_Corporal_ its Chinese,� another look at the symbols, �Maderian I 
think.�

	Cruger shrugged his shoulders as if to say �I don�t know and I don�t 
really care.� Kearns carefully set the flask back into the case and 
closed the lid. Near the case was a ratty folder that contained several 
pieces of weathered parchment. They were all covered in the same Chinese 
script that was on the bottles. Kearns took out his flashlight and shone 
the dim red light on the papers, Cruger peered over his shoulder in an 
effort to get a better look.

	�Corporal, get the RTO over here, battalion will wanna know about what 
went down here tonight... shit, and we need a dustoff.� He snaked a hand 
under his flak jacket and started rubbing a spot on his lower back.
	
	�You gonna tell them we found a bunch of tubes filled with spring water 
?� Cruger grabbed the handset from the radioman and passed it to Sgt 
Kearns.

	Kearns glanced up briefly at Cruger before replying. �No, I�m gonna 
tell the S-2  we found a group of Victor Charlies trying to infiltrate 
into the South.... again.� Kearns frowned at the papers and their 
cryptic letters, �Though, I�d sure like to know what the hell this 
says...  alright, go check the permi and make sure everybody is laying 
chilly. Check ammo, water and all that... this is leech country, you 
might wanna make sure there�s salt to pass around.�

	Sgt. Kearns keyed the mike.
=====

	�Ok freeze it here.�

	With a ratching sound and a groan of protest, an ancient film projector 
froze on an image of Sgt. Kearns keying a handset mike to communicate 
with someone. Although the image wasn�t in focus, and the edges of the 
film were yellow with age, a viewer could still make out the two 
prisoners tied together in the background and a case of small flasks 
laying on the ground at his feet.

	Two cheap government issue plastic chairs were placed  just in front of 
the projector. In each chair sat a suited man. They postures suggested 
hours of sitting in uncomfortable positions, their clothes were wrinkled 
from multiple attempts at shifting weight, rearranging articles of 
clothing, and other attempts to relieve the aching that had settled into 
their backs

	The man on the right ran his thick fingers through salt and pepper 
hair, the room was hot and stuffy, causing his brow to sweat profusely. 
And when his forehead again its metabolic cooling process, his hair 
suffered as well, the sweat would run down the sides of his face, mixing 
with his sideburns and the stubble of his facial hair to create a 
sticky, greasy, thoroughly disgusting feeling.

	The man on the left fared much better than his partner. Age hadn�t left 
its mark on him yet. Although he physique wasn�t nearly up to par with 
the man on his right. Where the older person was barrel-chested, the 
younger had a sickly gaunt.  The older man had column like legs, his 
companion�s toothpick thin supports seemed ready to snap at any moment. 
But he had a kind face, a thick stock of brown hair, and delicate 
features that attracted the ladies.

	His partner was convinced he was a pansy. Look at him, even now 
studying his fingernails, tucking stray bits of hair back behind his 
ears while recrossing his legs every five minutes. *Only I get the 
queers.... god, there is no god* Before the young man could do anything 
more irritating the senior agent began talking.

	�So, this.... Kearns was the person who found the first �samples� of 
the project ?�

	The junior agent looked at his clipboard before answering. �Yes, 
Sergeant First Class/ now Sergeant Major John Kearns, born 1945, weighs 
245 lbs, joined U.S. Army in November 1963, Height 5�11...

	�Ok , ok thats enough of that. What has he been doing the last few 
years ?�	 The other man flipped a few pages. 

	�Records say he�s been moving around overseas. Finished a 13 month 
stint in Korea several weeks ago and is currently operating out of 
China.� He scanned a few more pages. �Ah, he is temporarily attached to 
a M.I. unit gathering intel on the Three Gorges project.�

	The senior agent stroked his chin thoughtfully. �So he�s in China right 
now ?� 

	�Yes Sir, he is ?�

	 The other man thought for a  moment. �Get another tape of him, I want 
to take a more in depth look at �Sergeant Kearns.� 

	
	The other agent quickly made a few more notes on the appropriate page.

	�And you can put him down as a candidate for team leader, now find some 
more tapes... and get the files on the other three people we have 
slotted for the other postions in here.� 

	�Yes Sir.�

	(To Be Continued)
	
---

Author�s Notes :

Please reply to either PRC_77@hotmail.com or waffen@.ix.netcom.com

Thank you

Well, one of my half-baked ideas thats been fleshed out slightly. I 
jolted this down on a blank page in my CTT manual about a year ago. In 
that time I started to write down some ideas concerning the direction I 
wanted the story to take and how I could steer it in that direction. 
Countless times during the writing process I would take a break for a 
week or so and completely rethink my approach to certain events. I 
rewrote the first chapter six times, maybe more.

Finally, I decided to write this �little� teaser and post it to see what 
people thought of the base idea in the first place, to see if the 
original idea even had any merit to begin with. So, I would greatly 
appreciate any thoughts, C&C, remarks, etc. you the reader might have. I 
am particularly interested in what you think of the characters involved. 
I know that this beginning might not give you much of an opportunity to  
have a look at their personality, but any conclusions you might have to 
be welcome.

PS : To any old soldiers on the FFML that were around that the time. I 
can�t quite remember when the Army finally phased out the M-14 from 
general service. I recall it being used through out the war by SF units 
and people that had arrived in the early 60�s but I think the draftee�s 
stopped showing up with them in... 1966 maybe 65.


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