We started out well-organized, or as well-organized as anything in the army was. We were at full strength with three squads of two fireteams each and ... weapons squad with an M-60 machine gun. Each fire team had a Sergeant with three stripes in charge, a Spec4 with an automatic rifle (me), and three ordinary pukes with rifles. The squad leader, a Staff Sergeant, had four stripes. Our platoon leader was a 2nd Lieutenant with a radioman and a platoon sergeant, a Sergeant First Class with five. “Should I call the paramedics, honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”Swiveling on her chair to look straight at me, she continued. “Has the cat got your tongue, honey? You’ve normally got plenty to say for yourself. What’s wrong? Getting cold feet about handing your pretty little wife over to some big bad black man for the evening?”Sue giggled, as she could see that her words were just making my predicament worse, enjoying her own joke.Finally, I managed to squeeze a word out through a. More

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