One of the few stories I have shared with my kids about Vietnam, a request from the Hyperborean Wanderer.
As I was settling into my new digs, one of the old guys came up to me and gave me a spent .50 cal bullet. He told me it was his >
lucky bullet given him by an old timer when he was a FNG. No one who had carried that bullet around had been wounded. I felt>
like that was a pretty good deal. Within a few days he rotated back the the land of the big PX and I developed the habit of carrying the bullet around in my left breast pocket.
On a particularly ugly night a firefight broke out, a very intense fight that had the dirt dancing all through the compound. The noise
was the worst I had yet experienced...explosions...gunfire...yelling...screaming...it was terrifying. In the midst of it all, the Chaplain>
cracked. He stood up and started running toward the wire screaming scriptures and waving his Bible at the VC. My squad leader
yelled at me to tackle the chaplain before he got hit. Pleasant tasks like that are the lot of the newest FNG. I ran toward him plan-
ning to hit him from behind but at the last minute he turned and saw me coming. I couldn't believe what happened next...he threw
his Bible at me at point blank range. I was shocked. The Bible impacted my chest and I thought for a second that I was a goner.
But believe it or not...the Bible hit me right on my lucky bullet! If it hadn't been for that bullet...that Bible would have gone right
through my heart. I never gave that bullet to anyone when I left. You can't let go of something like that.