As the night wore on, however, there was no direct action, and the needs of the body for food and warmth edged their way into my thoughts. The warming tent set up just to the rear of the line became increasingly inviting.

It was close to dawn when I succumbed to desire and entered the tent. A can of drys, one of fruit and a wet now partially frozen would, when thawed, make for breakfast. The rations dug out of deep parka pockets were set to warm. A hole in the wet would serve to let out the steam while advertising its warmth.

As I consumed the fruit, followed by the familiar pork and beans, we speculated about what had happened -- why had S-2 just been wrong, again! "The night is not yet over" someone reminded us, causing a momentary pause in the talk.

Suddenly -- BAM! The lieutenant grabbed the side of his head as a trickle of blood oozed through his fingers. The tent emptied as we scrambled to our positions. S-2 was right, the first of the incoming proved that.

As we huddled waiting for the rest of the registration fire we checked our weapons and those on our left and right. As the quietness returned we were left with only the sound of our individual pounding hearts coupled with the rush of adrenalin, as the quietness returned. We waited as the knot in our stomachs tightened. Why one round and nothing more?