Depth of Field

Lt. Moe says as we near the curve, "Be alert guys; this is known VC territory." "Known VC territory!" I think to myself. Then what the hell are we doing out here alone.
Silence is broken by a sudden and loud crack as if a firecracker had gone off next to my head. Everything immediately goes into slow motion simultaneously the front of the Jeep leaps with flames. Tim%u2019s head jerks back and with his hands covering his face yells, "Oh God!" Lt. Moe at that same moment leans to his right and just falls out of the Jeep, almost gracefully. I find myself lying next to the Jeep struggling to gather my thoughts; my first instinct is that we had gone over a landmine. Just then I hear the staccato of automatic weapons fire and loud Vietnamese chatter. I'm gripped with fear as I evaluate the situation now. This is not just a land mine, but an ambush, "Gotta move Carlisle," I think to myself. I try and reach up into jeep for my weapon, but the fire forces my hand away. "I know Tim's dead and they have shot and killed Lt. Moe, and now they are coming for me,"
This single incident was the defining moment not only in my military career, but also in how I managed future life choices and challenges. All veterans, especially those who experience "fight or flight" situations have similar defining moments and are unique to the individual.
I entered military service in August 1964, a seventeen year old High School dropout anxious to be on his own and see the world; the Army was the perfect environment to achieve that. I loved the Army, the structure, the discipline; the potential for advancement was only limited by one's own initiative. I completed my High School GED while stationed in Germany. My military career was evolving far beyond what I had envisioned; at nineteen I was an NCO, which was rare in 1966. I was on my second enlistment and looking forward to a long and rewarding military career. Then Vietnam, and all that changed.