Chapter TwelveTHE MORNING AIR WAS HEAVY and a steady rumble of thunder broke against Grimm’s temples. He sat up and a surge of prickly heat bristled through him. Damned malaria, he thought.
He stepped over several sleeping bodies, opened the poncho covering the hole in the living room wall, poked his head out and listened to the drum roll. It was drizzling outside and the roar he heard wasn’t thunder, but the merciful rumble of explosions. The fire was coming from the U.S. Navy ships off the coast. Grimm knew the South Vietnamese government had finally got off the pot and gave the f*****g thumbs up to shell the Citadel.
The explosions boomed louder. Grimm cleared his head and went back to his gear. He took his canteen and splashed water on his face. He thought about the souvenirs he woul
