"I saw her ... she seemed to travel on one tread ... drop to the shoulder ... maybe a broken tread," Dennison said.
Landel grasped the Colonel's shoulder:
"Here, here ... look..."
He pressed his binocular into Fraser's hand.
"See ... see that M129, dangling in those trees ... they're readying a mortar there ... we've got to clear out!"
He began gesturing, calling to the crewmen:
"Out of here ... everybody ... into the tanks ... mortar fire!"
He hustled from man to man. By the time Fraser had spotted the mortar, Landel had men bee-lining.
Fraser ordered the tanks to roll. He and his staff piled into their jeep.
Dennison tossed the crowbar onto the floor of their machine, swung into the bus, dropped wearily onto the driving seat. He permitted himself time for a long, long swig: water was incredible. When you're dead you don't drink much, he told himself. He passed the canteen to Zinc who passed it to Landel.