K9LTW-Ch30

Recovery

The jungle was quiet, but nothing felt resolved. The Reaction team moved out at first light, retracing the path that had taken Reyes and Rook. The morning air was cool, but the humidity was already rising. Mist clung to the low ground, drifting between the trees in thin sheets. Donnie led the column, Bodie close beside him, both moving with the kind of focus that came after loss. The terrain was familiar, but the silence carried weight. Every branch, every shadow, every shift in the wind felt like a memory.

Behind them, Bearcat still smoldered. The south wall breach had been sealed with sandbags and timber, but the damage was visible from the moment they stepped off. The TOC crater remained untouched, cordoned off with tape and guarded by MPs. The medics were still working through the wounded. The Cav had pulled out at dawn, leaving behind a base that had held, but barely. The smell of smoke and burned canvas lingered in the air, carried by the faint morning breeze.

Donnie carried the weight of the day before, but he carried something else too. A promise. He had asked McCready for permission to return to the draw. To bring Reyes and Rook home. McCready had given him the green light, but only with a full team. No solo recovery. No hero runs. Donnie had accepted the terms without argument. He knew the rules. He also knew the cost of breaking them.

The team moved in staggered formation, rifles up, eyes scanning. Merloni walked second, Doc behind him. The rest of the squad followed in pairs, each man alert but quiet. No one spoke. The jungle absorbed sound. The only noise was the steady rhythm of boots on dirt and the occasional rustle of gear. Even the birds stayed silent, as if the canopy itself understood what the team had come to do.

They reached the first rise by midmorning. Donnie raised his fist and the column halted. Bodie froze, ears forward, nose twitching. Donnie moved ahead slowly, scanning the terrain. The draw was unchanged. The fallen logs. The brush. The shallow rise where Reyes had signaled the halt. The crater from the first rocket strike. The ground still held the scars of the fight. Burned leaves. Splintered branches. A dark stain in the dirt where the blast had thrown soil and debris into the air.

He saw the markers they had left. A strip of orange tape tied to a branch. A broken branch angled toward the blast zone. A small pile of stones marking the edge of the recovery site. He moved forward and knelt beside the spot where Reyes had fallen. Rook’s harness lay half-buried in the dirt. Donnie brushed it clean and held it for a moment before passing it to Doc. The leather was stiff with dried mud. The metal rings were scratched and bent.

Recovered

Doc opened his aid bag and removed the recovery sheets. Merloni helped him unfold them. The team formed a perimeter while the recovery was underway. Bodie stayed close, watching Donnie’s every move. The dog’s posture was steady, but his eyes tracked every sound. Donnie placed a hand on Bodie’s shoulder and felt the tension beneath the fur.

The jungle remained quiet.

Doc worked with practiced care. He checked the markers, confirmed identities, and recorded the location. Merloni assisted with the lift, his movements deliberate and respectful. The other men watched the tree line, rifles steady, eyes scanning for movement. The air was still. The only sound was the soft rustle of fabric and the muted clink of metal buckles.

When the bodies were secured, Donnie stood and looked at the rise one last time. He remembered the moment the rockets hit. The flash. The sound. The sudden silence that followed. He remembered Reyes turning to signal the halt. He remembered Rook’s ears lifting, the dog sensing something before any of them did. He remembered Hale’s shout, cut short by the blast.

He took a slow breath and signaled the team to move.

They moved out in reverse order, carrying the fallen with care. Donnie walked point again, Bodie beside him. The weight was physical now. Tangible. But it was not just the bodies. It was the promise. The cost. The knowledge that this was not the last time. The jungle closed behind them, the draw fading into the distance as they made their way back toward Bearcat.

The return was slower. The terrain felt heavier. The men moved with purpose, but the silence was different now. It was not the silence of anticipation. It was the silence of completion. The mission was not over, but the hardest part was behind them.

RTB

They reached Bearcat by early afternoon. The MPs met them at the gate and took over the recovery. The handoff was quiet. No ceremony. No speeches. Just a nod from the sergeant in charge and a steady grip on the stretcher handles. Donnie handed off Rook’s harness and said nothing. He watched the MPs carry the bodies toward the processing tent, then turned away.

He walked back to the barracks, Bodie at his side, and sat on his bunk. The room was dim, lit only by the thin light coming through the canvas flap. The letter from Peggy was still unopened. It sat on his foot locker, the envelope creased and worn from being handled. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. The paper felt heavier than it should have.

He opened it slowly and read the words she had written. She was in Da Nang. She was assigned to the 95th Evac. She was already in-country. She wrote about her training. She wrote about the men she had treated. She wrote about the noise of the helicopters and the smell of antiseptic and the long nights in the ward. She wrote about him. She wrote that she hoped they would be close enough to see each other. She wrote that she understood if he could not write back right away.

Donnie folded the letter and placed it in his breast pocket. He looked at Bodie, who sat quietly beside him. The dog’s eyes were steady. Donnie nodded once.

The war was not over. He was still standing, and he had something to return to.

---

Volunteer

That night, the base was quiet. The artillery crews had stood down. The perimeter was manned but calm. The wounded were stable. The dead had been processed. The Reaction team sat together in the mess tent, eating in silence. No one spoke about the draw. No one spoke about Reyes or Rook. The silence was not avoidance. It was respect.

Donnie ate slowly, his movements deliberate. Bodie lay under the table, head resting on his paws. Merloni sat across from him, eyes tired but clear. Doc had gone to check on the wounded. The others ate in pairs, scattered across the tent. The air smelled of rice and coffee and the faint metallic scent of disinfectant drifting in from the aid station.

McCready entered and walked to their table. He did not sit. He placed a folded paper on the table in front of Donnie. It was a new assignment. A short-range recon patrol. Two days out. No known enemy presence. Donnie looked at the paper, then looked at McCready.

“I’ll take it,” he said.

McCready nodded and walked away.

The next morning, Donnie packed his gear. Bodie’s harness was clean and ready. The team assembled at the motor pool. The trucks were loaded. The route was mapped. The terrain was familiar. The mission was routine.

But nothing felt routine.

Donnie checked Bodie’s paws, adjusted the dog’s collar, and secured the leash. Bodie stood still, patient and alert. The men checked their rifles, tightened straps, and loaded magazines. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a pale light across the motor pool. The air was cool, but the heat would come soon.

Donnie climbed into the lead vehicle and sat beside Bodie. The engine started. The convoy rolled out. The base faded behind them. The jungle opened ahead.

He did not know what they would find. But he knew what they had left behind. And he knew what waited at the end of the road.

---

From Popi’s Tales & The Book of Wonders

More from Popi’s Collection of Facts & Fiction

• Burtt the Blade – fiction
• Doh-Rey-Me Book 1 – fiction – book – written here
• Doh-Rey-Me Book 2 – fiction – book – written here
• K9LTW Book 1 – fiction – book – written here
• K9LTW Book 2 – fiction – book – written here – in progress
• Mystery of Willow Woods – fiction – short Story – written here
• The Last Signal – part one – fiction – book – written here
• Rift Guardians – chapter#1 – fiction – book – written here
• Shorty’s Path – non-fiction auto biography book

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