was that had them pinned. They figured you controlled the high ground on the south side, and they didn't want to screw around with you guys. That NVA prisoner said that they had no idea what in hell they faced up on that hillside, but whatever it was, it was deadly."
Hathcock took a final draw off the cigarette and crushed it into the brass ash tray that sat on the corner of the gunny's desk. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he smiled and then tucked his bush hat back on his head, stroking the white feather in its band.
The two Marines walked away from the buzzing command tent toward their hooches, where they would clean their gear, then themselves, and get some rest. Hathcock looked at Burke and rubbed his finger down the Marine's cheek where sweat had washed white streaks through the light and dark green camouflage greasepaint that both snipers had caked on their skin. Hathcock shook his head and then lazily drawled, "Come on, Burke, let's get cleaned up, your mascara has done run all over your face."
In the Beginning.
A STACK OP mail lay on Carlos Hathcock's field desk when he walked inside the 1st Marine Division Scout/Sniper School's hand-backed tent. Two letters were from Jo-one thick and one thin.
Hathcock looked at the postmarks and opened the letter that bore the oldest date first-the thick letter. As he unfolded the letter, a small clipping from the Raleigh News and Observer fell onto a copy of Leatherneck Magazine that lay on his desk.
Hathcock grunted as he read the bold print that led the story. A sharp knot tightened in his stomach as he laid the clipping aside and began to read the letter.
"Dear Carlos," the letter began, "they wrote about you in the newspaper. I don't quite understand, but I hope you can explain...
"Now every day I wonder what you are doing. I keep waiting for them to come up the sidewalk and tell me you're dead...
"I thought you were safe at the headquarters, teaching. Now I read that you go out alone, or with one other Marine, sniping in enemy territory. I want to know how you are. I want to know the truth."
Hathcock folded the fat letter and looked at the thin one that was postmarked the following day. It was two pages long and began, "I'm sorry that I was angry with you. I know that you don't need to be getting negative letters. I understand that you just didn't want me to worry..."
The letter also told about their son and what Jo hoped to do once her husband was home. It asked, "Have you decided about staying in the Marines?
Hathcock took a tablet of paper from the field desk's right-hand drawer and scrawled, "Dear Jo, I'm sorry. I didn't think telling you would make the waiting better for you. I didn't want you to worry.
"I know that I'm not invincible, but none of these hamburgers are smart enough to get me. I promise you that. Don't you worry about me...
"I have decided to quit the Marine Corps and settle down there in New Bern.
"I'll see you in a couple of weeks... Love, Carlos."
Gunnery Sgt. James D. Wilson, the noncommissioned officer in charge of the 1st Marine Division sniper school, walked in the hooch just as Hathcock licked the envelope's flap and pressed it closed.
"Letter home?"
"Yeah. I gotta bone to pick with that reporter who was up here a couple of months ago. You know, the one who interviewed me and Captain Land after Charlie put out the bounty on us?"
"Sure. What happened?" the gunny asked.
"You remember Captain Land tellin' that guy that the story he wrote was just for the Sea Tiger? That it was for in-country, only?"
"Yeah?"
"His story-almost word for word-appeared in the Raleigh newspaper. My wife just mailed me the clipping."
"No shit. That's a hell of a way for a woman to find out about her husband, by reading it in the newspaper."
"That's what she thought, too."
"You know, you lead the list of confirmed kills, and that makes you the Marine Corps'
Hathcock took a final draw off the cigarette and crushed it into the brass ash tray that sat on the corner of the gunny's desk. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he smiled and then tucked his bush hat back on his head, stroking the white feather in its band.
The two Marines walked away from the buzzing command tent toward their hooches, where they would clean their gear, then themselves, and get some rest. Hathcock looked at Burke and rubbed his finger down the Marine's cheek where sweat had washed white streaks through the light and dark green camouflage greasepaint that both snipers had caked on their skin. Hathcock shook his head and then lazily drawled, "Come on, Burke, let's get cleaned up, your mascara has done run all over your face."
In the Beginning.
A STACK OP mail lay on Carlos Hathcock's field desk when he walked inside the 1st Marine Division Scout/Sniper School's hand-backed tent. Two letters were from Jo-one thick and one thin.
Hathcock looked at the postmarks and opened the letter that bore the oldest date first-the thick letter. As he unfolded the letter, a small clipping from the Raleigh News and Observer fell onto a copy of Leatherneck Magazine that lay on his desk.
Hathcock grunted as he read the bold print that led the story. A sharp knot tightened in his stomach as he laid the clipping aside and began to read the letter.
"Dear Carlos," the letter began, "they wrote about you in the newspaper. I don't quite understand, but I hope you can explain...
"Now every day I wonder what you are doing. I keep waiting for them to come up the sidewalk and tell me you're dead...
"I thought you were safe at the headquarters, teaching. Now I read that you go out alone, or with one other Marine, sniping in enemy territory. I want to know how you are. I want to know the truth."
Hathcock folded the fat letter and looked at the thin one that was postmarked the following day. It was two pages long and began, "I'm sorry that I was angry with you. I know that you don't need to be getting negative letters. I understand that you just didn't want me to worry..."
The letter also told about their son and what Jo hoped to do once her husband was home. It asked, "Have you decided about staying in the Marines?
Hathcock took a tablet of paper from the field desk's right-hand drawer and scrawled, "Dear Jo, I'm sorry. I didn't think telling you would make the waiting better for you. I didn't want you to worry.
"I know that I'm not invincible, but none of these hamburgers are smart enough to get me. I promise you that. Don't you worry about me...
"I have decided to quit the Marine Corps and settle down there in New Bern.
"I'll see you in a couple of weeks... Love, Carlos."
Gunnery Sgt. James D. Wilson, the noncommissioned officer in charge of the 1st Marine Division sniper school, walked in the hooch just as Hathcock licked the envelope's flap and pressed it closed.
"Letter home?"
"Yeah. I gotta bone to pick with that reporter who was up here a couple of months ago. You know, the one who interviewed me and Captain Land after Charlie put out the bounty on us?"
"Sure. What happened?" the gunny asked.
"You remember Captain Land tellin' that guy that the story he wrote was just for the Sea Tiger? That it was for in-country, only?"
"Yeah?"
"His story-almost word for word-appeared in the Raleigh newspaper. My wife just mailed me the clipping."
"No shit. That's a hell of a way for a woman to find out about her husband, by reading it in the newspaper."
"That's what she thought, too."
"You know, you lead the list of confirmed kills, and that makes you the Marine Corps'
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