Mornings with Larry: Prologue

       Greetings readers! Most of my blog posts in the foreseeable future will contain excerpts from my just-released book, Mornings with Larry: Life Lessons from a Man in a Wheelchair. The book is a memoir/biography about an amazing man, Larry Browning, who lived an adventurous life during his healthy years.
       Later in life, he contracted multiple sclerosis, which ultimately left him quadriplegic and blind. Larry faced this debilitating illness with incredible courage and strength. I was his caregiver during his final two years, during which he became the greatest hero of my life. Enjoy the excerpt.

       The book is available through Amazon. When on www.amazon.com, type in Mornings with Larry: Life Lessons. That should get you there.

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PROLOGUE

South Vietnam, July 18, 1970

       Four olive-drab body bags marked the heart of the perimeter. The encampment barely stirred but for a few guards searching the moonlit jungle for shifting shadows.
       A boyish private, unable to sleep, crawled from his tent and sat against a tree. He stared, trance-like, at his four fallen comrades. Pfc. James Larry Browning, age twenty, kept this vigil for much of the night.
       The camp broke with the light of dawn. The weary, diminished company of thirty-three soldiers packed their tents and gear. Some paused for a bite of rations. Others smoked or drank coffee.

Larry in Vietnam, 1970

       The distant thump of rotor blades echoed in the damp tropical sky. A medevac helicopter appeared over the jungle canopy and descended toward the troops. It touched down in a small landing zone near the fallen soldiers. Several men loaded the dead into the chopper, which quickly lifted off. Browning lit a cigarette and watched the medevac fly away over the tops of palm trees.
       The company divided into three platoons and entered a jungle trail. They trekked until midmorning and stopped for a break near the edge of a small clearing.
       Browning slipped off his pack and sat next to another private. A sergeant approached the two and gave orders. They nodded and readied their M-16 rifles for guard duty. The pair patrolled along the edge of the jungle and stopped in dense trees and brush, across the clearing from their company.
       Another chopper, a Huey, emerged over the treetops. It descended toward the resting company and landed, blowing a storm of dust.
       The noise stole nap time from a handful of soldiers. Others continued to chat, snack or smoke, while casting steely-eyed glances at the helicopter.
       The rotor blades churned. Two door gunners, one on each side of the craft, aimed mounted M-60 machine guns into the surrounding jungle. A helmeted passenger dressed in clean-and-pressed combat fatigues sat alone in the back. Black eagle insignias decorated his collar, marking him a colonel.
       The company’s captain strode toward the landed Huey and waited. The colonel stepped out of the craft, hustled away from the whipping blades, and greeted the saluting captain. They conversed; the colonel laughed now and then.
       Unseen in the thick undergrowth beyond the far side of the clearing, Browning and the other private stood guard. They peered through leaves and branches at the captain and colonel, about seventy yards away.
       While the officers talked near the helicopter, the two lowly sentries conducted a little conference of their own. They whispered intently for a short time and nodded in agreement.
       Browning turned and focused his attention on the two men near the chopper. He adjusted his footing.
       The Huey’s blades pulsed and sliced. Browning shut out the noise and breathed deeply.
       He raised his M-16.
       His right thumb touched the safety, his forefinger inched toward the trigger. He fine-tuned his aim.
       The sights aligned perfectly on the colonel’s chest.