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Short Stories

The two American advisors and their Vietnamese and Montagnard paratroopers marched up the metal ramp into the back of a C-130. As Spec.-4 O’Keefe took a sling seat against the fuselage, he wished the plane had windows. From deep under ginger brows his blue eyes probed the aluminum interior. The door closed, muting the howl of engines. Sealed in with the smell of nervous sweat, O’Keefe wanted to flee.
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