0630 formation: this is the one we all have been waiting for. Rumor has it that the commander is going to send a squad into action. We were all hungry for battle and are prepared for anything. The entire platoon stayed up all night talking about getting a taste of combat and putting wagers on what squad would be the lucky 12. Well, in about 30 minutes we would find out who the so called "lucky 12" will be.
             The platoon gathers in formation and roll call is announced. All are present. The first sergeant announces that the Commander, John P. Wilson, would like to see Bravo squad. Bravo squad, that's my guys, and we know what it is that he wants to see us about, at least we hope.
             After formation we marched over to see the commander. The laughing and joking had all come to a stop as we approached his tent. Commander John P. Wilson was a well-decorated war hero, and his appearance was that of the war heroes we read about or watch on TV. He was about 6 foot 3 inches tall and his stature appeared to be chiseled from granite. We knew little about him other than he was a hard ass and loved to command in battle. "Bravo squad reporting as requested sir," I shouted out. "At ease soldier," he replied, as he shot his eyes at me like a hawk swooping down on its prey. He goes on to explain that there had been enemy troops spotted about 7 miles east of our base camp, and that he needed a strong, well trained squad to go in and infiltrate. He advised me to release my squad. He wanted to speak to me alone for about an hour or so. I stepped out of the tent and observed the most uncertain and anxious group of guys I have ever seen. "Well, what did he say", they asked with urgency. "It's going to be us. Get your game face on and ready your best game." I went on to explain that they should not let the word out yet.
             I return to the commander's tent to go over the logistics of the operat...