Bloodbath At Que Son

The battle was still raging at daybreak, and in the new light they looked out upon hulks of destroyed choppers, burned-out tanks, overturned jeeps, pockets of intense firefights.

Jack cried out. “This goddamn place is ripped apart!”

It was then they caught sight of it…
“Damn, Rye, the river’s red!” Bill was looking though binoculars and pointing to a red slick meandering along the river’s surface.

Even without the aid of the binoculars, Rye could see it now and was sickened by the sight. “The river is sucking up the blood from the land, carrying it out to sea.”

For the rest of the day the outcome was unpredictable as each side made gains and suffered losses. 
Their battalion guns had exceeded their limit, thousands of rounds in less than thirty hours. The men and the guns needed downtime.

Suddenly, it all fell silent. There in the gunpowder-infused and rancid air, men deafened by the noise of battle, the two North Vietnamese regiments were in retreat... pulling back toward the A Shau and Laos.

The landscape was gruesome in death, littered with graying bodies lying about, and Jack wondered, “Theirs or ours—can’t rightly tell?”

Rye was waisted and could barely answer. “Both, from the looks of it.”