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tv   BTV January Watch Onlines Arnold Punaro  CSPAN  January 29, 2017 10:05am-10:16am EST

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interaction with the legal system in resting power. hogan strategist and author roger stone abides insight into president's campaign in the making of the president 2016. >> look for these titles in bookstores this coming week and watch for many of the authors in the near future on booktv on
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c-span2. >> the primary reason i wrote the book was to honor the marines i served with in vietnam. more people should know their stories. they're incredible dedication, courage and the sacrifices they made in a war that you supported and even fewer thanked. in vietnam as draftees that they served with honor and did everything they can't ask of them, and more. and also wanted to subscribe a realistic picture of life as a winter rifleman in combat. slogging through fire zones for weeks and months at a time, you're seeking an elusive and lethal enemy, never knowing if someone is an enemy or friendly. they didn't wear uniforms. it's a war without a front line. we were constantly cold, wet, hungry and tired. our resupply would never arrive on time and we had to ration our food, ammo and even our water. we never had any heat to heat up
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the awful c rations that were our meals and we never had any dry socks. and i hate to say but every day was pretty much the same. up at the crack of dawn, trudge from miles to our nighttime positions with about 85 pounds of gear on our backs. you clear areas in route, set up ambushes, stay up half the night on watch, and there were many a firefight in between. that is in the life of a rifleman in combat. one of those rifleman was corporal roy hammonds, third platoon, and i'd like to read a passage from my book about him. a shot rang out. the men crouched seeking cover as if at a single fiber six enemy a case opened up on the far side of the draw. the rapid building to a metallic roar and hail of bullets came in from the right flank and i had. our m-16s opened up in reply.
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a thin screen, the relentless pattern of rain, i'm hit, i'm hit. corpsman up, the familiar cry of stuff hitting the fan. take cover, take cover i yelled. this was the ambush i dreaded. i rolled and embrace my rifle butt against the rich on my vest and triggered off about half the magazine towards the incoming fire. i looked at downhill and i saw a body between two bushes, legs sprawled in a stream. fire team to left up and rushed in short -- then drop to set up a defensive position on the flight. bullets went into the brush and cracked into trees showering bart and white pulpy wood. the fire team leader collapsed next to me. they got the stock. i measured the distance to the motionless medic around who impacts were hitting up mud and water. i had our mortars get fire on
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top of that ridgeline. lieutenant, my radioman handed me the handset. put artillery on top of the hill and cover me, i yelled, and burst from behind the tree. projectiles while fast as i dodged down the bakes. devoted man lay prone in the middle of the street. our mission can't begin hammering away at the ridgeline on the flank. bullets were dicing around daca mimicking the small impact of the raindrops. when i reached him, the korman was hacking and coughing. face smeared with mud. i turned it over. his chest was torn open. air bubble deep, blood ran from his mouth. he tried to say something but ii couldn't make it out. he needed that chest wall seal click. a bullet smashed into the creek spring as with cold water. that was a sniper. hunching my shoulders, i pressed the rubber pad over the wick gaping wound to heal that with
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my left and round the bandage around his torso, half lifting into passable between his shoulders. as soon as the bandage was tied off i started pulling him out of the line of fire. at that moment it felt like a bulldozer hit my back knocking me down in the stream, carry my helmet off. my in 16 rifle cart away through the rain. i lay stunned gazing after it thinking, i'll be doing a lot of paperwork for losing that rifle. when i realize i could still move, my days sharpened into an urgent need to scramble for cover. bullets were lacking all around. my back felt as though someone had wailed at it with a sledgehammer. blood was dripping from my utilities, yet my brain seem to be functioning with perfect clarity. we had been returning fire to the east but i'd been hit in the back. it was an v-shaped ambush. lieutenant, my radioman called up, i yelled back, tell the company commander the inning is to the north on the other ridgeline. i shouted out new coordinates
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from the laminated map now smeared with my blood. fire everything we've got and get the gunships. doc was still upstream not having moved in the bullets impact at separate as there and grab doc, too. i took a deep breath and let it out. listening for the sock and ways that might long was pierced but it never. blood was pouring out, dying of the clearwater scholar. it was cold. i had to find cover. but i didn't feel like moving. why not just close my eyes and rest? then boots touted coming my way. through the rattle and crack of incoming fire, someone was thundering down the slopes. the pounding grew louder. he can it into me like a runner sliding for home. tumbling over me in the streambed. someone had come after me, incredibly brave, incredibly risky. i grabbed his flak jacket and yelled lets go, let's go no answer. my hand came back covered with blood.
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an unfamiliar tail long face fell back. i didn't know him. i can't move, i yelled. but he didn't respond. just lay there on top of me jerking as the bullets hammered his flak jacket. we've got to get out of here, i said. i grabbed his harness and pulled them off, and dragged him into the mud towards a streambank as the bullets peppered around us. doc i was what might be dying. i realize this now but maybe i could say this marine. it seemed to take hours to crawl, dragging the lip heavy body by the arms and up a slight price into the dense foliage. once it to cover i checked them out. he had been hit. wasn't breathing. i pressed my mouth to his and begin cpr. his lips were slight and cold and tasted of blood. finally i sat back on my heels. this marine was gone. why come after me? core discipline didn't abandon. he wasn't even in my platoon.
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lieutenant, are you okay? he crouched right next to me, reloading with shaking hands. his barrel steam. raindrops bubbling as they ran down to we have a bunch of wounded and the company commander wants -- the steady rattle of small arms, the shouted more of artillery working the top of the ridge louder than i've ever heard. we stumbled on a least a regimen. i'd call in more firepower and medevac. you are hit, bleeding bad. i fumbled at the first aid kit and stuffed the gauze in the hole in my back. when i looked down at the marines body again, his gray blue eyes were open and seem to be following me. do you know this marine, i asked my radioman? that's hammonds, third platoon. tough break. he only had a couple of weeks to go. but you better call in a chopper and get yourself taken care of. i looked around at the dead and
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wounded sprawled beside the stream. why had the kid done it? sacrificed himself for a stranger cracks when his own return home had been so near. by then it will demand began streaming. smoke drifted like better incense. but there was something else, something important. then i remembered an arise microwave caring in and breaking over me. who to contact. i force myself to my knees, then feet, dizzy, but my legs held up and after moment i could lift i can. the deadline was still looking up at me wide-eyed. my radioman slapped a handset n my palm lichen nurse present a scalpel. are we following back, lieutenant? i took a deep breath, tore my
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gaze on the unblinking one, couldn't puzzle things, think about later, no, i said. help me get this tourniquet on. have a third platoon consulted the dead and wounded and follow entries that were going to take this field so we can get everyone out. no, marine gets left behind. >> you can watch this and other programs online at >> the national book critics circle awards are given annually to honor the best books published in the united states according to the organization which is composed of close the 600 critics. awards are presented in the categories of general nonfiction, autobiography, biography, criticism, fiction and poetry. here's a look at at this years recently announced general nonfiction finalists.


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