It was near dusk and we were sitting at O’Brien’s foxhole along a wide muddy river north of Quang Nai. The peacieful pinkish twilight set the mood for a story, which I remember being told by some guy in another platoon. “God’s truth” I started and began telling the story. It comprised of these six guys going up to the mountains and Going a bit crazy because, well they were alone on patrol and in those spooky mountains it was easy to get lost in thought, and lose yourself. Well, Tim was a good listener so i took it as a chance to tell a little bit of a stretched story. i found myself telling nearly all I had heard except some stretchers which were added in about the noises, making an elaborate path in my mind.
O’brien, I found, was losing interest in the story, maybe thinking it was fake, so I added in the mountains were having a cocktail party, and a famous person was singing to them. it didn’t look like he bought it.  I wanted so badly for him to realize it was all true. I wanted him to think it was the forest talking, and alive. Finally I mentioned the guys blew the side of the mountain to hell and realized some of the story might have been a little too far fetched, but it was alright, I just wanted him to believe in this crap as much as I did. 
The next day the troops were moving out and I felt a little bad about stretching the story so much like that. I ran up next to O’Brien. “ I got a confession to make,” I started. “Last night, man, I had to make up a few things.”
“ I know that.” he replied I then proceeded to tell him that all the fancy parts I made up like the cocktail party. But explained the rest was true. I hoped I made that clear.

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