He was 300 yards away, and while he wasn’t walking fast, his every step was bringing him right to me. It was getting late, and the light was failing. Even though I was well-armed with both my .30/06 and a .44 on my hip, I wanted to give the bear his space. So in the spirit of General O.P. Smith, commander of the 1st Marine Division at the Chosin Reservoir, who said, “Retreat, hell! We’re not retreating, we’re just advancing in another direction,” I packed my gear and headed back toward the tent, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure the griz wasn’t closing the gap.