Existing comment:
Home:
Base camp, firebase, LZ, the bush. Wherever you are is home. Farther back is better. A base beats a jungle foxhole -- except for some like "Mary Ann," Russell," or Lang Vei. They were all overrun and not back at all. The rockets are bad everywhere, so dig deep and pile on sandbags. Use whatever ammo crates and scrap metal you can find to build a nice bunker. Hang some posters on the walls and get a radio from the PX. Send off a letter or tape and hopefully get something back. Maybe you will get that package from home with some real food.
In the boonies, it is different. Red dirt turns to red mud; everything turns red. You can take the heat, but the cold is tough. The bugs are unbearable. Razor grass cuts through clothing and skin.
You unass from the slicks, secure the LZ, then start humping down the trails, knee deep in the paddles, under triple canopy jungle, over the ride, through the ville, looking for Charlie, all the while drinking bad water and eating canned rations from your dad's war. At least the fruit and pound cake are good. It would be nice to get out of these stinking clothes; get back to the bunker and rest. |