The Path
When it finally happens and it's over, As you stand there and think— Something so mutilated can't be human So it was dead enough without this But even here there is beauty A small flowered patch of ground, a bird's call And the grace of a butterfly Frustration and disappointment Become a laughable thing But always the conflicting emotions to smile Or say the hell with it and cry —SP4 Bob Jackson. The Hell with It. (1970) In early December, we had orders for a combat assault. Firebase Jamie's artillery subjected the LZ (landing zone) with high explosives to flatten the jungle. CS (tear gas) was not used. A Huey gets you to ground where there are no roads or rails. The next morning, five Hueys landed thirty feet apart on Jamie's dirt strip and began inserting us into the LZ, not too awfully far away. Landings are high speed—choppers touchdown barely a few seconds before lifting off. We scrambled out and made a bee line for the wood line, forming into platoons