storeeze

Tanks for the memory Of crap games on the floor, Nights in Singapore You might have been a headache, But you never were a bore —from Rainger, R. and Robin, L. (1938). Thanks for the Memory [lyrics] You never know what you're gonna run into when you’re breakin' bush in the middle of a war. One fine morning, March second, I recall, the jungle was jungle. Then, Presto Mundo—a three-acre clearing with a road running through it. There was no bush on the sides of the road and no leaves on the trees. Agent Orange had been here—“Only you can prevent a forest.” The area had been bladed and sprayed extensively. Busybody U.S. engineers had created a wasteland, except for a big pile of logs and brush on the far side of the road, next to a termite mound. Lt. Martinez shouted, “We're makin' a combat assault on the road!” Huh? Against a road? The lead elements of Charlie Company stepped into the clearing. We glanced at each other. No traffic lights. We formed a hundred-yard-long line ...

What am I doin' here? Please Mr. Custer, I don't want to go —from De Lory, A., Darian, F. and Van Winkle, J. (1960). Mr. Custer [lyrics] Early February, 1970, Charlie company was hacking through thick bamboo over our heads in the stomping grounds of the 9th Division NVA (North Vietnamese Army), investigating some funny business the Duck had spotted in a locality we were unfamiliar with. Back in the world, Jean Dixon, the gossip prophet, had designated our regiment (Custer’s 7th Cavalry) for destruction. If that wasn’t enough, the anniversary of the Tet Offensive was also hanging over our heads. Late that afternoon, I almost crashed into Bob. The point had stopped chopping when he came upon a fresh path. Mmm-hmm. We didn't follow paths or cross them. Better to break bush than mix with heavy traffic and ignorant crowds.  Patient, soft-spoken Capt. Jackson, our CO, had made us feel at home in the jungle. He didn’t waste lives to make a name or a point. He felt the weight of ...