Bunkers
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 ...