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. One fine morning, March the 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 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 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 along the road and began crossing. ...

On the sunny afternoon of 8 August 1970, a courier dropped the daily casualty report on my desk. The day prior, Charlie Company had been investigating a suspicious area in the bush. Capt. Martinez, who inclined toward the unusual, had set up an LP (listening post) beyond the wire to detect anyone sneaking around. An LP was the least popular assignment and most unsettling, because the enemy owned the night. Two of the newest men in the unit, an FNG (fucking new guy) and SP4 Pondextuer Eugene Williams, a vet from The Big Red One, were put out there in no man’s land. They were huddled around their radio  like tethered goats,  listening to night noises  for tell-tale signs,  when a Viet Cong snuck up and planted a mine. The blast took Williams' head and critically wounded his companion.  Doc Gerrits went out to check. Williams was done for, so he treated the wounded man. Taking care of your buddies is utmost. Williams’ friends were shaky because of recent enemy ...

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 investigating some funny business the Duck had spotted in the stomping grounds of the 9th Division NVA (North Vietnamese Army).  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 hanging over our heads. Late that afternoon, the point man was hacking through thick bamboo over his head and stopped. I almost crashed into Bob. Mmm-hmm. A fresh path. 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, 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 each man on his shoulders. He took no unnecessary chances and pr...