“Most days he flew into the field in one of them. He had become used to the gut wrenching speed of their rapid climbs and violent manoeuvres to avoid ground fire. The monsoons would soon be gone and the never-ending red mud would become the never-ending red dust that clogs and covers everything; that gets into the pores of your skin, and makes small red rivers as it mixes with the constant sweat, pouring down your body. What a bastard of a place this is, thought Jack. What are we doing fight...ing for this shithole? The Vietnamese don’t give a damn which particular party of corrupt arseholes is in power—they just want the killing to stop and to be left in peace. Jack had been here almost three months. He had made about thirty insertions, as an observer and as a ground advisor with company and platoon commanders. He felt he had been making good progress, and the men on the ground had been having more success. He concentrated on the squads to begin with.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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