On the wings of a stoned white dove:

We boarded the plane to Vietnam, nothing but a first class flight for America's boys who were on their way to war. It was some sorry assed looking four-engine prop job and we were jammed into that tin aircraft asshole to belly button. My knees were high in the air and wedged between the seats, my feet never touched ground till we landed in Guam. The food on this flight was served in a brown paper bag dripping like an old cheese steak hoagie. What the hell right? We were Marines on our way to fight for freedom, it was only fitting that some nasty old meatloaf sandwich was the evening fare. The droning of the engines put us to sleep, but in reality I think it was the fumes from this antique bird they were flying us in. Most of us closed our eyes for self-preservation; I swear the wings were flapping. Once in a while we'd hit an air pocket and the plane would drop like a rock. When the plane hit good air again the wings shot straight up and gave each other a high five before leveling off. It was truly a Miracle of modern science that we survived. Despite the odds, which were none to one at this point. We landed in Guam for refueling and they let us out to stretch our legs. When I finally got to where I could take two steps in a row I hobbled down and out and stood on the tarmac. It was early morning in Guam. The temperature was humid and about 110 degrees. Little people about four feet tall were running all over the place trying to get us refueled and back in the air. I looked around for the yellow brick road, Todo and the Tin man but they were nowhere to be found. This wasn't the Land of Oz, and clicking my heels wouldn't get me back to Kansas. I thought to myself, if Vietnam is like this the heat might kill us before Charley does.  A fleeting thought ripped through my mind, Man the heat here stunted the hell out of these people. No fear of smoking for them. I then lit up a smoke, and boarded the plane. Next stop Danang. In a matter of hours we would be in the shit. No one slept. O waaay yoh-wah, O waaay yo-wah!

The skitzo-plane flop-landed at Danang and creaked to a stop. The plane groaned, then puked on the tarmac and just before the wings fell off smoke billowed out from its one good engine. I figured if I survived the Sardine red eye flight outta Guam I would be all right in the Nam. Shit yeah a piece of cake! Just when I thought I was safe the greeting party showed up. There to meet us were those who had been in the boonies for a while and they herded us into A Quonset hut where we would be dealt out like a deck of dog-eared cards. After finding out what unit we were going to be with, some of us were loaded into trucks and sent north. My draw was Phubai. When we finally got there we were once again told to gather round and listen up for our name and company so that we could get on with the war. Then the Gunny shouted out" do we have any Marine Corps 0311 Licensed drivers here, and I raised my hand. He said, " report to motor "T". They need drivers for the radio jeeps". I thought Hell this isn’t so bad and followed the gunny down to the tent. He said, "are you prepared to drive" and I said hell yeah Gun's, and he said there's your jeep get in it and follow Sgt MacDugal". I did and we hauled ass heading south on route one. We drove like a bat out of hell to a small outpost about twenty miles south of Phubai. Man it was isolated; wire was strung out all over the place. Fox holes were whispering to me," Come on cherry boy it's your turn to squirm". After I stowed my gear I was directed to a foxhole. Shit, Here we go my first day here and I'm gonna be stuck in a hole overlooking barbed wire and claymore mines. Then I met some 100 pound redneck, he looked at me and said "Welcome to Nam Pencil neck" And I knew it was gonna be an interesting tour.