SHITBIRDS:
Paradise
was anywhere that we were not in harms way. A place of refuge, where hot
chow and a
Lukewarm can of beer could be had. Paradise could be a place called
Phubai for instance as strange as that may seem. A shitbird was anyone
below the rank of PFC, or a newbie to Vietnam. often hand picked by the
Gunny for top priority missions of a tedious nature. Sorta to test our
metal if ya know what I mean.
The
Mission;
There
it was, looming in the darkness; a boxlike silhouette against the sky. A
stronghold
completely necessary to the well being of the troops. It was usually
occupied by at least one,
but it would not be unusual to be inhabited by three or more at any
given time. This structure
was set apart from the encampment as a safety factor. Its reputation was
known only by those in
the direct vicinity of this ominous building of wood. Earth shattering
thundering and strong
currents made it unapproachable at times, but being Marines we would
overcome, improvise and
adapt
to this potentially volatile situation. In this strategic location we
could gather all
kinds of vital information, while we laid to waste the vile renderings
of sustenance from the
grueling day that was behind us.
The
time was soon approaching when we would have to take the stronghold back
from the odious
beast
that inhabited it. We had to prepare and strengthen our character. Our
moral beings were
at stake; we had to diligently yet cautiously regain control. Hundreds
have been here before us,
and left with an uneasiness in their guts.
We dressed appropriately for the mission that would begin at first
light, Olive drab...
We placed handkerchiefs over our faces (we wished to remain anonymous).
We had flames and
plenty of fuel to ignite our objective. This was a highly flammable
situation we were about
to encounter and we had to proceed with speed and caution. If carried
out in haste,
the remnants of the spoils could cover us and we would become outcasts
to our peers!
First light. Our objective was empty, (so was everyone else I guess). We
were ready.
Together we slinked up to the fortress and dropped to our knees with
precision. While looking at
each
other I nodded; he in turn gave the thumbs up. The hatch was opened and
deftly propped up
with the speed and precision of Marines. This was it; this was the
moment of truth, another nod,
another thumbs up. We moved as one in unison and with unmatched
professionalism, together we grabbed onto our objective and slid it out
onto the slick Vietnamese soil. We read each others thoughts and
repeated the same drill a total of three gut wrenching times...
D-DAY!
Zero hour! Geronimo! Whatever... It was now or never.
The flames were made ready as I doused the sinister objectives with
fuel. My cohort hit them
with
fire. Whoom! Whoom! Whoom! Black smoke spiralled towards the heavens. We
ran for our lives gasping for air. When we reached a safe distance, we
stopped and turned and together stared at the devastation of the
conflagration.
A
weird satisfaction overwhelmed us.
MISSION
ACCOMPLISHED!
The
shitters were burning...
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