The Memoirs of Sam Renier

Chapter 28: Demise of a VC 'Tute

October 4, 1968. Nam only seems ta have two seasons: hot and wet, followed by hot and dry.
Ever since CenComm ordered a drop of Orange Crush
(that's Agent Orange - for you pot-smoking, draft-dodging, flag-burning
hippies) for Jungle Sector 102, it's been dry as a freakin'
James Bond martini. Yeah, some hippie stuffed shirt's been whining to the
Washington Post about "ecological devastation". Screw the
environment! We've got a goddamned war to win. Hell, we shoulda
just carpet bombed the whole damned country!

Jose McDougal bit the dust last night - damned good Private. CenCommDoc says Orange Crush had nothin'
ta do with it. Roger that. Even the dead can be
useful. Some VC whore tossed a frag (that's
"grenade" for you commie peaceniks) into camp, so we rolled
McDougal's corpse on top of the explosive and let him die twice for BravoDelta. I chalked it up to "Death in the line of
duty".

We rounded up that
commie 'tute and took turns executing her. There
wasn't a hell of a lot left of her by the time my turn came up. We buried her
in a shoe box. Jesús O'Malley pissed on her
grave. Huzzah!

The U.N. Observer, a frenchie commie-lovin' spy, wrote
up some cable to send ta the brass as evidence of our
"war crimes". Hah! I took his letter, set it ablaze, and used it to
light my cigar. A real 'Merican
cigar.

The next day, CennComm sent us ta kill a Soviet
sonuvabich named "Crazy Ivan". Killin' commies is both a duty and a pleasure for BravoDelta Group!

Semper Fi,
baby!