SHIT-BIRDS 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 in fact be a place
called Phubai fas strange as that may seem. A shit-bird 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 moment of
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 lay 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 beasts
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; we donned our olive
drab apparel then 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 this
mission were carried out in haste, the remnants of the spoils would undoubtedly
cover us and we would become outcasts to our peers! First light and much to
our surprise our objective was empty, (so was everyone else I guess).
Nonetheless 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 objectives and slid them 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 diesel fuel. My cohort
hit them with fire. Whoom! Whoom! Whoom! Black smoke spiraled towards
the heavens. We ran for our lives gasping for air. When we reached a safe distance, we
stopped and turned and together and with pride we stared at the
devastation of the conflagration. A weird satisfaction overwhelmed us. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! The shitters were
burning... |