To
the dirt-eating grunt, Vietnam was an endless succession of bummers.
Besides the never-ending fear of death, we had to endure a host
of miseries: merciless humps through a sun-scorched landscape
packing eighty pregnant pounds, brain-boiling heat, hot house
humidity, dehydration, heat exhaustion, sunburn, red dust, torrential
rains, boot-sucking mud, blood-sucking leeches, steaming jungles,
malaria, dysentery, razorsharp elephant grass, bush sores, jungle
rot, moaning and groaning, meals in green cans, armies of insects,
fire ants, poisonous centipedes, mosquitoes, flies, bush snakes,
vipers, scorpions, rats, bordedom, incoming fire, body bags, and
a thousand more discomforts. Dispite all this the grunt did his
job well.
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