As I was finishing my after breakfast cigarette, my fire team leader came up to our hole and told us to get ready to go out on another company size patrol. the other three guys in the hole started bitching, saying things like: “fuck that shit, man; why do we have to go out every mother-fucking day; them sons-of-goddamn bitches.
After all the bitching, we found out that we would be following Second Platoon out this time. We left the perimeter about the same place we had come in the day before. This patrol seemed to last a lot longer than the previous one because we were moving through elephant grass at a faster pace and covered more ground. We walked up and down little hills and water through streams on the valley floor.
I remember telling one of the tall black guys in my squad that I wished I would have an accident and break my leg so I could get the fuck out of the bush. I was very tired at the time and I didn’t think I could take much more of this walking and falling down in mud. He told me that he didn’t want anything to happen to him and that all he wanted to do was his time and go home in one piece. He did eventually go home without any wounds.
Right after that conversation, we started heading back up the hill towards our peimeter and I started felling better.
Things went on as usual that night except I had to move down three holes and stand lines because another fire team had gone ooh on LP (Listening Post).
