July 30, 1968

We were surprised by the fact we didn’t have to go out on patrol this day. All we had to do was make sure there was one man at each fighting hole. We just sat around and laid around under our ponchos which we had stretched out for shade since all the trees had blown away in the assault. We talked about life in the Sates and fire fights some of the other men had been in, ate our meals, smoked a lot of cigarettes, cleaned our rifles. I stood watch as usual that night under a layer of bug juice.

© Carole Dixon 2015