During my NAM tour, I always kept a close eye on Charlie, kept him in my gun
sites if you catch my drift. It was during one perilous period back in '67
I was charged with the duty of "mine sweeping" an area 3 klicks around camp.
Mine sweeping is basically patrol duty, but ours differed in that we
actively searched out and sanctioned Charlie units in the field. Combat
soldiers, we were seasoned with the fine arts of efficient and silent
murder--and we relished the business of war. We were as silent ninjas,
killing tigers. Nearly guiltily, I still hold dear the cloth satchel
containing my fleshy trophies, embalmed for all time and safekeeping. But I
digress.

In time the men and I coined "mine sweeping" as the killing act. (The
squeamish should leave off here.) I should mention that as trained military
men, we were expert bushwhackers, and nearly always discovered Charlie's
position without revealing our own. Time and again it was curtains for
Charlie units, whose ranks we diminished one "bug-eater" at a time. The
act of mine sweeping took the form of heroic hand to hand; it was almost a
sadistic game for us. After disarming Charlie, the soldier-ninja quickly
thrust his combat knife cleanly past Charlie's ribs and into heart muscle,
where Charlie died that same instant. I do not regret our campaign of
terror we bring to NAM; I do it for God and Country.

Colonel Edmund J. Burke

NAM '67




--
In a more universal sense, we only get one thing. You know...a head stone if
we're lucky; if not, green grass.