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Well, I've got a confession to make that has haunted me for all these years since my return. I lost the war in Vietnam.
It was an intensely personal thing for me. The other side was smarter, stronger, better adapted to fighting in that environment, had a greater number of troops, was more disciplined, could eat anything, and could smell food about 82 miles away. The enemy I capitulated to was a buncha rats. Literally.
Fire Support Base Libby was overrun by large rats that came out *mostly* at night.
At night, they ran all over me. They would run across my legs, sometimes across my chest; they knocked my drinking can onto my face one night. I don't think they were any worse in my bunker than others. I looked through the Starlight at our fire base one night and quickly put it down. Some things are better if you *can't* see them. I never swatted at them because I was afraid of the rabies shots if I was bitten.
I knew of others who *tried* to get bitten to get the shots 'cause they would be out of the field for a while. Hell, all they had to do was grab one. You could hear them rustling next to you at night. I got to where they didn't bother me too much; and I could sleep--unless they walked on me.
These rats were very large. I heard them called jungle rats, which made sense since that's where we were. They were the size of tomcats--no shit. When there were fire missions at night (H&I or support), the dust would settle in the bunkers about 1/8" thick. In the morning, big rat tracks and tail marks would be everywhere, including the dust which had settled on you.
I put out rat traps--*big* traps. I would hear them go off at night, and they would be gone in the morning. Always imagined the rat getting back home and showing off his new hat.
One night, I got some mail; and my mom had sent me a package of red licorice (a childhood favorite). I wasn't thinking (I may be prone to that) and shoved it in my pack. I love my mom, and she sent me red licorice. It just doesn't get any better than this.
In the middle of the night, I was awakened by a huge ruckus next to me. There was squealing, thumping, ripping, etc. I grabbed my flashlight, which I kept nearby, and shone it towards the noise. The noise stopped. There were 12 beady red (in the light) eyes staring up at me. They belonged to the six rats that had torn apart my pack and my licorice.
We stared at each other for about five seconds, and they went back to their fight. As they fought and drew blood and ate my treat, I considered the best course of action. They didn't LOOK afraid. I gave up and went back to sleep. Who wants red licorice with rat spit on it? It's shameful, I know.
This is how I lost the war in Vietnam. The war with the rats at Fire Base Libby. But you'll have to find someone else to blame the loss of the whole shooting match on. Me and my brothers and my sisters did our jobs.............and more.
V-man
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