Typical Day
by Glyn Haynie
by Glyn Haynie
2nd Squad Aug 12, 1969
Each evening when we stopped for the night, I prepared my dinner: canned beef with spice sauce, crackers with peanut butter and jelly, pears, and Kool-Aid. As I ate, I looked around at my platoon brothers and thought, Who's going to die tonight?
Once I finished my meal, I rolled into my poncho liner. Lying on the hard ground, I felt the fear rush over me as darkness approached. I closed my eyes for much-needed rest that seldom came.
When the sun rose, I climbed out of my poncho liner, thankful I'd survived another night. I made breakfast—pound cake, peaches, and hot chocolate. Sipping the hot chocolate, I looked at my platoon brothers again and thought, Who's going to die today?
After breakfast, we slung our 60-pound rucksacks onto our backs and started walking with slow, deliberate steps through rice paddies, hedgerows, and fields, then into the jungle.
With each step, I wondered, Who's going to die today? All the while knowing we were bait to draw the enemy into the open.
This was a typical day in Vietnam.
Once I finished my meal, I rolled into my poncho liner. Lying on the hard ground, I felt the fear rush over me as darkness approached. I closed my eyes for much-needed rest that seldom came.
When the sun rose, I climbed out of my poncho liner, thankful I'd survived another night. I made breakfast—pound cake, peaches, and hot chocolate. Sipping the hot chocolate, I looked at my platoon brothers again and thought, Who's going to die today?
After breakfast, we slung our 60-pound rucksacks onto our backs and started walking with slow, deliberate steps through rice paddies, hedgerows, and fields, then into the jungle.
With each step, I wondered, Who's going to die today? All the while knowing we were bait to draw the enemy into the open.
This was a typical day in Vietnam.