I’ve got to say, there’s somethin that just can’t be replaced about being one of those poor sons of bitches down there with two tanks of kerosene strapped to your back. Liquid fire pouring all over the VC. The man in the dark pajamas, a formidable opponent indeed, popping out of one of his spider holes soaked with rice patty. Ain’t no human in this world harder to ignite with your flame tosser then one that’s been seeping himself that deep in a rice paddy wearing one of them little triangular hats, like its suppose to keep the rain off ya but you been in that muddy, magoty, malaria ridden water. You poor sun bitch, I’ll send you straight to hell with my hellfire. Fight fire with fire.Look both ways before you cross the street.Don’t you take any wooden nickels. You little VC lunatic.