The American Grunt

To the dirt-eating grunt, Vietnam was an endless succession of bummers. Besides the never-ending fear of death, we had to endure a host of miseries: merciless humps through a sun-scorched landscape packing eighty pregnant pounds, brain-boiling heat, hot house humidity, dehydration, heat exhaustion, sunburn, red dust, torrential rains, boot-sucking mud, blood-sucking leeches, steaming jungles, malaria, dysentery, razor sharp elephant grass, bush sores, jungle rot, moaning and groaning, meals in green cans, armies of insects, fire ants, poisonous centipedes, mosquitoes, flies, bush snakes, vipers, scorpions, rats, boredom, incoming fire, body bags; and a thousand more discomforts. Despite all this the grunt did his job well.

The greatest defeat that the United States has suffered in any war was the failure to overcome the attitude of coldness, and indifference, with which Americans shunned most of those returning veterans.

Let us never forget the men and women who served our country so valiantly and at such cost-in the difficult, much-repudiated and unforgettable Vietnam War.

The work of the grunt was unnoticed by the average American. But to the men they worked with in the field, the men that shared life and death on a daily basis he was respected and honored.

Fast Freddy says:

And that… is the essence of Charlie Company.  Hoo-Rah