He remembered it perfectly.
How couldn't he? It was one of the worst days of his life. Whoever told him that a little rain wouldn't hurt anybody obviously hadn't been to Vietnam. He thought everything would be okay, all sunshine and rainbows and shit y'know.
Pretty decent weather.
Not a chance.
Apparently the base took all the advertisement of good weather literally and hadn't been bothered to check out when the rainy season came. Or they just didn't give a hang as long as they won the war. Sounded pretty good on their side of the deal. But they weren't the ones in fuckin' muddy trenches and caving foxholes with bullets go off in their eardrums.
They weren't the ones praying to a God that they weren't sure actually existed to not die.
"Not just yet."
They had too much to live for to die in a fuckin' trench in a foreign country just because someone had a problem. He didn't even really know what that problem was, and he really didn't give a rat's ass as long as he made it out alive.
It wasn't his problem.
But somehow life has a funny way of getting you into messes that you never wanted to get into in the first place.
