Dennis, it only gets absurder and absurder...

We lived like kings at Ban Me Thuot, Teddy Roosevelt's Hunting Lodge... "The Cottage." Go out in the morning, insert some ARVNs, shoot up a couple treelines. (Treeline shot back once. Yikes.) Back to The Cottage for lunch in the MACV dining room. White Tablecloths, etc. Back out in the afternoon, try to kill a few dinks... ahh, it's getting late. Why don't we head back for cocktail hour, you think guys?

Kontum. MACV dining room. Check yer effing weapons at the door. (They scratch the furniture, you know... Really.) White tablecloths. Waiters, white jackets. Medallions of veal... puddle of gravy... mashed potatoes... waiters hover... then go kill some dinks after lunch. Jesus.

When we stopped there, after the first time, before I strap-locked the ship, I always took my shirt off, put the .45 on under the shirt, then we went to eat. Check yer weapon? I don't think so, Nguyen.

Axe me agin, I'll kill ya, unnerstan? Whaddaya you, NVA? Huh? HUH? WHAT?

Like I said; absurd.