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BushwackyThe days are crammed full of work. This time of year, it rains at night, never very hard, and is hot during the day. The only cool places are inside the hooches, where moisture condenses on the underside of the sandbags. Outside, the perimeter of the LZ gradually expands and the red ground gets so hot we can't go barefooted; one day my feet begin to come apart inside my boots and their smell is indescribable. By general consensus I qualify for the squad's ration of foot powder, and Funkfoot looks like it might become my nickname. The second day is painful because my feet c***k and the open sores rub against my boots. I hold up my share of the work, though, and soak my feet in the morning's shaving water. About every other morning we shave out of water in our helmets and I recyc
