We got ready to leave. “Boys,” Brasso said, “it would be better to lump the extra ammo there and back, rather than risk being short. Pete, you can lump in our spare M60; some of you bigger blokes can carry the ammo for that; okay, let’s get set. I want plenty of water, so load yourselves with extra canteens; it gets b****y hot out in the bush, as we have all discovered.” We were put down in a thinly timbered area about two miles from the nearest hamlet and what was supposed to be an easy two-hour march to our objective. Scrambling away, we found ourselves at the edge of that very same skirt of thicket where everything grew in tight confusion. Our route was meant to be through moderate to lightly wooded country. The reality was that twenty minutes later, we were hemmed in by a thick blanket
