I've got $3000....  SGT Still was our motor sergeant.  He was a drafted shake and bake NCO.  The army did a good thing when they made him one.  He was likeable and dependable, and we could always count on him.  But, he absolutley hated every day he was in Vietnam.  There wasn't probably a week that ever went by that he didn't to say to me, "I've got $3000 in the bank back home.  I'll give it all to you if you let me get the Hell outa here."  My reply to him would always be, "No, you're going to stay up here in the rubber trees with the rest of us until your DEROS.  Then you can go home and your $3000 will be there for you to start over with."  I'm sure Niner 5 and CPT Gudat used to tell him something simuliar.  One wet afternoon he and I were fixing flat tires; a thankless job even in nice weather.  He looked up and over at me.  Before he could say anything, I said, "Yeah I know.  You've got $3000."  He threw the tire iron against a rubber tree.  Before I could say anything else, he said, "Shutup Chief."  We kind of worked in silence for a few minutes and started talking again.  I wonder where SGT Still is today.   Chief 101st wants us to cut an LZ a day ... future ops, dot the countryside with landing zones, that sort of stuff. Lazy us, we pick a place with scrub brush and one old dead mahogany tree ... limbs reaching skyward, must'a been 200 foot high. Easy LZ, just knock down the tree. Easier said than done.   Ol' sarge and his crew get to work while the rest of the guys pull security. Wired up some C-4 and ... "fire in the hole" three times. Boom! Black smoke and blue flame, but the tree still stands. Ooops.   A second attempt produces no better results. Dang, baby, y'all ain't got that tree down yet?   Hole in the tree and it's hollow inside. Pack a case of C-4 inside and ... amid good natured jeers at the sarge for not blowing the tree down to begin ... we back off and fire that bad boy up again. This time, however, no one really believes the tree will go down, and most of us stay standing upright.   Fire in the hole my a$$. Ka-Boom!   Tree shakes, limbs fall, and it starts to come crashing down. Suddenly, heavy shards of mahogany come radiating out from the tree ... spreading at high speed in all directions ... we had created a "mahogany bomb." One piece catches my RTO on the elbow, another sliver hits a guy in the chest, and a chunk the size of Manhattan hits me in the hand. With three wounded (and me with my right little metacarpal busted) the LZ is first used for a medevac to take us to the 18th Surg at Quang Tri.   While there, a WAC (or some such) general (a one-button) comes into the hospital for a tour. She's pinning Purple Hearts on anything in a bed. Well, dang if I'm going to let a "soft soldier" pin a medal on me for something as stupid as blowing up a tree. So, what's a fella to do? I did the only rational thing, I hid in the men's room until she left. When I emerged, the guy with malaria in the bunk opposite me had a Purple Heart, and the guy who had lost two fingers in a fork lift accident had one too.   I left there two days later, arm in a cast and back to the field. I was never so glad to be rid of a place as that.   Trav         On a mission, an entrance to a tunnel was discovered at the bottom of a spider-hole. I entered the tunnel opening to find that it extended about ten feet to open into a huge underground room, 8' x 15', that was stacked with arms and ammo. When crawling out, I noticed what appeared to be another opening to the left of the first. It was only several inches high, but it was deep, so I started digging it out large enough to see what I could. Pressing my cheek to the ground, I saw that it made an upward turn. We dug it out large enough for me to get in. It opened into what looked like another room, about 3 feet higher than the level I was at. Pushing against the extended hands of one of the other guys, I inched forward and up, twisting my body to turn toward the larger part of the room. I had a .38 S&W and flashlight. I had the flashlight in my left hand and had pushed and twisted so that my left arm and head were above the wood-line trap door entrance (the door was missing). Suddenly, I could not move! I could go neither forward nor backwards. I had twisted my body so that my knees were against the top of the lower opening and my legs were locked. Upper-body was twisted 90 deg, I was stuck! After informing the others of my perdicament, I casually started to describe the contents of the room, that I could see, while they began to dig me out. One of the men, Buzz Hawpe, had a huge knife, which he was using to chip away the clay at my knees, then at the wood liner around my chest. At my sudden movements, he yelled, "Dammit, Reb! Be still or I'm gonna cut you". "Cut all you want! Just get me outta here, I ain't by myself in here! There's a snake in here, a BIG snake!" I exclaimed. My pistol was in the other hand, so I was at the snakes mercy. The snake was crawling through ammo cans, so I soon lost sight of it. When Hawpe got the wood freed, I could move again and decided to continue into the room. It was full of ammo and plastic (Chinese) explosives. I found a log ceiling portion of the room and beat on it until they found the location from above. I didn't see the snake again until the roof had been dug up and I had exited. An S-3 Major had come out to see the site. He was a sight to see, clean, starched unifom, web gear (only the harness and pistol belt), up-side-down K-Bar taped to harness, and a spotless .38 in a shoulder holster! SHARP! We were standing near the opening and I was telling about the snake, when he said, "THERE IT IS," snatched out his pistol and fired two rounds into the hole before we could stop him. He was very indignant, when I ask what the hell he was doing, until I informed him that we were standing on top of a couple of tons of ammo and explosives. He went back to his chopper and that was the last we heard from him. We took a token of the contents of ammo,explosives, and all the weapons, then rigged the rest for detonation. I don't know if the snake got out or not, but ten minutes later, he had a helluva headache!   Reb  A 3/4 Cav 25th Inf Div  69/70       I was an engineer with the 299th Engr. Bat. I worked the 50 on a gun truck called the Bad Hombry. One day on a trip to an LZ we were going up the Ankai pass we were ambushed from top of the pass, a chopper (cobra) from Ankai was called in for support. it was a ruckey pilot who did not know to come in from the back side of the pass and just as he came over the hill he was right in my sights. Forturnetly I only winged him, he had to set down and fix a hydrolic line I hit. He did remember after he set down though that someone had told him no to come in over the pass but he couldn't remember why till then. as a result though he did get us a minigun for the truck, but I still loved the feel of the 50 though I will dig up a pic and send it - welcome home - Engineer SGT. 1969-1971   So Ya Wanna Drive a Truck By Joe Colussi It took me exactly 24 hrs. to know why the sign over the entrance to Dau Tieng basecamp said, "Welcome to Rocket City." So needless to say, after a few months, I was looking for ways that would get me out of there from time to time. One opportunity came when one of the guys in my company needed a "shotgun" (someone armed to sit in the passenger seat) to ride with him in a flatbed tractor-trailer on a convoy to Cu Chi. A few hours to get there, spend the night and come back the next day. I volunteered to go that time and several times afterwards. It was a dusty, but nice way to spend the day. Before long and after a few lessons on backing the rig up, I became the driver and looked forward to the bi-monthly convoys to Cu Chi. Though only a PFC, it made me feel kind of important sitting behind the wheel of that big, 5-ton diesel tractor. It was my truck and I was in charge. One evening, I was told I’d be taking a blown up APC (armored personnel carrier) to Cu Chi the next day. When we got there the next morning, I was shocked to see that instead of a nice, fairly new diesel, my truck was an old "gasser" that had seen its best days years ago. But that was the truck I was going to be driving that day. My shotgun, Dave and I threw our flak jackets, helmets and M-16s in the cab and watched as they loaded the APC onto the trailer. That’s when things started to go wrong. The guys were having a hard time getting the APC situated on the trailer and it was getting close to the time I had to leave to line up for the convoy. The convoy left around 9 a.m. and if you missed it, you had to wait for another one the next day or the day after. Finally, it was loaded and chained down but it had put me behind. We had to hurry to get to the convoy by nine. I jumped into the tractor and Dave guided me back to hook up to the trailer. When I felt the trailer lock in, I yelled for Dave to jump in. I only went about a foot or two when I heard this grinding, crunching noise. "What the hell was that?" I said as I jumped out to see what happened. My jaw dropped and my heart sank when I saw what it was. In my hurry to make the convoy, I forgot to wind up the legs that held the trailer up. Now, the two steel legs were bent and would not go up. The day from hell had begun in earnest! "Now what?" Dave asked as we stood there staring at the mangled pieces of metal. Suddenly, I got an idea. I ran over to the service and evac section of our company and told one of the guys I had an emergency and to get his cutting torch and come with me. He wheeled his ox-acetylene rig up to the truck and I told him to cut the legs off. He looked at me like I was from Mars and said, "Are you sure you want me to do that?" I told him I was and to hurry up. When the second leg dropped to the ground, we jumped in the truck and took off to meet the convoy. We got in line with plenty of time to spare and we’d worry about the rest later. Things were going fine till we got a few miles south of Tay Ninh. Suddenly, the engine cut out and I couldn’t re-start it. I pulled off the road and we jumped out to see what was wrong. Just then, Dave yells, "Come here and look at this!" I went around to his side and saw the battery box, which was situated in a compartment under the passenger seat, an inch from falling off the truck completely. It was supposed to have a latch that kept it secured under the cab, but it was missing and because of the rough ride, it worked it’s way loose and almost fell out. And to make matters worse, the battery cable had already been broken in half and someone had put it together with a piece of electrical tape. Of course now, most of the sticky stuff on the tape was gone. We taped it back together as best we could, shoved the battery box back where it belonged and got in the truck. To both our surprise, it started up! We got back in line and proceeded to our destination. We hadn’t traveled a mile when I looked at the rice paddies on the right. "Heh, look at that." I said. Dave looked over and we began to laugh when we saw somebody’s wheel go splashing into the water. But my laughter quickly faded when I thought, hmmm, my spare tire was only held on by a piece of rope. I looked out the back of the tractor and, yup, you guessed it, it was my spare. Nothing I could do about it so down the road we went hoping we didn’t get a flat. We rumbled down a particularly rough stretch of road filled with potholes, bomb craters and any other kind of kidney-jarring possibilities you could think of. The trick was trying to miss all the holes without winding up in the rice paddies. Of course, as the truck weaved around the obstacles, the battery box decided it was time to see what was going on. Well, when the power cut off to the engine, it left me with no power steering or power brakes and my truck heading for the rice paddy. It took all the strength I could muster, in my one hundred thirty-five pound body, to get the big rig onto the shoulder. Knowing by now what the problem was, Dave jumped out, taped the cable, shoved the battery box back where it belonged and jumped back in the truck. And in the elapsed time of maybe 20 seconds, we were back in the convoy. Any NASCAR pit crew would have been proud of Dave. As our journey was soon getting near its conclusion, another minor mishap occurred. And the reason I bring it up is so that you’ll know that I probably should have chosen my words a little more carefully after it was over. Suddenly, we heard a very loud hissing sound! I turned and looked out the back window. One of my air lines going to the trailer had come loose and was flapping in the breeze. I told Dave to keep his foot on the gas pedal and steer while I climbed out to the back of the tractor and hooked the line back up. A piece of cake. Within ten seconds, I was back behind the wheel and we never even missed a beat. Dave and I kind of looked at each other and began to laugh at all the misadventures this day had brought us. "God, what else can go wrong?" I said jokingly. Well, it didn’t take long to find out. Within seconds of my ill-advised question, the truck again lost power and slowly drifted to the shoulder. Dave jumped out and tried to get us going again to no avail. Try as we might, we couldn’t get that big piece of crap started again. At the end of the convoys are the MP’s and the wreckers. So Dave and I just sat there and waited for them. First, the MP jeep came up to ask what was wrong. I told him it wouldn’t start and that we’d need a tow. He got on the radio and called for the wrecker to pick us up. He was there in a matter of seconds. He hooked up to us and asked us what company we were going to in Cu Chi. We told him and got into the cab of our disabled tractor relishing the thought of a worry-free ride for the next five miles or so. The dirt road, leading to the gate we were going to enter in Cu Chi, is a mile or so long and straight as an arrow. The rest of the convoy had already disappeared in the distance and we were the only two vehicles left. Almost there, we thought, as we sat there with our fingers interlace, behind our heads, enjoying the ride. It’s almost over! Wrong! Suddenly, the wrecker stopped and I looked out to see what was going on. I saw the driver pop the hood and I watched all this steam pour out of his engine compartment. "Well," I told Dave, "wasn’t anything we did." The wrecker driver, with a look of pure hate on his face, came back to us and screamed, "Do you have your f*cking trailer brakes on?" "Of course not! Whaddaya think I’m stupid?", I said getting out of the truck. Suddenly, as if some unseen entity tapped us on the shoulder and pointed, the driver and I both looked down the road in the direction we just came from. All we saw were skid marks, for as far as the eye could see, from the rear wheels of the trailer. Apparently, my trailer brakes had locked up somehow and the extra strain on the wrecker caused it to blow a radiator hose. After telling me what he thought of me and all my ancestors, he got on the radio and called for two more wreckers. When they arrived, one hooked up to the disabled wrecker and one hooked up to us. The driver of our wrecker asked us where we were going and we told him. When we got to A Co., he unhooked and left. Dave and I were getting our gear out of the truck when a captain came running out of the orderly room screaming that he was having a big inspection the next morning and we couldn’t leave that truck there. We assured him that we were only going to take a quick shower, to get the forty-something miles of dust off of us, and then we would have it out of there. "I mean it! You can’t leave that truck here!", he kept shouting. Our assurances of only a quick shower before we moved it, must have finally calmed him down a little as he headed back into the orderly room. Instead of heading to the showers, Dave and I took off for the transient barracks (where convoy guys sleep that are leaving again the next day) never laying eyes on that truck and its cargo again. The next morning, Dave and I walked to the chopper pad and caught a ride back to Dau Tieng. On the flight back, I thought about that poor captain and what he must have been thinking of us when he found out that the truck wouldn’t start and they couldn’t even drop the trailer. Suddenly, "Rocket City" didn’t seem so bad   Gunner, I think I've told you this one before, and some of the other C Co 815th guys may remember it, but in late '69 Roger Vaughn and I worked the night shift in the C Co motor pool on Engineer Hill at Pleiku, maintaining the trucks after you guys came in from Kontum.  One day, the day shift guys had just got off work, and were getting ready for guard duty.  I had to go back to the hooch for something and saw Sgt Jim Koller (from Wisconsin), who was always a practical joker casting a look at a guy named Aeck (from Michigan) who was headed for the latrine to drop a load.  Koller said something like, "Watch this, I'm gonna get Aeck."   He grabbed a CO2 fire extinguisher from somewhere and took off for the latrine.  Once Koller found out which hole Aeck was on he went around back and pulled up the door where the shit willies pulled to tubs out and aimed the fire extinguisher for Aeck's bottom end. Koller let go with a long burst of cold CO2, dropped the door and took off.  Aeck slammed the latrine door open and was hitching up his pants as Koller ran by,  The chase was on and Aeck was hollering, "Koller, I'm gonna kill you!"  They ran all over the Hill.  That was about the funniest thing I'd seen in a long time and I laughed my butt off!   Wish I knew where Koller is now. Adios, Dick Bowman When our squad of trucks was TDY at Phan Rang we stayed with a transportation company that were the stevedores. The supplies for the AB came in on LSTs and then we hauled everything to the airbase. The stevedores had a deuce and a half for transportation and I noticed they always had a broom in the back of the truck but noticed it looked like the bed of that truck hadn't been swept out in a long time.. Then,,,,,,, One day I knew what it was for.   One morning, we were all leaving for the beach at the same time, and I was following the 2 1/2 tonner loaded with the troops when we were passing a papa san on a bicycle, and I thought to myself,, damn they are cutting him close, when someone stood up in the back of that truck holding the broom in his hands like a baseball bat and swung and smacked papa san right up behind the head. Of course rider and bike parted company in a tremendous crash.   Mystery of the broom solved, and of course a good chuckle. We didn't always treat the vietnamese quite right.   JT^   As we were returning from Tuy-Hoa on one trip. A Capt stopped me in the large village that was right up from the AFB and told me to have my convoy stop and wait for a MACV and ARVN general that were doing diplomatic things in the village and that it would be 20 to 30 minutes. I informed the Capt that I wasn't stopping the convoy and that they would be putting the convoy at risk by being in it and themselves as well since we were already short of guntrucks and they would be an inviting target. I told him to call the ARVN for security and to get out of my way. At this time he had a few choice words for me and took the time to show me what the large pistol he carried looked like. The gunner of "The Red Barron" was equally proud of his Mini and showed him that. The Capt had a few more choice words and moved. When I got back, Maj Parks who was the XO asked me what had happened in his subtle way. I explanned it to him and he let me sit down while he called MACV and explained to them that while a convoy was on the road the CC's had the last word because it was their ass after everything was said an done and they put their convoys at risk. After he had made the call he explained to me the difination of the word Tactful.                                                                    444cc  Tactful..... we were escorting a General to Ba'sar,,just 2 jeeps and our guntruck.Our CC was a young ,LT who was about to go home ,and was very "street wise".We were about half way through the Bao Loc Pass and this General figured he would stop and take some pictures.He pulled out a real nice camera and started clickin away.    Our LT got down off the guntruck,mumbled something to the effect of....this SOB is crazy..and walked up to have a talk with the general.He said somethin to the general.The general looked at his camera,jumped back in his jeep and took off in a hurry. When the LT. got back on the truck we asked him what he had said that got the general movin so fast.He said ,that was easy,I just told him what a nice camera he had,and suggested that if he was going to continue to take pictures he should shoot them from the hip.The general asked him why, and he told him if that if he kept putting that camera up to his eye there was a very good chance it was going to get a bullet hole in it....I always thought that was tactful........gunner     One convoy to LZ English Caused a little bit of stress relief for me. As we were approching the front gate I gave the order to clear weapons. Everything was going alright until "Frustration" approched the gate and cleared it's weapons. One of the gunners accidently cooked off a 50 round. The weapon was pointed up which was good, Unfortuantly it hit the palm tree that was directly behing the guard bunker. It hit the tree in exactly the right spot. The part that narrows down right before it reaches the top. I was in the last guntruck, "Snoopy" I think, and I watched as the top of the palm tree slowly leaned over and dropped. I was not in a position to see the MP's reactions but I know that the shot must have startled them and when the top of the palm hit the bunker it must have added to their misery. Apoligies to the guards were not enough. A 2LT came and jacked me up. If you have ever had your ass chewed while trying to keep a straight face then you know what I was going through. And the Lt didn't make it easy for me. I had been in the Army for going on seven years at that time and I had never heard a young 2nd Lt use the type of language he used. He was making up curse words as he went. Some of them were new to me and I wish that I had wrote them down. And to top it all off, I don't think that he realized that after the stress of just coming through a bad area on the road, his ass chewing was a sourse of comic relief for me.     444cc     One day while waiting for the trucks to be unloaded at FSB Alpha 4 we got permission for a test fire from ????. Anyway it just so happened you could see the North Vietnamese Flag across the Dmz with binoculars. What better way to spend taxpayers money than to use the rounds for something useful? Cherry & I took turns spotting & shooting until the base commander came out & told us to get the hell off his firebase. Never did know if we got the flag or not but it was fun trying!  The Justifier might have been the only guntruck to send lead into North Vietnam .    Robbie       I was sgt of the guard one night in 1967 and I had to check on two goofballs we had guarding the motor pool area. Neither of them answered the field phone in the guard shack so I got a couple of other guys in my jeep, locked and loaded, and took off for the motor pool in a hurry. When we pulled up, they both came running out of the gate, looking very much like two of the Three Stooges. We were in a defensive posture since it looked like serious trouble. I was just about to call for more help when one of them said they'd been attacked by giant bats. We all looked at each other and proceeded over to the guard shack where there were a bunch of bats diving into the insects attracted by the spot lights. They were very skillfull and would dive in, grab an insect and pull out in the blink of an eye. They would come close to hitting us and we could feel the air from their flapping wings but they were totally harmless. That's when I decided to play a joke on the two guards. I came back to the jeep and told them that the creatures were indeed vampire bats. I can still see both of those idiots checking each other's throats in the jeep's headlights. Guntrucker When I was a FNG.....By Ron471 Phu Hiep was receiving mortars and small arms fire my 2nd night there, I was put on the line with my 16 I shot at anything that moved, A E-6 came to me to see how the FNG was doing, He asked me not to fire and to shout dung lie and to be certain what I was shooting at. I asked is there any of our guys out there he said no, I said you better get my ass off the line cause if I see anything out there I was going to shoot. He just left me and went to the next FNG .After a couple weeks and another story the E-6 thought I was gun ho and needed or wanted to shoot someone. I was put on a gun truck as a driver, I earned myself an ass chewing the first day out. I was no truck driver but was trying to fake it with no luck.  Sgt. McWilliams was NCOIC a tall quiet guy that was short on time in nam and did not have much need for a FNG, not much was said other then check the truck out and make sure it is ready to roll, after the guys boarded, Mac said head for Vung ro, we was the first out of the gate if we were not in a convoy, driving thru Phu Hiep I did good, I got to QL1 and turned left and had a long stretch and knew I had to show my stuff, I did ok but did not know anthing about split shifting.  The next village I was going to fast and a dog ran out in front of me, and I hit the brakes, well Mac fell down part way in the cab with me his helmet off and hair standing straight up and a ass kicking look on his face.  The truck was loud but I could hear the 50 gunner say something about me and I don't think it was very good.. Mac picks himself up and didn't say a word,  I made it up the mountain and Mac said turn around and park, He liked to be on top of the mountain to watch the trucker drive up.  After I shut the truck down I turned and looked at Mac and the 50 gunner and they looked like trouble was in there eyes.  The 50 gunner was wiping blood off his arm.  Mac said you don't know how to drive for shit, I said that will never happen again, Mac was not happy with that and chew on me a while and I knew I had it coming so I took it.  The 50 gunner was a broad shoulder muscle bound guy that didn't say a word all day but I seen him looking at me, deep in thought.  After the truckers got loaded and was headed north to Tuy Hoa. Mac said it was time to learn to drive, Mac drove down the mountain nice and easy, when we got to the bottom he started going thru gears I didn't know there were, and we was hauling ass faster then any 5 ton I ever knew was possible, by the end of the day I had it down good and was liking it, the old gun truck was loose and  had no top end.  The next day it was the same thing nobody was talking to me, so I did like the day before and check out the truck, I had a long talk to myself about the guys standing up in the back and I was not going to hit the brakes again. The guys got on board and Mac said head for Vung Ro, I got to the village where I hit the brakes the day before, it looked like the same dog in the middle of the road, engrossed in licking himself, I could feel Mac's eyes on the back of my head, I made up my mind that the dog better finish cleaning himself another time and move himself off the road.  But he was too busy to notice the truck coming and I nailed him and never took my foot off the throttle.  I looked in the mirror to see a mess and two mama sons getting the road kill.  I glanced back at Mac and seen a sick look on his face.  I got to the top and turned around and shut the truck down,  I sat there in the driver seat, all was quite.  After a bit, the 50 gunner said the M/F won't be on the road again...  The guys learned to except me, I became a 60 gunner and the guys went home.  I became the NCOIC, I spent a year on the playboys; July, 69 to August 70, then I was on a chopper on my way to Cam Ro Bay, then home...      Well, I didn't think it was funny! ... My Platoon had been on a recon-in force all morning. It was well over a hundred degrees, so when time for our Class 1 break came, I had the driver pull "Hawaiian Punch" (I combat lossed 5 different Sheridan tanks) under the shade of a tree near three hootches that were nearby our recon area. I climbed out of the TC Hatch, stretched, then walked to the edge of the back-deck to relieve myself. Once the flow have started, I felt something crawling on my neck, and turned my head to see that my entire left shoulder was covered by "The Big Red One". Now I don't know if you're familiar with the 'Fire-ants' like we have down South, but they are very vicsous when the anthill is disturbed. Fire-ants are only about an eighth of an inch long, attack by the hundreds, and believe me when I tell you, You know when you are bitten and/or stung! NOW, "The Big Red One" are a 1/4" to 3/8" version of the fire-ant, that make their nests in trees and bushes, by pulling leaves together like a 'Catawba Worm' nest (Guess you have to know about Catawba Worms to visualize it). Anyway, the shoulder was covered and a re-enforced division was coming to aid the batallion on my shoulder! They had the element of suprize and quickly were inside of my clothing! I, on the other hand, had experienced this sort of attack before and knew the main manner of counter-attack! GET NAKED! I was out of my clothes in two seconds FLAT, yelling for support from our Chemical Warfare Detachment (My Loader and Back-Deck man armed with G.I. Issue insecticide spray). In a few anxious moments, the righteous side won by means of superior technology, and I turned to find half a dozen Vietnamese kids rolling on the ground in fits of laughter!   You know,... Come to think of it, ... That was pretty damn FUNNY!   Reb 2A3/4CAV25thInfDiv  69/70       Reb,that was funny,I gota red ant story.     One thing  about hangin out with engineers was you never lacked for the proper equipment. we were walkin to the mess hall one morning,and Billy bad ass saw a big nest of red ants in the base of an old tree.    We had all experienced the wrath of the red ants,and couldn't resist givin them a hard time.There was a fuel tanker sittin there,and billy fired it up and put about 5 gallons of diesel down the hole.....This didn't have a whole lot of effect on the ants...It just pissed the ants off and they decided to leave the area.Billy had only seen a few on the surface,but an army come outa that hole,To this day I dont trust ants.....they could take over the world if they wanted to.   Anyway....This irriatated the boys and they broke out the zippos and set the ants on fire....and this irriatated the ants,but they kept comin outta the hole,couldnt stop them...on fire....runnin like hell......does this remind you of somebody Well,It didn't take long for the tree to catch fire.There was a water tanker sittin there and Billy fired it up and was usin it for a fire truck. Problem was the water floated the burning fuel up out of the hole,and the fire started spreadin....thats when they fired up the dozer,and took down the tree and covered the hole up with a couple feet of dirt.   Engineers ,they were fun to hang around with,we all missed breakfast......but we killed them dam ants..........gunner

By Larry Midash