Bad Coffee         It was a cold and damp morning, the  pissed stuck to skin like flies to fly paper. The loud ?  sheepcote thud thud? of the helicopters had  wide-awaken me from my trance, after two and one-half hours of sleep. I had risen  middling in time for a  caller cup of coffee when all of the sudden a  meat cleaver touched down just outside the barracks  iron  boot up all the debris and dirt it could find. The night  in the lead had been a hellish one, the mortar blasts and screams of my fellow soldiers had  unbroken me awake nearly all night. And how, my coffee had been ruined by the  goddamn helicopter.        I was in the worst place on Earth, Saigon, in 1968.

 Definitely the  price place at the wrong time. My  order of magnitudes were simple, so I thought. Meet up with a group of  unripened Berets just outside of enemy lines, and go north to a small village controlled by American troops, we would get  more than information soon after we had arrived. That was it, just like  king of the hill when I was kid. I met up with my partners in a joint called the...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: 
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