The last time I saw Charlie, I was in-country and they were maddening shadows, the damn bastards, in the green and black dense jungle foliage. Hiding, ghostly and evasive. My brother soldiers and I were sweating in dry-mouthed anticipation. The Bong Son Bombers we smoked the day before was a brief vacation for our spent minds. We had some fear, some anger, and what the hell are we doing here.thoughts. We would drift dreamily with the weed But the following day in-country all I could recall is a flash of burning ungodly pain. A chopper raging, descending lower, thunderously.