South Vietnam 1968, the middle of the night.

Thanks to cloud cover and very few lights on the ground,

the kind of dark your eyes can't completely adjust to,

almost like being underground.

Thanks to the southeast, Asian humidity,

the air is thick and heavy, heavy enough to affect your breathing.

Feels like you almost need gills.

Carefully and as quickly and quietly as possible,

a real life Rambo places a small, heavy rectangular box

out of its pouch, Robert Bob Howard, a man who looked like he was built

to not born, built in some lab where scientists worked tirelessly

for years to create the perfect soldier.

Broad shoulders, buzz cuts, square jaw,

just over six feet tall, full of wire,

he stringing muscles in a steely stair,

Bob Howard, the future colonel,

looked like a GI Joe action figure,

someone had enlarged and brought to life.

Line in a roadside ditch,

Bob could feel the earth shake around him

as a Russian or maybe Chinese built diesel truck,

rumbled towards him.

...