"Death in the Delta, Diary of a Navy SEAL"

As the men continued their cackling and
drinking, I couldn't help but take a good,
long look at each of them. They were all
fine, strong men, I thought. Sure, they were
a bit rowdy and coarse, but the
heat, the harsh living conditions', and the
hell of a swamp war were not conducive to
the milksop and the mollycoddle. War was, in
fact, a bitch, and these men did not refrain
from calling it a bitch and treating it as .
such. And neither did I as I mentally
prepared to depart from my friends the
next day. I knew I would soon be stepping
smack in the middle of the shit hitting the
fan, once again meeting the enemy right on
his front doorstep.

With these thoughts, I suddenly raised a
can of beer and bellowed, "If I die at Nam
Canh, men, put this verse on my tombstone:
'And when he goes to Heaven, to Saint
Peter he will tell: Another Navy SEAL
reporting, sir; I've spent my time in hell!'

"Hoo-yah" a couple of men chorused, then
we all drank the night away ...

Taken From:
"Death in the Delta, Diary of a Navy SEAL"
by Gary R. Smith and Alan Maki,
Authors of "Death in the Jungle"