Thirty-eight

The jungle.  Man, I hate the jungle!  It’s hot, humid, and a bitch.  They warn you about the diseases and the colorful frogs, but they don’t say jack about how you’re never dry, the plants covered with ants that sting like wasps, the leaves that leave little fibers in you that burn and get infected, or a million other minor little details.  Can’t sleep because of the damn howler monkeys!  Noisy bastards, but at least they tell you who’s coming and going. 2

3

God, I’m tired, but it’s almost over.  We can finally go home.  I’m going to get clean and relax around the house.  Rob said he’s going to keep his wife in their bed for a week.  I don’t see where he’ll get the energy.  Ha, he’ll probably need to take three pills just to last an hour.4

5

Been poppin’ those little beauties like candy these last few days.  Sleep, energy, and courage all wrapped in a tiny easy-to-swallow capsule.  Can’t afford to crash now.  Just found the last camp.  One more night of clean up and I can go home.  Christ, I hate this type of mission!  Wish it had been a simple paint job, but at least they probably won’t call us in for a while after this one.  Just one more night and I can go home and forget.    6