Princeton HHH Hash #180.2


DATE:  10 July 1988
WEATHER:  Just like 'Nam
SET BY   Geezer
HASHERS:  Postage Paid, 1/4 Lopez, Throatwarbler Mangrove,
          Effross, Wacko, LRF
ROOKIES:  Greg Jones, Dan Kahne
BEER:  Schmidt's


DESCRIPTION: We never found out the name of the old guy who briefed us
before the mission; we just called him the Geezer among ourselves. The word
was he'd been a teacher or something until they caught him in the reagent
bottles once too often. Anyhow, here he was rattling off the target info
for a mission nobody wanted any part of - right up the river to Dregstown.
Christ, two teams had been lost up there in the last five weeks.
Curbishley, Hyde, and Kaufman had gone over the hill once they heard; never
even showed up for the briefing. HQ sent us some new meat - Kahne and
Jones. They'd regret they ever thought about signing up.
     The transport dropped us in the middle of bloody nowhere, miles from
the objective and only airdropped marks to get us there. We beat feet to
get on the roadbefore Charlie caught on that we were around. The river came
up on us fast, and before we knew it we were hip deep in the hoopla, with
Wachspress out in front (so that he'd find all the mines first). HQ said we
had to check the water tower on the far side to make sure we weren't
observed. Nice idea, but we got strung out all over the field while making
the approach, great targets for any unfriendlies. When we heard the
Dobermans across the field we knew it was time to blow that particular pop
stand. Pascal was up on the point, so he was the first to hit Charlie's
latest little surprise - vicious nerve agents smeared on ordinary-looking
nettles. Everybody tried to scrub it off in the river, except Effross, who
stopped to munch a few. No effect.
     We were stuck in the river for bloody ever after that, chin deep and
trying to ignore the crap getting in through the cuts those chem-warfare
nettles had opened. Kahne and Jones got way out in front, trying to be
heroes when most of us were worried about staying alive. They learned the
hard way to stick together, after sliding down a couple of impossible banks
and getting hacked up by underwater obstacles. After a year or so of this
Jacques Cousteau act, we spotted a dirt track - it looked too easy, but
Quackenbush and Kahne checked it out. Quackenbush got nervous and hung back
with the rest, but Kahne went balls-out into No Man's Land. God knows why,
but he stayed dry while most of us slogged through the slime.
     We finally closed in on a bridge we took for the target, running like
rabbits in case we were observed; but it was only some badly aged beer that
HQ had airdropped in. There was a tape recording from the Geezer saying
that we only had ten miles to go and if we screwed up the Secretary would
disavow all knowledge and all that crap. We were going to burn the tape,
but some unfriendly-looking locals showed up, so we hit the trail fast,
back into the wet.
     It all melts together after that: Kahne screaming "Leech! ", which
made everyone do a quick jock strap check; Pascal falling back into the
muck after a branch broke off in his hand while hiff was scaling a bank;
Wachspress lurking around a broken chimney in an empty field, checking for
the ghosts of his buddies fhser and Courtney who'd vanished after a mission
last year. Nobody really remembers how it ended, though when we weren't
yomping through an open field, we were slogging through more of those
chem-warfare gems, or knee-deep in the shiggy. We finally lost sight of
Fitzsimmons, who got way out on the point, but we all dragged our asses
into the target eventually.... and found the Geezer seated by a stream,
beer in hand, saying "War is hell, men, isn't it? Well, this was only an
exercise, and you did splendi....... That's as far as he got; a few
lungfuls of canal water will keep anybody quiet.