Operation Toreador Lady

Soliloquy of Chaos, Cheltnam, Late 1966:
Yet again I found myself humping Morse's rig through the Jungle. I still have NFC why she keeps a bunch of bus timetables and bingo cards in her pockets, but damn if still using a grease gun isn't a cry for help. Luckily the LT had dropped his shades, so I was able to maintain some coolness in spite of not having Baby with me. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this radio thing though, we even tried some accurate type artillery stuff, which was a bit hit and miss, but still seemed more pro than the usual "fuck that grid square" approach I've applied in the past. Speaking of which, I need to work on my Sierra Hotel radio voice, I asked if we could have an air strike and got a Prairie Fire, I assume, based on how perturbed I sounded. Must be the grease gun causing the lack of cool. Still, we got it done, stacked some Chelt, cleared spider holes, ambushes, rocks full o'bastards and a mine field. It was getting dark by the time we were almost finished and we got the word that Chelty was between us and home. One massive candle (flare) lit firefight later and we home.