LAUGHTER THE BEST MUNITION
Once during a tactical at Gabriel Davies Tavern, New Jersey, I was alone in the woods pretending to be light infantry, even though I am anything but. I tried to cut through some brush over a hill, certain the paths were ambushed. There were tough thorns, but they seemed to end just over the hill. So I pressed on. The thorns didn't end, nor did they end over the next rise. Soon enough my socks were shredded and as red as my regimental. I felt like an idiot and still wasn't out of the thickets.
When Papa Joe, an American Rifleman in heavy buckskins more suited to the terrain, finally came to see what all the thrashing was about the most damaging volley he launched at me was peals of laughter. He might as well have been shooting ball. I'd been ambushed afterall!
- J Justin, 1NJV
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