You would start out with your poncho on, to try and keep yourself dry but it never really did that much good. You would still get soaking wet from the condensation that collected against the inside of the poncho, due to your body heat meeting the cooler surface of the poncho, thereby producing moisture. Also, the mosquitoes got right under there with you; so it was a no win situation. As a result, most of the time when it rained, I would finally take the poncho off, since I was already soaked to the bone. I got tired of being "canned blood and meat" for the mosquitoes. And, during a rain if I did not have the poncho on, the mosquitoes either did not fly out in the rain or maybe I just did not notice them. Whatever it was, it was better not wearing the poncho.

Pistol and I patrolled the edge of the jungle (we still had jungle within the confines of the base) most of the night. But, many times we would just take a position at a good vantage point, where we could keep an eye on the perimeter fence. We might stand or sit there from anywhere between 5 and 15 minutes. And, then patrol again for a while; then take position at another vantage point. I never liked to establish a routine pattern while on any post. I knew that establishing a routine pattern could prove to be detrimental to my safety and offered greater opportunities for intrusion through the perimeter fence.

The rain continued and the night slowly passed by as Pistol and I made our patrol of the post. It was a miserable, boring and monotonous night. There had been no incident of any kind to make the night pass more quickly. In fact, we had not seen or heard the dog teams posted on either side of us.

The shift was now about over, maybe 30 minutes or so until the truck would be coming to pick us up. I decided to walk to the intersection of my post and John Crabb's, (John was one of my roommates). Pistol and I took our time as we proceeded toward the intersection of the posts. As we were approaching the intersection I could see John and his dog approaching as well. We met up and there was not much more than a grunt of an exchange of words between us. We were both wet and miserable and did not feel much like talking. I guess all we had on our minds was getting back to the barracks and getting out of our wet clothes and boots, cleaning up and getting some sleep.

There was a log of some kind at the intersection of our posts. And, John and I sat down on opposite ends (to keep some distance between our dogs, to prevent them from possibly getting into a fight). We sat there for a few minutes, not saying a word. Then, almost like mirror imagery, we reached down and picked up a stick and started writing, drawing, poking and playing in the mud that was all around us. Simultaneously, John and I turned our heads and faced each other, the sticks were dropped and we both reached down and got a handful of mud. We squeezed the mud until it oozed out between our fingers. We reached down and got another handful. There was a slight hesitation and then we grinned at one another. And, the worst "Mud Fight" in U-Tapao history was underway. The first handfuls were thrown from the sitting position. We scooped up another handful, jumped up and started throwing and slinging all that slimy mud at one another. It was pure chaos, a direct hit in the face, one to the shoulder; one in the chest, a thigh, the belly, no part was left untouched, as we bent down, scooped up and threw handful after handful at each other. Our dogs were going wild as we slung that stinking and slimy mud at each other. And, then we heard the truck coming. It was time to regain our composure, no matter how difficult. The truck pulls up, with all the other dog teams on board. I guess they were really quite shocked as to how John and I looked as we boarded the truck. I do seem to recall some laughing, heckling and questioning as we got on the truck. I don't recall whether John and I said anything back to them or not, it really doesn't matter. It was a bright moment for John and me. And, it had relieved the stress and tension we both felt, after a miserable night out on post.