Pancake Day 2006: Guerilla Warfare
Location: South of the front room, otherwise known as the kitchen.
Mission: To deliver pancakes to three hungry mouths.
Alternatives: Diiiiiieeeeeeee!
Imagine Vietnam. 1967. You're a 16 year old Northern Liberation Front(NLA) soldier in the midst of the Vietcong, crouched behind a spiky green and yellow bush just outside the edge of a Village recently occupied by an American platoon. Except that the bush is no ordinary bush. This bush conceals the hidden entrance to a huge network of underground tunnels.
You're not scared by the nearby sounds of badly silenced whispering or the snapping of twigs under the heavy boots of American soldiers. They are mere novices in Jungle warfare, and the guerilla tactics employed by you and your small squad trained in guerilla warfare not only devastate the enemy's morale , but also render most technological advantages they have useless. Their highly expensive training does not prepare them against the environment they face, nor the tactics we employ. So I am not worried, for although alone, I have the upper hand.
They are tense, arguing quietly amongst themselves. I don't understand what they are saying, but I can tell where they are headed from their hand movements. A hand points right at me, indicating with two fingers in a pointing motion. I freeze, although I'm confident that I cannot be seen. If they come, it will take me mere seconds to slip into the tunnel and escape. Even if they find the entrance, they won't be able to follow; the tunnels are marginally larger than the average Vietnamese man, but too small for the larger Americans, especially with all the equipment they carry.
Following the examples set by Chinese Guerrillas before them, the Vietcong's highest priority was to build safe base areas. Each villager in the NLA has to dig 3 feet of tunnel a day. Because of spotter planes, above ground bases are easily discovered and neutralised. Tunnel networks were created as a method to combat this. It's a safe recluse from the enemy, with sleeping quarters and kitchens. This tunnel's main path leads right back into the jungle, and resurfaces near the Ho Chi Minh Trail, although it joins the main network of tunnels. There's about 200 miles of tunnel in total. Inside the deepest tunnels are multiple caverns, containing store rooms for weapons, rice, along with equipment for making traps and medical equipment.
The higher level tunnels weave an intricate nest of hidden entrances and diguised ground level firing bunkers. I dig my hand into the bush, grab the center and twist to reveal an entrance barely a foot square. I ease myself in and the replace the bush on top, checking that it is correctly in place and secure. I climb down the long wooden ladder to the bottom, calling out to the sentry posted behind a very small opening in the tunnel. If I don't call, halfway down I'll end up shot or bayoneted through the gap. I crawl on my stomach through a tunnel so narrow it brushes the top of my head as I slither along to the nearest firing post. The firing post is a bunker dug out of the earth from beneath. It has several small openings in the top from which I can fire. From the outside, it's nearly impossible to spot, as it looks like part of the normal undergrowth.
I take aim at the soldiers with my Chinese-made AK47, and let rip. The gun emits a deafening blat-blat noise that sends the nearby birds spiraling upwards into the sky. The soldiers dive in all directions, and one crumples where he stands, a victim of my A-K. The bullet cases ricochett around the inside of the firing post, bouncing off the sides and hitting me before coming to rest on the floor, smoldering a little. The remaining soldiers spread further out, firing wildly into the undergrowth, when their guns are firing properly, that is. They're not even looking my way. The sound of the gun is muffled somewhat by my bunker, and the remaining sound dissipates in the forest, making it difficult to place.
They're close now, close enough for me to see the sweat gleaming on their faces from the intense head and humidity. I pick off one, two, three American soldiers. I duck as a grenade is thrown in my direction; it's close, but not close enough to do more than hurt my ears if I don't cover them. I cover my ears. I look from the bunker, I cannot see my enemy any more. Maybe they've retreated. Maybe, but unlikely. It's time for me to move on also. Never stay in one place. My patriotism keeps me going. "Forever Hate The American Invaders".**
Fin.
** Except Jeff
Right, now imagine this, but instead of Vietnam, it was my kitchen, and instead of bullets and grenades, you have one lightly burnt and incredibly robust pancake.
I won't describe the fun activities that went on in the kitchen that night, as the Vietnam story I wrote covers that nicely, however you may find it interesting to know that slightly burnt cold pancakes also make very durable frisbees. Thanks to Laura and Nate, for providing pancakes, and moving targets. :)
That was my Shrove Tuesday. I bet it was better than yours.
For more info on Vietcong Tunnels, see here
Mission: To deliver pancakes to three hungry mouths.
Alternatives: Diiiiiieeeeeeee!
Imagine Vietnam. 1967. You're a 16 year old Northern Liberation Front(NLA) soldier in the midst of the Vietcong, crouched behind a spiky green and yellow bush just outside the edge of a Village recently occupied by an American platoon. Except that the bush is no ordinary bush. This bush conceals the hidden entrance to a huge network of underground tunnels.
You're not scared by the nearby sounds of badly silenced whispering or the snapping of twigs under the heavy boots of American soldiers. They are mere novices in Jungle warfare, and the guerilla tactics employed by you and your small squad trained in guerilla warfare not only devastate the enemy's morale , but also render most technological advantages they have useless. Their highly expensive training does not prepare them against the environment they face, nor the tactics we employ. So I am not worried, for although alone, I have the upper hand.
They are tense, arguing quietly amongst themselves. I don't understand what they are saying, but I can tell where they are headed from their hand movements. A hand points right at me, indicating with two fingers in a pointing motion. I freeze, although I'm confident that I cannot be seen. If they come, it will take me mere seconds to slip into the tunnel and escape. Even if they find the entrance, they won't be able to follow; the tunnels are marginally larger than the average Vietnamese man, but too small for the larger Americans, especially with all the equipment they carry.
Following the examples set by Chinese Guerrillas before them, the Vietcong's highest priority was to build safe base areas. Each villager in the NLA has to dig 3 feet of tunnel a day. Because of spotter planes, above ground bases are easily discovered and neutralised. Tunnel networks were created as a method to combat this. It's a safe recluse from the enemy, with sleeping quarters and kitchens. This tunnel's main path leads right back into the jungle, and resurfaces near the Ho Chi Minh Trail, although it joins the main network of tunnels. There's about 200 miles of tunnel in total. Inside the deepest tunnels are multiple caverns, containing store rooms for weapons, rice, along with equipment for making traps and medical equipment.
The higher level tunnels weave an intricate nest of hidden entrances and diguised ground level firing bunkers. I dig my hand into the bush, grab the center and twist to reveal an entrance barely a foot square. I ease myself in and the replace the bush on top, checking that it is correctly in place and secure. I climb down the long wooden ladder to the bottom, calling out to the sentry posted behind a very small opening in the tunnel. If I don't call, halfway down I'll end up shot or bayoneted through the gap. I crawl on my stomach through a tunnel so narrow it brushes the top of my head as I slither along to the nearest firing post. The firing post is a bunker dug out of the earth from beneath. It has several small openings in the top from which I can fire. From the outside, it's nearly impossible to spot, as it looks like part of the normal undergrowth.
I take aim at the soldiers with my Chinese-made AK47, and let rip. The gun emits a deafening blat-blat noise that sends the nearby birds spiraling upwards into the sky. The soldiers dive in all directions, and one crumples where he stands, a victim of my A-K. The bullet cases ricochett around the inside of the firing post, bouncing off the sides and hitting me before coming to rest on the floor, smoldering a little. The remaining soldiers spread further out, firing wildly into the undergrowth, when their guns are firing properly, that is. They're not even looking my way. The sound of the gun is muffled somewhat by my bunker, and the remaining sound dissipates in the forest, making it difficult to place.
They're close now, close enough for me to see the sweat gleaming on their faces from the intense head and humidity. I pick off one, two, three American soldiers. I duck as a grenade is thrown in my direction; it's close, but not close enough to do more than hurt my ears if I don't cover them. I cover my ears. I look from the bunker, I cannot see my enemy any more. Maybe they've retreated. Maybe, but unlikely. It's time for me to move on also. Never stay in one place. My patriotism keeps me going. "Forever Hate The American Invaders".**
Fin.
** Except Jeff
Right, now imagine this, but instead of Vietnam, it was my kitchen, and instead of bullets and grenades, you have one lightly burnt and incredibly robust pancake.
I won't describe the fun activities that went on in the kitchen that night, as the Vietnam story I wrote covers that nicely, however you may find it interesting to know that slightly burnt cold pancakes also make very durable frisbees. Thanks to Laura and Nate, for providing pancakes, and moving targets. :)
That was my Shrove Tuesday. I bet it was better than yours.
For more info on Vietcong Tunnels, see here
Ryaninja flipped out at 12:51 pm
Throw me a Stabby Shuriken - 1 thrown so far!
1 Comments:
Use the sugar. Use it to blind them.
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