Ive told this story before so if youve read this bear with me. His name was Jack. Tough little Italian guy from NYC. He told me the first time he killed a Vietnamese with a knife he threw up and the other recon marines laughed and gave him shit about it. He was at Khe Sanh and said they used to lay down and sleep in agent orange. Its what killed him. Cancer of the palate. He was in his 40's when he died. Anyway after Viet nam he hired on to fight in Rhodesia. He told me in the early '90's about the blacks setting their sights on infinity thinking that it made the AK shoot harder. 20 years before it became common knowledge. I didnt believe him. Who could be that stupid? African blacks thats who! They were shooting over the heads of the whites. Contributing to the 1000 to 1 kill ratio. I said "it must have been great hunting niggers in the jungle". He would just make an odd face. More like a grimace than a smile. When he flew back to NYC he was wearing a money belt full of gold Krugerrands. The FBI snatched him and some other mercs in the airport and took their gold. He was a hardcore biker. Once he and I were working on a house in an upscale neighborhood on the water in Florida. The Dr. that lived next door had fired his pool guy and was trying to mix the chemicals on his own. They started exploding in short sharp bursts that sounded like gunfire. I got a lungful of chlorine gas and stumbled and crawled to the front of the house. Jack was under our van waving me toward him saying "C'MON MAN! YOU CAN MAKE IT!!!". He was nervous around noises like that and was deathly afraid of snakes. Which I used to fuck with him every chance I got.